by Dara Girard
She drew back, struggling to tame the warmth that gathered between her legs, in response to his masculine scent and expert hands. “I’d better go.”
He lowered his voice to a tone that shouldn’t have been heard in the crush of people and the music of the live band, but its soft power made every other sound fade away and his velvet tone was all she heard when he spoke. “I think it’s time you stop running away from me.” He lowered his head and whispered, “You can’t deny what we feel for each other.”
“I can.”
He placed a finger on the base of her throat and left a sensuous trail down to the V of her dress, causing the heat at her center to build.
She grabbed his hand. “I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m different now. The old Mary was attracted to you, but I’m the new Mary now. I don’t want to repeat the same old pattern. You’d run over me. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself and I might let you. We’re wrong for each other.”
He pulled her back into his arms and hugged her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you.”
“Why?”
“Because if I kiss you I may not be able to control myself, and there are kids in the room.”
“Oh.”
He lowered his voice again, his breath warm against her ear. “Doesn’t this feel right to you?”
It felt perfect. “No.” Mary struggled to free herself. “Please let me go.”
He didn’t move and for a second she feared he wouldn’t let go, and she wouldn’t force him to. Then he reluctantly released her. “It won’t work.”
“What?”
“Fighting this attraction between us. Denying it won’t make it go away.”
His smug tone made her more defiant. “I’m not going to be anyone’s stable-and-steady companion. I’m not going to be anyone’s Martha. You’ll have to find that woman somewhere else.” Mary turned on her heel and left Edmund standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.
Moments later, Mary sat in her car, staring at the lights from the hall. She wanted to go back, but she knew she had to stay away. Derrick had been a perfect example of why her taste in men had to change. For a moment, she closed her eyes and hugged herself, remembering Edmund’s embrace, the soft feel of his shirt against her cheek, the scent of his skin and the solid heat of his form pressed against hers. Then she sighed and opened her eyes, trying to push the memory away but failing. She started her car and drove home. If he felt the way she did, perhaps they could work something out.
Perhaps he was right. She couldn’t fight it and there could be some victory in surrender. She didn’t want to marry him, after all. He could be a transitional affair—she’d use him to get him out of her system, and then she’d move on. Mary walked to her apartment with growing hope, but a note under her door soon sent her crashing back to earth.
Chapter 6
“You’re not renewing my lease?” Mary said to the leasing agent. His name was Nigel Harris, and he had the most pristine brown goatee Mary had ever seen, but he smelled of pickles and mayonnaise. His office was far too neat to be of any real purpose, and she wondered what he did all day.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“But I can pay.”
He clasped his hands together and rested them on the desk. “Unfortunately, now that your boyfriend no longer lives with you, you don’t qualify for this apartment. You’re not at the right income level. It’s a new policy. You can stay for another thirty days.”
Mary crossed her legs and glanced skyward. “I don’t believe this.”
The man’s voice changed to something indulgent. “However, we may be able to get around it.”
She looked at him, catching his gaze fall to her fishnet-clad legs. “How?”
“If you’d like to discuss it somewhere a little more private I could be very obliging.”
“Oh, really?”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
She stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To throw up.” She swung open the door. “The sight of you makes me sick.”
The next day Mary set off early in the morning to find who she could stay with until she found a new place. She didn’t want to stay with her brothers—one lived in a dump, and the other had an obnoxious seven-year-old she had the misfortune of calling her niece. She had an aunt who lived in Maryland also, but it would be a two-hour commute from her place to work.
As the weeks dwindled down into days, Mary began to panic. She called Rania, but she’d gone on vacation and couldn’t be reached. Three days before she had to move, she decided to call Sara although they hadn’t spoken in a while.
“I would love to help you,” Sara said. “But we loaned our extra room to Larry’s nephew.”
Mary’s throat tightened with tears. She had nowhere else to turn. In three days she would be out on the street. “Okay.”
“Mary, I feel awful.”
“I’ll be okay,” Mary said in a bright voice as tears slid down her cheeks. “Don’t worry about me.” She hung up the phone and wiped her tears. “Damn you, Curtis.” The stress of finding a new place had affected her work, as well. Twice she’d forgotten crucial appointments, she was behind on handing in an important document for review and Dianne had had to reprimand her when she’d lost a key to the office conference room.
Mary paced her apartment, seeing the dreams of her promotion fading away. She hadn’t had time to look over the weekly reports Gregory had sent her, and her quarterly report to James was due in two days. No doubt Edmund would be pleased with her lack of focus, but she had to get organized. She had to think. She had to find a place to live.
That evening Mary baked cookies and visited Mrs. McQueeth. The moment the older woman saw her she knew something was wrong. “Who died?”
“Nobody died.”
She took the cookies from Mary. “Well, something must have happened or you wouldn’t be wearing that expression and carrying enough cookies to feed the Army and the Marines.”
Mary sat down in the large recliner. When it started to shake, she leaped to her feet. “What’s going on?”
Mrs. McQueeth hurried over. “You must have touched something.” She pushed a few buttons and the shaking stopped.
“I don’t think that chair is safe,” Mary said staring at it with distrust.
“It’s okay. I had trouble at first, but they showed me how to use everything and they were very patient when I didn’t understand. You can sit down now and tell me what’s wrong.”
Mary decided to sit on a straight-back wooden chair instead. “I have to move out of my apartment within three days, and I don’t know where I’ll go.”
“You can stay with me.”
Mary smiled with regret. “You’re very sweet, but that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Why not?”
“Because as the project supervisor, I have to be objective about this place, and if I stayed here then I couldn’t be.”
“Perhaps you could say that you’re doing a special report. That you want to see how the residents are really living. And don’t forget, part of this new way of living is allowing a select family member or friend to live in the community near to their special ‘senior.’”
Mary bit into a cookie and chewed thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea. I could stay here for a couple of months while I’m looking for more permanent housing. That way I could stay on top of my work obligations, without having to worry about finding a place to live right now.”
“I’m sure that something will come up for you after a month or so. Just tell Mr. Davis of your plan, and that I need you close by.”
“You mean tell Mr. Trent.”
Mrs. McQueeth sent her a knowing look she’d used when Mary was a little girl. “No, I don’t.”
Mary squirmed in her seat. “I couldn’t go to see him.” I’m supposed to stay away from him.
“If yo
u put it the way I told you to, he won’t know anything. He’s a man with property. Ask him. You can’t lose.”
“How do you know that?”
Mrs. McQueeth’s mouth spread into a smug grin. “Because I know he’ll say yes.”
Edmund stared at Mary incredulously. “You want to stay in one of our residences?”
“Yes.”
His main office suited him: clean, efficient, practical, with expensive but understated furniture. Located only a half hour from the community, it allowed Edmund easy access to his biggest investment. Although Mary thought his office reflected him, she found it odd that she couldn’t find a single family picture, or a picture of any sort, in the room. Instead, he had a collection of snow globes that lined his desk and bookshelves.
“For a month?”
Maybe more. “Yes.”
“That’s not usually done, is it? I mean a program supervisor—”
“No,” she quickly agreed, wishing she’d been able to schedule time to speak with him sooner. She’d been forced to leave all of her furniture behind in the apartment because she hadn’t wanted to pay to put them in storage. But now all her personal belongings lay stacked in her car, likely roasting in the summer heat. Fortunately, Mrs. McQueeth had agreed to look after Cammie, but if she couldn’t convince Edmund of her plan she and Cammie would be calling her car “home.” She had a love-hate relationship with her car. It made strange noises when on the road but continued to move.
“And what exactly would you do?”
Mary licked her lips, trying to remember what she’d rehearsed with Mrs. McQueeth. “I’ve decided that since this project is about the total living experience that seniors will have, I’d like to live on-site for, let’s say a month, to see it for myself. I will monitor how things actually work. I won’t be there all the time, of course. I have other projects.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.”
“I would pay, I hope, a reduced fee for a unit and a nominal fee for any of the services I use.”
He folded his arms.
A cold knot tightened in her stomach and the silence in the room made her skin feel as though it was being stretched from her bones. She couldn’t tell anything by looking at his face. She didn’t know whether she’d convinced him that her idea was good or crazy. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s unnecessary. I’m eager to prove to anyone the benefits of this new community, but you don’t need to live there.”
Mary resisted the urge to fall on her knees and beg. No, she wouldn’t beg. She was above begging.
“Edmund—”
He raised his hand. “I have an idea. I have an apartment building not far from here where you can stay.”
“Okay.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“I am. Thank you. So when will a unit be ready?”
“When do you need one?”
Tonight. “When one is available?”
He lifted one of the snow globes and turned it upside down, then right-side up and watched the snowflakes fall on a city scene. “You’re not telling me something.”
A drop of sweat developed on her forehead, despite the cool air from the air conditioner. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you don’t lie very well.” He set the snow globe down and returned his gaze to her face. “But if you need a place immediately, I have a place you can move into right away.”
“I’ll take it.”
“But you don’t know where it is.”
“I don’t care—” she burst out, then quickly added “—as long as it’s close to the community.”
“It’s close.”
She paused. “And it’s not your place.”
Edmund began to smile. “It’s not my place.”
Mary relaxed. “That’s all I need to know.”
“Fine. My assistant will help you with all the paperwork.”
Mary wasn’t prepared for Edmund’s assistant—an older man named Dion with a knife tattooed on his neck, a Mediterranean tan and a physique better suited for a barroom than a business. But Dion was efficient and went through all the paperwork with her. She glanced at the pages without reading every word as she usually did. But when Dion showed her the apartment, she was certain there had been a mistake. The furnished two-bedroom unit was worth three times the agreed-upon rent and had a breathtaking view of the city. Mary moved in immediately.
That night she prepared a special meal for Cammie of collard, turnip and dandelion greens with small pieces of grapes, mango and melon. Cammie ate it as though she hadn’t eaten in days, and Mary ordered in Italian. After dinner, she stood out on the balcony and inhaled the cool scent of the coming rain that hung in the air.
“What do you think?”
Mary gripped the railing and spun to see Edmund standing on the balcony next to hers. She grabbed her robe, holding it tightly so she wouldn’t reveal the satin blue bra and panty underneath. Although his gaze made it seem as though he could. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” He winked. “Sleep tight, neighbor,” he said, then disappeared inside.
Chapter 7
Mary couldn’t sleep that night. She tried not to imagine Edmund eating, watching TV or possibly showering only a few feet away. She would be an adult about this. They could be neighbors and she’d be cordial when she saw him, which turned out to be more often than she’d hoped. He had an uncanny knack of leaving his apartment at exactly the same time she did. She’d see him in the hallway, in the elevator, in the lobby. But she was determined to remain cool, if friendly.
Mary still considered starting an affair but thought that an affair with a neighbor would provide unnecessary complications. Besides, she had to rebuild her damaged reputation at work, and she did so by going over, with undue earnest, the reports Gregory had given her. She wasn’t pleased with what she read and scheduled another meeting with Gregory. For this meeting she wore metallic, thigh-high stockings and a red-hot suit.
“This is not acceptable,” she told him.
Gregory looked at the reports in her hand. “What do you mean it’s not acceptable?”
“It’s lacking. I had expected more from you.”
“I followed the guidelines.”
“To the barest minimum.” Mary tapped the reports. “This doesn’t tell me anything. When you asked for funding I’m sure your proposal showed more passion.”
“I’m not writing a damn novel—this is a report.”
“And your reports have to demonstrate that this project is one of the best ideas our organization has ever funded. Instead, it will make people question us. You have left out key points.”
“Couldn’t you have told me all of the specifics you wanted before?”
“I’m sorry. My schedule was packed. Don’t worry, I won’t have you rewrite all of them.”
Gregory nearly flew out of his seat. “I have to rewrite them?”
“I want this project to be one of the best.”
“It is.”
“Then write about it.” She stood. “I know you can make this work.”
Gregory nodded. “Right.” He watched her go, then called Edmund. “I thought you were handling her.”
“What?”
“For weeks I’ve gotten by, and then today she comes into my office telling me I have to rewrite my reports. Not all,” he said bitterly, “just some.”
“Calm down.”
“Calm down? Do you know how much damn time I’m going to have to waste on these? And if she’s starting to look closely at them, what other things will she start looking closely at?”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“I don’t care what you do as long as you get her off my back.”
Somehow Mary wasn’t surprised to see Edmund when she entered the lobby of her apartment complex that evening. He stood by the elevator doors.
“Hello,” she said.
“What’s
wrong with the reports?”
“I explained everything to Gregory.”
“And now you’ll explain everything to me.”
“I don’t have time.”
“It will only take a few minutes.”
The elevator arrived and they stepped inside.
“He needs more data,” Mary said. “I want hard facts. Numbers. He’s doing the minimum and he knows it.”
“And you want him to rewrite some of the reports?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t he just write something more in his next report?”
“No.”
“Is this about your promotion?”
“No. Strangely, I like this project and I want to see it succeed. Plus I have a vested interest, if you remember.”
“I remember.”
“Any more questions?”
“Yes, have you ever made love in an elevator?”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said in a low, smooth voice like hot cream poured over bread pudding.
“I’ve never even thought about it.” Her nervous fingers toyed with the strap of her handbag. “Have you?”
Edmund loosened his tie. “No, but I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”
“Oh.”
He rested a hand behind her head and leaned toward her, his eyes like two shiny coins that could hypnotize. She didn’t know how he managed it, but those steely grayish-brown eyes no longer reminded her of the Arctic. She thought of steel melting under an intense heat, and she felt that heat all over, her nipples becoming taut and her skin hot to the touch. “Interested?” he said.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Edmund turned to the small crowd waiting to enter. “This car is full,” he said. The stunned crowd watched the doors close.
Mary stared at him in shock. “I’m not going to make love to you in an elevator.”
“Maybe not,” he said, his gaze unwavering.
“Definitely not,” she said, wanting to tear her gaze away but not finding the strength to.
