Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  “Sounds good.” I thought about my interview tomorrow afternoon, and hoped I’d be ordering champagne to celebrate my new job.

  I logged into my computer, then checked my emails. There were several from Sarah regarding phone messages she’d taken, a note from Human Resources on the importance of not flushing “anything” down the toilet besides the provided toilet paper, and a message from Sherri, the program director at H.H.P.

  I clicked on the email:

  Jill,

  Thank you again for your help serving dinner yesterday evening. I’m intrigued by your idea of doing more to help the homeless. Would love to talk to you more about this when you get the time. Maybe lunch next week? You can always reach me on my cell.

  Kind regards,

  Sherri

  I closed out the email, and sighed. Yes, I wanted to do more. But how? That was the question. I pulled out a yellow legal pad and clicked my pen open. I dropped my gaze, which landed on the Homeless Solutions article that lay by my keyboard. Suddenly, my eyes widened and I reached for the phone.

  I punched in Sherri’s number, which rang several times before she answered. I had butterflies dancing in my stomach. “Hi, Sherri. This is Jill Parnell.”

  “Hi, Jill. Fast return on the email.” Sherri’s voice was friendly, but she spoke so quickly, it was hard to keep up. “Does this mean we’re on for lunch next week?”

  I glanced at my calendar, feeling the excitement build. “Are you free for a drink tonight? At the Geoffries hotel?”

  “Absolutely.” Sherri’s tone was enthusiastic. “Eight o’clock? I know you work late . . .”

  “Let’s make it six.” I blurted, without feeling the slightest bit guilty. Yes, I worked hard. But my personal time counted too, and this project was important to me.

  * * *

  “I love it!” Sherri clinked her wine glass to mine. “It’s a great idea.”

  I ignored the plate of prawns the server set down, and went on. “It would be a more focused homeless outreach program. One person at a time.”

  “Yes.” Sherri cheered passionately. “That’s exactly how you make a difference.”

  Tingles ran up both of my arms. “We’d get donors to provide the basics to the selected individual. Food. Shelter. Clothing. In addition, we give them whatever they need to get back on their feet. Counseling. Job training. Drug treatment program. Whatever would help them.”

  She nodded, enthusiastically. “Change the world one beautiful person at a time.”

  I smiled, then reached for a prawn.

  Sherri sipped her wine. “It’s going to be a lot of work. I’m warning you now.”

  I leaned toward her. “Work is my specialty. When I set my mind to something, I’m driven until I achieve it.”

  Just like that interview tomorrow with McKenzie of McKenzie, Atkins, Haugan, & Hall. I was going to nail it, and land that job.

  Sherri pressed a hand to the cocktail table, then looked me in the eye. “I could tell exactly the kind of person you were the first time I met you at that fundraising dinner. You’re organized, driven, and have a good heart. You’ll follow this project through, no matter how many setbacks come your way.”

  My eyes watered from the compliment. “I thought of a name for the program. What do you think of Founding Friendships?”

  Her face brightened. “I think it’s the best possible name.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I’d finally found friendships again, and it had made my life fuller. Now it was time to share that joy with others.

  * * *

  I arrived home from the Geoffries, my mind swirling with ideas for the Founding Friendships program. Before her wedding, Kristen had mentioned that she enjoyed volunteer work. Maybe she’d be interested in counseling someone in the program. The possibilities seemed endless, but rewarding.

  I dropped onto my sofa, the conversation with my dad circling my brain. The anguish on his face broke my heart, but I knew from my mom’s voicemail she had no interest in talking to him. He’d pushed her past her limit, taken her for granted, and she was done. My throat tightened. How awful that it took her leaving him until he was willing to change.

  Dropping my handbag on the coffee table, I decided to deliver my dad’s message to her. It was eight o’clock here on the west coast, and I didn’t know which time zone she was in. But this felt too important to wait, even if it was late. The call rang once, then went to voicemail. Ugh.

  I waited for the tone. “It’s me, Mom. I saw Dad today. He wanted me to tell you that he got a job, attorney contract work, and it’s full-time. So, I’m passing on the word. Hope you’re doing okay and having fun on your vacation. Love you.”

  The message I left my mom made me think of Ryan. What a crazy lunch that had been, and I’d been so quiet in the car because I wasn’t good at opening up to a man.

  The right thing was to call Ryan, and clear things up. Before I could change my mind, I sent him a text: Just wanted to apologize for my dad calling you a turkey at lunch.

  Beep! Beep! Sliding my finger over the screen I read: I’ve been called worse.

  I typed: I’d love to hear about that. In detail.

  He replied: I can be over in fifteen minutes.

  A zing zipped through me, and I typed: Then what are you waiting for?

  My phone chirped: Not a thing. See you soon. :)

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Ryan arrived with a bottle of wine. “If I had known earlier I was coming over, I would’ve tried to find Mojito in a bottle for you.”

  I laughed. “If it doesn’t come in a bottle, then it should. Come in.”

  He followed me into the kitchen, where I uncorked the bottle, then poured us each a glass of the Merlot. We took our wine to the living room couch, where I curled up, and faced him.

  I sipped the rich liquid, and twirled a lock of hair around my finger, wondering about Ryan’s life before Corbett, Gray, & Shaw. “What made you leave your job in San Francisco?”

  This was actually something I’d wondered about since that first week we’d gone to Takeshi. I’d asked him the same question, and he’d avoided answering.

  His eyes clouded, and he took a sip of wine. “My mom had been sick.”

  The look of pain that crossed his face tugged at my heart. Instinctively, I took his hand. “What happened?”

  Two lines formed between his brows. “She needed a kidney transplant. My dad immediately offered, but after blood tests and crossmatching, it turned out that he wasn’t compatible. I was.”

  Chills traveled down my neck. He’d donated one of his kidneys to his mother? I marveled at the incredible sacrifice, and how he’d said it like there had been no choice involved. For him, there probably hadn’t been though. “How long was recovery?”

  “The first few days were the worst, but the morphine took away most of the pain.” The two lines stayed between his brows as he spoke. “I was released after three nights, and then recovered at my parents’ house for about a month.”

  I wondered why he’d have to quit his job in San Francisco. After all, it was a family emergency. “Your firm in San Francisco wouldn’t give you leave?”

  “They offered, but things were so stressful at the time I decided to move to be close to my parents. I even bought a townhome in San Diego.” Ryan stopped for a minute, and appeared deep in thought. “After my mom got better, she decided she wanted to move back to her roots here in Sacramento. Their house is on the market, and they’re waiting for a buyer. Meanwhile, Jim called. So I moved back before them.”

  I put a hand over my heart, unable to speak for what felt like forever. “I’m trying to grasp everything you went through for your mom.”

  Ryan squeezed my hand. “The least I could do.”

  I laced my fingers through his, realizing he was not at all how he appeared to be. He seemed so cool and confident like nothing could bother him. But he had such a soft side, that he would quit a successful career to move close to his family when t
hey needed him. Wow.

  My mom couldn’t even get my dad to stay in the country for any length of time. Although, in all fairness, it seemed like my dad was trying.

  He circled his thumb over the back of my hand. “Does it still bother you that I’m Managing Attorney?”

  I sipped my wine, then took a deep breath. If Ryan could open up to me, then I owed him the same respect. “I slaved at the firm for five years. Five years. Yes, it still bothers me.”

  He brought my hand to his lips, and placed a soft kiss over my pulse. “I’m sorry.”

  My belly fluttered, and that kiss made it hard to talk. “I know you’re qualified, and you run the department beautifully. But, they gave you that position because you’re Jim’s nephew.”

  “I’m more your boss in name only.” He gazed over at me. “The partners control your salary, and in case you haven’t noticed, you don’t need supervising around the office.”

  I looked away. Talking about this was a moot point. On Friday, Madison would likely make me an offer. If it was good, I’d give notice, and the problem would be solved. It did leave the question as to what would happen between us though. The thought terrified me.

  If Ryan wasn’t my boss, there would be no reason not to take our relationship to another level. I’d never put my feelings on the line before, not even with Aidan. The possibility of getting hurt scared me senseless. My heart raced, wondering if Ryan was feeling the same things I was.

  He kept my hand on his lap. “I wish we could put it behind us.”

  I sighed. “But it is awkward, you have to admit that.”

  His brows came together. “Awkward can be okay. Look at how we handled lunch.”

  I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  He chuckled. “Your dad seems very nice. I hope things work out between him and your mom.”

  “Me, too,” I said, shaking my head. “He had a successful job as an attorney and even made partner at his firm. Then one summer, he hiked Mt. Whitney, and he was hooked. One hiking trip after another. He stopped pulling his weight at the office, and the partners dissolved their company.”

  He grimaced. “Ouch.”

  “They have a mortgage on a house in the city, and he went into contract work because firms don’t like it when you take off for a month to hike in the Alps.” My heart ached, remembering my mom going to her day job, then picking up evening jobs too. She’d modeled exactly why I didn’t want to depend on a guy. “I don’t blame her for leaving. It’s just hard, you know?”

  “I understand.” He slipped his arm around me, then played with the hair I’d been twisting around and around. His eyes connected with mine. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “Me, too.” I gazed into his hazel eyes, then leaned forward, and pressed my mouth to his.

  I’d opened up to Ryan, which should’ve felt good. But now I felt vulnerable, like I had that much more to lose. After he went home, I turned off my lamp, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and closed my eyes. My nerves were on edge, worried about all the things I couldn’t control, and I couldn’t fall asleep.

  Beep! Beep!

  My eyes popped open. What the . . .?

  I groped for my cell on the nightstand, and found a message from Ryan: Still thinking of you. Sweet dreams, buttercup.

  Sweet dreams. I typed back, then snuggled into my pillow, and drifted off to asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday morning, I arrived early to the office, since I was taking the afternoon off for an appointment. AKA: interview that could change my life. By mid-morning, I was deep into a new product liability case when my phone gave two cheerful beeps.

  “Jill?” Ruth’s voice chirped out. “Stan would like to see you in the conference room.”

  “Be right there.” I tapped my highlighter against my palm, wondering what he wanted since he’d never responded to my email. My eyes narrowed. There’s no chance he’d know about my interview with Madison since I hadn’t told anyone.

  Rising to my feet, I tugged my blouse straight, and headed out of my office.

  “Jill?” Sarah’s voice came from behind me.

  Startled, I put a hand over my chest, and spun around toward Sarah’s cubicle. “Hey, I’m actually in a hurry.”

  “I won’t keep you,” she said, quickly. “Just making sure we’re still on for drinks tonight.”

  “Definitely.” Truthfully, I had the urge for drink right now. “Ginger’s coming, too.”

  “Did you hear her friend Kaitlin got engaged?” She spun in her chair, turning back to her computer. “Apparently, her fiancé owns the Geoffries hotel. And I, for one, think she should be getting us a discount on drinks there.”

  “You tell her that.” I laughed, then hurried down the hall. When I arrived at the conference room, the door was closed. Odd. I took a deep breath, turned the handle, and pulled the heavy mahogany door open. All three partners sat at the conference table. Ryan was seated next to them.

  Slivers of dread raced through me. Oh, no. This did not bode well.

  “Please shut the door, Jill.” Roger Gray gestured from his chair. “And have a seat.”

  “Certainly.” I did as instructed, sliding into the empty chair at the end of the table, and crossing my legs slowly. When I glanced at Ryan, I forced a smile.

  Roger and Jim were seated on one side, with Stan and Ryan on the other. They’d closed me in like a lawyer sandwich. I wondered if they’d coordinated on purpose as some kind of obscure tactic.

  The three partners were silent, and Ryan held my gaze.

  They had asked me to this meeting. Why did I have to speak first? I kept my expression blank as if we were going to discuss a new case. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, we did.” Stan Corbett put on a look of concern. “Jill, are you happy here?”

  “Sure.” Blatant lie. But I doubted it would fly if I called him a backstabbing traitor, now would it?

  “We received some disturbing news today.” Jim Shaw played with his silver pen as he spoke. “About you.”

  “I see.” My nerves were raw, but I kept my poker face in place.

  Roger slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Ed Haugan faxed this over to us today.”

  I recognized the font immediately. It was indeed my résumé. Thanks a lot, Ed. I took it he wasn’t as excited as Madison about bringing me aboard.

  “We were quite surprised by this.” Stan took a handkerchief from his front pocket, and dabbed at the beads of sweat on his forehead.

  Tearing my eyes from Stan, I glanced at the others. Roger sat forward in his seat, watching me intently. Jim’s mouth was working as he tapped that silver pen against his opposite palm. I almost smiled at the realization. The partners were nervous. Guess they’d finally figured out how much I contributed to this firm.

  Well, it was about freaking time. Yay, me!

  “I wish you would’ve come to me first.” Stan managed a betrayed look, and the partners appeared panicked at losing their asset.

  I gained confidence, knowing they wanted to keep their hard working golden goose (moi). Straightening in my chair, I tilted my head. “Stan, I sent you an email, asking if we could schedule an important meeting. But I never heard back from you.”

  Roger and Jim turned toward Stan, who had the decency to flush. “Er, I’ll have Wendy look into that.”

  Lame move, blaming his assistant, and I wanted to shake my head.

  “We realize it’s been an adjustment having Ryan take Charles’ place.” Jim tapped his pen on the table now. “But you’re not finding Ryan difficult to work for, are you?”

  I met Ryan’s gaze. Apparently he was getting the blame for my (hopefully) leaving. This was the perfect opportunity to make him pay for snatching my promotion from me. And a week ago, I might have taken that opportunity. But not now.

  I took a deep breath. “This has nothing to do with Ryan.”

  Jim looked noticeably relieved, but Ryan’s expression didn’t change. He wore a blank,
unreadable look. Impressive.

  Folding my hands in my lap, I decided to start negotiation. “It’s not that I’m unhappy here, it’s that I’m looking for advancement. More responsibility. A higher salary,” I drawled out the last part, making sure they knew that was their ticket.

  Roger smiled warmly at me. “We’re very happy with your work here, Jill. We’d like to keep you at Corbett, Gray, and Shaw.”

  Stan nodded. “There have been a lot of changes in the department this past month, yet your work is still top quality.”

  Top quality? Wasn’t he the guy who bought Frank Wilson’s complaints that I didn’t want to settle? As if.

  Stan cleared his throat. “We’re going to give you a fifteen percent raise.”

  Cha-ching! I kept my expression level as I calculated the number in my head. Knowing they’d never bump me back to the partner track with Jim’s relative in the way, I figured a higher salary was a decent consolation prize. My gaze traveled over each partner. “I need twenty-five percent.”

  Stan’s face puckered. “Your annual review is in six months. We’ll consider an additional raise then.”

  “Honestly, Stan?” I loved this feeling of power over my life, and seized it. “If you feel you can promote one of the junior attorneys, or bring someone in from the outside to handle my position better—”

  “Your request sounds reasonable.” Roger turned to Jim. “Don’t you think?”

  Jim nodded in assent.

  “We’re in agreement then.” Stan stood on his short legs and held a hand out to me. “And you’ll stay with us?”

  I gripped Stan’s sweaty palm firmly, taking pleasure in the physical evidence that I’d made him squirm. “My future career’s not set in stone, Stan. But I’m content for now.”

  Ryan stood first. “I guess we’d better get back to work then.”

  I shook the other partners’ hands before heading out the door.

  * * *

  On cloud nine, I dropped into my office chair, wearing an uncontrollable grin.

  Ryan sailed through the doorway a minute later, and shut the door behind him.