Opposing Forces

by Adrienne Giordano

  Drill bit firmly in place, he grabbed a measuring tape from the bag he’d brought with him and measured the doorframe. “Kinda late for a delivery, no?”

  She set her laptop on the table and booted it up. “I guess it could happen. Anyway, my boss said he’d take care of the paperwork while I was out this morning. Usually he CC’s me on stuff like that because I maintain the delivery schedule.”

  Jack snapped his tape measure closed. “Do you like this job?”

  “I do. It’s a step up for me. It’s a little weird right now because my immediate supervisor killed himself last week.”

  Jack paused then faced her. “Holy shit.”

  “Unbelievable tragedy. He lived downtown and jumped off his balcony. Left a wife and a young son.”

  “Man, that sucks. Poor kid.”

  “In the interim, the VP of distribution and I are splitting the work and we’re tripping over each other. We’ll figure it out until they hire someone.”

  Jack went back to the door. “Why don’t they give you the job?”

  “I’ve only been there a few months. I honestly don’t think I’m ready yet. But the company is growing. I’ll wait my turn.”

  “Never hurts to have a plan. I love a good plan.”

  When the computer finished chugging, she clicked into her email and scanned the new messages. Nothing from Ned.

  “Anything?” Jack asked.

  “Nope. I’m so baffled by this delivery.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Your boss said he’d take care of it.”

  The buzz of the drill being engaged forced her gaze from her emails. Somehow, she went from her computer to Jack’s ass. It was, after all, right there in her sight line. And what a great ass it was. His body was lean and strong, but not overly muscled. Catlike. She tilted her head one way, then the other. Yep. Great from all angles.

  “I’m a nut about the deliveries. When dealing with prescription drugs, we can’t have loose ends. Not if I don’t want the government showing up to check on us. Then it becomes my screw-up.” She sat forward. “Ooh, there’s one more place I could check.”

  Maybe Ned had logged the paperwork into the distribution system. She clicked on the icon and watched the hourglass swirl for a second. She’d already checked the system that morning, but maybe something had changed since she’d left.

  At the welcome screen, she typed her username and password. The hourglass swirled again—nothing unusual there. The system was notoriously slow.

  ACCESS DENIED.

  She must have hit a wrong key. She tried again. Nothing.

  “Hmmm...”

  Jack marked a spot on the doorframe and angled back. “You okay?”

  She puckered her lips and focused on her laptop. Maybe because she was trying to remotely access the system something went flukey? “I’m fine. The system is fighting back. Won’t take my password.”

  He stepped to where he could see the screen. “Did you have problems this morning?”

  “Not in the office, but the software is temperamental. It’s an in-house design and they’re still working out the bugs. It’ll wait until I get back to the office.”

  A soft bleep-bleep sounded—cell phone—and Jack dug it out of his pants pocket. For a moment, he stared at the screen, glanced over to her and, after the slightest hesitation, punched the button.

  “What’s up?” he said into the phone.

  With the way he’d hesitated, could it be a girlfriend?

  He didn’t seem the cheating player type. And if it was a girlfriend, where had she been when another woman was sleeping at her man’s house? That would be the bigger question.

  “Slow down,” he said. That fast, he’d refocused on the caller. “What happened?”

  His voice stayed steady and calm. Commanding. Interesting. And really, she shouldn’t be listening. Although, it was her house. He could go outside anytime he wanted.

  “Don’t. Where are you?”

  He shot one of his cuffs and checked his watch. “You need a meeting. Do you know where there’s a close one? I’ll go with you.”

  A meeting. Her stomach knotted. The Serenity Prayer taped to his mirror loomed in her not so distant memory and suddenly it all came together. How many conversations had she overheard her father having with his sponsors from AA? How many times had she been disappointed when those sponsors begged him to go to meetings and he refused?

  Enough to lose count.

  Damn. She did not want this man to be an alcoholic. Well, she didn’t want anyone to be an alcoholic. An alcoholic’s life was filled with constant drama. One day they were promising themselves—and their loved ones—they’d get sober and by lunchtime they were holed up with a bottle.

  A vicious cycle she didn’t need. Dealing with her family was enough, and she refused—refused—to be one of those women who repeated her mother’s mistakes. Her love for her mother, and even her father, remained constant, but she didn’t need to live their life to prove it. Life was hard enough without the added stress of an addict. Or two.

  Even if it sounded as if Jack was in recovery. Maybe a sponsor? Still, even sponsors had relapses and she hadn’t spent her life battling the emotional disappointments that came with relapses to allow herself to get involved with someone at risk.

  No, sir.

  “I’ve got you,” Jack said. “Text me the address and I’ll meet you there. Go straight there. We’ll be early, but we’ll grab a coffee or something.”

  He disconnected, dropped his phone on the table and spun it. Round and round it went until he finally watched it slow to a stop.

  Should she simply let the moment pass? Leave his business to him? He was in her house, and she did overhear his end of the conversation. She folded her hands in her lap. “That didn’t sound good.”

  He peeled his gaze from the phone and studied her. Measuring. “It was a...friend. Having some trouble.”

  “You seem to be surrounded by friends in trouble. You must go through a lot of capes.”

  At this, he cocked his head, his eyes cloudy and questioning.

  “Superman and his cape. That’s you.”

  Barely a smile out of him. Tough guy.

  “Superman, I’m not, but I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry. I will finish this bolt today.”

  “It’s fine. Really. You’ve done enough. If you can leave the drill, I’ll finish.” She grinned. “I’ll read the directions.”

  He shook his head. “I’d like to do it for you. I’ll be back in two hours. Can you wait?”

  “Sure. But that call sounded important. If your friend needs you, maybe you should stay with him. Or her.” She smacked her lips together. What a completely lame way of asking if it was a woman caller.

  “It’s a him. Definitely a him.”

  She shouldn’t care. “I’m guessing he’s an alcoholic?”

  Jack fiddled with his phone, flipping it side to side. “Recovering drug addict.”

  Moment of truth. She had to go for it. Sure she was being nosy, but he chose to have the conversation in her presence. Now she needed to know so she could convince her hormones that Jack Lynx would be off-limits. I so care. “And you’re his sponsor?”

  He blew air into his cheeks and let it pop free. “Not his sponsor. We’re friends. I’m...uh...an addict. Recovering. Prescription pain pills.”

  Chill, hormones. It’s over.

  “I see.”

  “Nine more days and it’ll be a year I’m clean.”

  A year. “How long were you an addict?”

  “I tore my ACL two years ago. Six months after surgery I realized I couldn’t get through the day without Vicodin, and it wasn’t about the pain in my knee. I checked myself into rehab. A year later, I’m trying to keep my buddy from relapsing. He’s w
orked too hard for that. If he relapses now, he’ll go insane.”

  Never before did Jillian realize she had a thing for men and capes, but she might just be turned on. Which, of course, would be a complete disaster given her feelings about men with addiction issues. However—and this was a big however—before her stood a man taking responsibility for his own actions by sticking to his recovery. The fact that he was helping others do the same was admirable.

  Still, she couldn’t allow herself to get emotionally involved. Addicts sometimes couldn’t help themselves and disappointed those who loved them. She’d learned that through experience and it was a simple fact she had no room for in her life.

  Perhaps she should share that with him. Let him know where she stood on the topic. Yes, she was attracted to him. Nothing could change that. But what was the point if they had no future together? She simply could not risk being disappointed if he relapsed. At that moment, it sounded harsh. Bitchy even. And she wasn’t sure how to make him understand in the brief minutes he had before leaving.

  Pouring out her emotional sludge wouldn’t do either one of them any good. She’d save it for later. “You should go. Tell your friend he should be proud of his ability to stay sober. You too, you know. Be proud that you’ve made it through. A lot of people don’t.”

  Like my father.

  “I am proud. My problem is I can’t believe I ever let myself get there in the first place.” He paused. “Anyway, I have to go. I should be back in a couple hours. Or, if you need to get back, I can do it after work.”

  She grabbed a scrap of paper from the holder on the counter. “Call my cell if you’ll be more than two hours. Otherwise, we can work on the bolt tonight. I’ll even make you dinner for helping me. How’s that?”

  I so care.

  He stuck out his bottom lip. “If you’re throwing in dinner, I’m doing it after work. You know how I feel about home-cooked meals.”

  Damn, why did he have to be so charming? “A home-cooked meal it is then. I’ll see you after work.” He ripped off one of those killer smiles and Jillian gave him a thumbs-up. “You’re getting good at this smiling thing.”

  “I guess it all depends on who I’m smiling at.”

  The man had a way about him, all blue-eyed and baby-faced, yet so intense. A deadly combo slowly chipping away at the number one reason she shouldn’t allow herself to get emotional about him.

  * * *

  By late morning, Jillian returned to the warehouse. Two deliveries were being dealt with in bays one and two. Due to the small size of the truck in bay two, it must have been a local delivery. She’d double check the schedule to make sure.

  She unlocked her office door, flipped the light on and fired up her laptop. A slam, then a curse sounded from the warehouse. Whoops. Someone dropped something they weren’t supposed to. Finally, the whirring laptop quieted and she clicked the icon for the reporting system.

  With great care—assuming she’d fouled up earlier and one more mistake would lock her out completely—she typed her password.

  More whirring as the hourglass on the computer spun.

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Grrrr. Obviously, the problem didn’t pertain to remote access. She scooped up her desk phone and called the IT helpline, affectionately known as the no-help desk.

  “Help desk. This is Dan.”

  “Hi. It’s Jillian Murdoch. I’m getting an access denied message on the distribution database. I was just in there this morning.”

  “Hang on.”

  Jillian hummed along to the hold music. Tina Turner should never be relegated to hold music. Just criminal.

  The music stopped and Dan came back on the line. “Jillian?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I’ll transfer you to my supervisor.”

  Now this is interesting. “Um, sure.”

  A second later, the IT director, a guy she didn’t know well but who had always been cordial, picked up. “Jillian, hi. We’re making adjustments to the system this morning. You’re temporarily locked out.”

  She picked up a pen she’d left lying on the desk and tapped it. “I need access to the system to monitor the schedule. How do I get my access back?”

  “The changes are coming from Ned. Maybe there’s been a mix-up. I’d start with him.”

  She hung up and grunted. The no-help desk lived on. In order to do her job, she’d have to waste her boss’s time by whining about an IT issue.

  She strode down the corridor to Ned’s office. Just inside, in a small outer office, sat his assistant. “Hi, Mary.”

  The older woman glanced up. Mary was one of those women who might only be fifty-five, but wore her hair teased and cemented into a beehive that made her look ancient. Plus, she carried an extra thirty pounds that added to the matronly mystique.

  Mary offered her usual welcoming smile. “Hi, Jillian.”

  “Is Ned in?”

  “He’s in a meeting.” She leaned forward and whispered. “It’s with Mr. Ingrams, but I think they’re finishing up.” She walked to Ned’s door and lightly knocked. After exchanging a few brief words, she waved Jillian in.

  Good. A chance for face time with Mr. Ingrams. Maybe she’d wait on her IT issue. Nothing like whining in front of the big cheese. She stepped into the office and nearly smacked into Mr. Ingrams’s chest. At five foot seven she wasn’t exactly short for a woman, but he stood a good seven inches taller. His dark blond hair had more than a bit of gray at the sideburns and temples. Between his height and the graying hair, the man’s presence spoke of strength and power.

  “Hello, Mr. Ingrams.” She stuck her hand out. “Jillian Murdoch.”

  He nodded. “I remember. Ned tells me you’re doing a great job during this horrible transition.”

  She glanced at Ned and smiled a silent thanks. “I’m always ready to do my part. Greg was a nice man. It’s a tragedy.”

  “That it is. But thank you for your efforts. I do appreciate it.” Ingrams turned back to Ned. “I’ll speak with you before I leave this afternoon.”

  He exited the office and Jillian let out a breath. It was never a bad thing when the big guy complimented one’s work.

  “What’s up, Jillian?”

  She brought her attention to Ned, still behind his desk. His office had that lived-in but neat vibe going. Stacks and stacks of papers lined the outside edges of his imitation cherry desk. Even the credenza behind his chair was smothered with file folders.

  “Sorry to bother you. I’m having an IT problem. They’re telling me I’m locked out of the distribution database and I should talk to you about getting my access back.”

  He nodded. “I meant to talk to you about that, but you were out dealing with the problem at your house. How did that go, by the way?”

  “It’s fine. All set.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it. About the database, the company is moving toward tightening up who has access to what.”

  A light thumping nagged her right eye. Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be happy about this.

  Ned held up a hand. “It’s a companywide initiative. Certain information will now be filtered through the department heads. It’ll be a need-to-know basis rather than everyone-knows-all. Does that make sense?”

  On some level, yes, it made sense. As it pertained to her performing her job? Not one bit. “I understand, but I don’t know how I can do my job if I don’t have access to the system. Vendors call me all day wanting to know the status of deliveries. If I can’t get into the system, how do I help them?”

  “I understand. I do. I’ll email you updated reports. If you get a call from a vendor and the information is not on the reports I’ve emailed, refer it to me. My assistant will handle it.”

  His assistant had access but not her? Putting her in a time-out would have b
een a more subtle hint. In her experience, the best way to handle these situations would be to lob it out there. Just ask the question. If she knew what the issue was, she could fix it. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Ned’s mouth dipped into a frown and he drew his eyebrows together. “Not at all. As I said, it’s companywide, not just our department.” He shifted right and pulled a folder from his desk. “I’ve scheduled a department meeting this afternoon about this, but since you’re here, I’ll tell you about it.”

  From the folder, he pulled a sheet of paper with copy on both sides. “Part of this new initiative is protecting our proprietary systems.”

  “Like the software?”

  “Exactly. We’re asking all employees to sign a confidentiality agreement.” He handed her the form. “Basically, it requires that you not share proprietary information with anyone outside the company.”

  “I see.” She took the paper from him, glanced at the front then flipped it over. Single-spaced, front and back. A lot of reading here. And if he thought she’d sign it on the spot, he didn’t know her at all. One good thing about not trusting people she was supposed to be able to trust was that she didn’t get screwed all that often. “This is quite a bit of material. How about I read it and get back to you if I have questions?”

  “Sure. We’re expecting the employees won’t have any issues with it.”

  Whoa, Nellie. Way to make this form sound harmless when he was really telling her she didn’t have a choice. “You’re saying if I don’t sign this, I’ll get fired.”

  As she watched his lips curve into a smile, the nagging thump behind her eye went to a full bang. That smile was all wrong. Too tight. Pinched. She set the paper in front of her on his desk and sat back.

  He did the same. Must have gotten the hint that his little document tripped every one of her danger sensors. “Jillian, this isn’t a big issue. It’s a simple document that protects the company. Just read it. If you have questions, let me know and we’ll discuss it. I think you’ll find it fairly standard.”