That touch had made her stomach leap and her heart pound. She’d pretended she hadn’t noticed, but the spot where his hand had touched her felt enflamed and hot. That heat had spread through her entire body, awakening feelings she had not felt since before Grace was born. Feelings she thought were gone for her forever.
Tears of exhaustion, confusion, and self-pity welled up in Jordan’s eyes, but she blinked them back and buried her head deeper into her pillow. There was no room in her life for outbursts of feelings, emotional or physical. There was certainly no room for self-pity. The only thing that mattered now was that little person with the riotous red curls who lay sleeping in the room across from hers. She focused on thoughts of her baby and finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Six
EVEN THOUGH AIDEN’S HEAD didn’t touch the pillow until three thirty in the morning, he was wide awake three hours later. He stretched and yawned, only to discover his mouth felt like the inside of a Dumpster. A shower was the first priority. He got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and cranked the faucet firmly toward “Hot.” The little room filled with steam, occluding his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Just as well, he thought. I don’t look so great this morning. He pulled back the curtain and stepped under the cascading water.
Twenty minutes later, showered and shaved and dressed in jeans, a blue striped shirt, and a leather jacket, Aiden went downstairs to the breakfast buffet. Despite the weird drama of the night before, he was hungry. He took a plate, helped himself to blueberry pancakes and coffee, and revisited his little table from the night before, now empty and made up fresh for the morning with a spotless white tablecloth and a bud vase with a daisy in it. Flatware and a snowy napkin were already laid on the table. Aiden sat down to eat and ruminate on the events of the previous night.
His meeting with Jordan was at nine, and he wondered how she would act. He wondered whether it was prudent to bring up what had happened last night. Personally, he thought she should report the whole incident to the police and take Fenton to the mat. The man was ruthless to a dangerous degree—to the degree that he would actually play with peoples’ physical well-being to get what he wanted.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Aiden pulled it out and saw his father’s number. He stared at the screen for a few seconds and then made a command decision, touching “Ignore.” Aiden had not spoken to his father since the previous afternoon, before these unbelievable incidents had taken place. Now, until he managed to unravel this mess, he decided not to. There would be plenty of time to hash it out with the old Yankee. Whether he closed the deal or failed didn’t seem so important to Aiden anymore. It was suddenly perfectly clear: what was important was Jordan Fitzgerald. From the start, she had affected him in a way he’d not been prepared for. He found himself thinking about her constantly—and not in a business sense. Now, Aiden wanted to know what this enigmatic young woman thought about him, if she thought about him at all. There was only one way to find out and that was to ask her. He gulped down the last of his coffee, pulled on his jacket, and walked outside.
The morning was cool and bright. Birds were twittering, and again there was an underlying scent of lilacs in the air. Aiden stood on the porch and breathed in the fresh air. The world of Clark’s Corner was just beginning to wake. An empty school bus drove by, followed by a couple of pickup trucks. Otherwise, everything was quiet. The offices of ChatDotCom were only about three miles away. Aiden glanced at his watch; he had plenty of time and decided to walk there. As he walked, he looked around.
Clark’s Corner was centered around the pretty little green, bordered on one side by the Inn and other side by the main route that ran through town. A quaint gazebo, reminiscent of the turn of the century, adorned the green at one end, its six-sided railing decorated with green planter boxes full of pansies. On the other side of the main street was a brick-walled cemetery. Aiden could see the old crypt, built into a rise in the ground and covered over with grass, as though it was part of the natural turf. He read the date, 1726, above the bolted steel door. In those days, when the ground was too frozen to dig a proper grave during the winter months, people were laid to rest in the crypt until warm weather in the spring allowed for burial. It was a peaceful, cozy cemetery with lilacs, old hydrangeas, and huge maples growing in between the old slate stones and the newer granite ones.
Most of the houses along the main street were the old Victorian style with their pretty gingerbread trim and their turret rooms. Many of these had been turned into businesses. There was a dress shop and a dentist’s office in one, a real estate office in another, and then there was the one that housed MacTavish’s Pub. As Aiden reached the end of the main street, the houses changed, reflecting the older Federal and Georgian designs. These had undoubtedly been built by the first wealthy farmers and merchants in the area. The Victorians would have followed later, when the factories were built along the river, on the other side of the railroad tracks.
Aiden walked along until the sidewalk ended. Then he crossed the main street and proceeded east toward the railroad tracks. The houses here were smaller, more tightly packed. They had been built by the first laborers who had saved enough money to build their own homes. In amongst these houses were nestled Rick’s Garage, a plumbing and heating business, and a hardware store. The farther he walked, the more Aiden saw of the town’s history, laid out before him like an open book. How many generations had struggled here in this sleepy place, building homes, businesses, building lives? How many people had been born here, labored here, and finally rested in the walled cemetery?
Aiden crossed the still active railroad tracks and proceeded along the road until he could see the offices of ChatDotCom. Despite its sleepy appearance, the town had a vibrancy that couldn’t be denied. There was the school, a hospital, and Gene Palmer had stepped in, bought the deserted factory building and started his communications company. You couldn’t get more current than Internet involvement and employment for four hundred people.
The renovated factory loomed ahead of him. Instead of walking across the new cement bridge to the parking lot, Aiden took the old footbridge across the canal, another relic of a time when all the employees walked to work. He pulled open the big front doors. It seemed light years since he had first entered this building, but incredibly, it had only been the day before. And in that one day, his outlook on a lot of things had changed dramatically.
Ashley was sitting at the curved, marble-topped desk. When she saw Aiden, she stood up quickly, a big smile on her face.
“Aiden!” she said spontaneously, then her hand flew to her lips. “Oh,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I meant, good morning, Mr. Stewart.”
Aiden smiled back at her. “No problem. My name is Aiden. Is Jordan in yet?”
His use of Jordan’s first name was not lost on Ashley. “Yes,” she said, her smile returning. “She just came in a minute ago. Shall I tell her you’re here?”
“Please.”
Ashley opened the office door and slipped in. A moment later, she returned, much as she had done on that first day when he thought he was meeting with a cranky old man. “You can go in now.”
Aiden walked into the office and closed the door behind him. Jordan was standing behind her desk, studying a document she held in her hand. Her appearance did not betray the events of the night before. She was once again the consummate professional, dressed in a form-fitting beige suit with a high-necked, white shirt. Her hair, so uninhibited just a few hours ago, had been swept into submission, wound into a tight bun at the back of her neck. She wore gold hoops in her ears.
“Hi,” said Aiden.
“Good morning,” she replied, not looking up.
Aiden’s brow furrowed. He approached the desk. “How are you feeling?”
Jordan looked up. “I’m fine,” she said. “Maybe a little tired, but otherwise fine. Thank you for asking. Now, shall we get started and discuss this Trade Winds offer?”
If she h
ad slapped him across his face, Aiden could not have been more shocked. What the hell was wrong with this woman? “What do you mean?” he asked, speaking carefully.
“I mean, let’s talk about what Trade Winds has to offer ChatDotCom.” Jordan held on to the edge of her desk, as if to anchor herself. “I have to make a decision.”
Aiden threw caution to the wind. Let Fenton take over the company. Let him find holes in her contract and fire her. Let him break up ChatDotCom. If that was her decision, he wasn’t going to fight it, no matter what his father thought. Trade Winds could survive without Chat, no matter what scheme Fenton pulled, but Aiden was not going to walk away without finding out once and for all what made M. Jordan Fitzgerald tick.
He crossed the room and leaned over her desk, looking straight at her. “Before I go one step further, we’re going to hash out what happened last night. I got involved. I got involved because I felt myself caring what happened to you and your company, being played by a scumbag like Chris Fenton, and I stuck my neck out to make sure you didn’t get a DUI like Fenton had planned. He put something in your drink, Jordan. He tried to set you up.”
Jordan raised her head slightly and fixed her large blue eyes on him. “Well, just to satisfy your curiosity, I called Fenton this morning because we were supposed to meet today. I told him I was busy all day and would contact him later. He wasn’t too pleased, but I held him off. And I do really appreciate your efforts on my behalf,” she said, her grip on the desk tightening noticeably, “but I have to keep this on a professional level. I—”
Aiden brought his fist down on the desk so hard Jordan jumped back. “Stop it! Stop this bullshit now! I’m not curious. I’m concerned. And I’m not talking about anything professional until we get the personal side sorted out. Now just listen to me. Let me speak.” He stopped to catch his breath.
Jordan blinked and said softly, “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
Aiden took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the outburst, but you got to me, Jordan. You got to me, and I’m not afraid to say it. The truth is, I think you’re very brave. I see what you’re going through. I see how young you are. You haven’t had a lot of time to meet people like Fenton, but unfortunately, they’re out there. Sometimes, a person is just born bad, and that’s Fenton. I really didn’t think he’d go as far as he did, but now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, that’s my opinion.”
He turned away and began to pace back and forth in front of the desk. “I think you should file a police report. I think he should be confronted on this. You could have been killed or you could have killed someone else. My suggestion to you is that you file that police report today, and then you consider Trade Winds’ offer of a merger with Chat. I promise you, I will work with you on the merger details to make it as advantageous to both of us as possible. I won’t lie to you; Trade Winds wants its foot in this door pretty damn bad. We’ll agree to a lot of things just for that position. I think we can give Gene Palmer what he wants and make you look good too. Work with me here. I’m your friend, Jordan. I’m on your side.” Aiden was talked out. He slumped into one of the wing chairs and looked at her, waiting.
Jordan came out from behind her desk, her hands visibly trembling. She walked over to the other wing chair and sat down, clasping her hands in her lap, but Aiden noticed they were shaking.
“Aiden,” she said, “you helped me. When you came running down the street, I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry, but I was so—so impaired, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Then, when I woke up later in your room, I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t remember how I got there. I thought something might have, you know, something might have happened between us.” She looked down into her lap and twisted her fingers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I was so confused. I’m sorry you saw me like that. It doesn’t mean I can’t control myself. It doesn’t mean I’m not a serious businesswoman. Mr. Palmer has put a lot of faith in me, and I don’t want to let him down.” Her voice gained strength. “I will continue to do the best for ChatDotCom that I can. As for Christopher Fenton, I don’t want to file a police report. And before you make a comment, I’ll tell you why. I couldn’t pin anything on him. Whatever he used on me has left my system by now anyway, so I wouldn’t be able to show that he’d drugged me. On top of that, if I chose to pursue it, the case would become the focus of more energy than I want to spend on Fenton. It would take away from what I have to do, from my duty to Mr. Palmer and the employees of Chat. I prefer to tell him in no uncertain terms that I will not accept his offer. I’m not even going to bring up the incident. I’m going to let him think it just didn’t work.”
Before Aiden could respond, Jordan’s office door opened. Aiden turned to see a pleasant looking, gray-haired woman dressed in jeans and a light spring parka standing in the doorway holding a small child with curly red hair. He politely stood as Jordan leaped up from her chair. “Mom!” She was clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Mm-mm-mama,” shrilled the little girl, holding out her arms. Aiden watched as Jordan took the child and cuddled her on her hip. “Baby, baby, baby,” she crooned.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jordan,” said the older woman. “We were just in the neighborhood and decided to stop in. Ashley wasn’t at her desk. It’s lunch time. Can you go to lunch with us?”
“Oh, Mom, no, not today. I’m sorry.” Jordan shot a few glances at Aiden as she held the girl. She looked uncomfortable, nervous. Aiden remained quiet, hoping to put her at ease, while questions exploded in his head. She turned to Aiden, gesturing to her mother. “Aiden Stewart, this is my mother, Sharon Fitzgerald. Mom, this is Aiden Stewart. He represents a company looking to merge with Chat.”
Aiden extended his hand, and Sharon Fitzgerald took it in a firm handshake. “How nice to meet you, Mr. Stewart.”
“Same here,” Aiden said with a smile. Then he turned to Jordan, still smiling. “And who is this?”
Jordan kissed the baby on the cheek. “This is my daughter, Grace,” she said firmly.
“Well,” said Sharon, reaching out to take Grace back from Jordan, “we will be on our way, then, and let you two get back to your negotiations. Nice to meet you, Mr. Stewart.”
“And you as well,” Aiden replied.
“Bye, Mom. See you tonight.”
The baby kicked her little feet and made fussing noises as her grandmother carried her out of the room.
Jordan closed the door behind them. She let out a quick sigh as she turned back to Aiden. “Let’s get going, then. I’m all ears. What’ve you got?”
“So Grace is not your mother. You didn’t tell me you had a baby.”
“Why would I?” Jordan’s demeanor had become nonchalant.
“I didn’t know you were married.”
“I’m not.”
Aiden blinked. “Oh. What happened? Divorced?”
“No. I never had a husband. I don’t have a boyfriend. I have Grace.” Jordan’s lips were tight as she spoke. “You’re getting awfully close to going somewhere I don’t think it’s necessary to go. Why don’t we just stick to business?”
Aiden gave in, putting up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I apologize. She’s a cute little girl, though.”
Jordan relaxed and smiled at him. “Yes. She’s the cutest.”
“I was just trying to get to know you better,” said Aiden, defending himself.
Jordan flashed him an enigmatic smile. “You don’t need to know me any better than you do.”
They retired back to the wing chairs and huddled over the low table, scrutinizing both proposals point by point.
As they worked, Aiden could see Jordan become more relaxed. He could certainly understand her desire to keep personal lives out of business associations. Aiden remained professional throughout their meeting. He didn’t criticize her ideas, but took them all seriously and worked to fit them to the proposal in the most beneficial way. She listened to hi
m as though trying to soak up all the business knowledge she could. But more was happening here; Aiden could feel it. More than once, he caught her watching him as he bent over the low table, eyeing the definition of the muscles in his exposed forearms. As he bent forward, her gaze lingered on his chest. Sometimes, as they worked, he would point out a specific paragraph or line, and she would lean in close to follow his pen on the paper. The warmth coming from their bodies—their awareness of each other—was obvious, and he sensed her heartbeat was quickening just as his was.
At last, Aiden straightened up and looked at his watch, breaking the sexual tension that had invaded the room. It was two o’clock. “I think this is coming together pretty well,” he said. “I want to call my father and run some of these details by him. I think it’s together enough for you to take it to Gene Palmer. What do you think?”
Jordan stood up and walked to the big windows to stretch her legs. She turned around, and Aiden looked up at her with a sudden smile. She couldn’t suppress the need to smile back. They’d accomplished a lot in this meeting, most importantly, Aiden thought, establishing Jordan’s willingness to trust Aiden.
“I’d like to take it to Mr. Palmer this afternoon,” she said, “before he gets too tired and has to stress himself to concentrate. He’s in the middle of a chemotherapy session again and it just exhausts him.”
Aiden shook his head and said, “I’m very sorry that he is sick. I’ve never met him, but from what my father says, he’s been a real force in the industry. And my father doesn’t hand out compliments easily. It’s too bad.”
“I appreciate that, Aiden,” she said, softening. “Mr. Palmer means the world to me. He gave me a chance when I didn’t think I had one.”
“I’d say you were capable of getting a good position wherever you wanted,” said Aiden. “Where did you go to school?”
Corporate Affair Page 7
