by Diana Palmer
“Now you see why I was concerned when you went out by yourself in the woods last night,” he said. It was a lie. He was concerned because he couldn’t imagine trying to make it through life without her. But it was never a good idea to tell women how important they were.
“But I wouldn’t be a target,” she started to say.
“You work for me,” he pointed out. “Once, a disgruntled ex-employee actually kidnapped Marie and tried to hold her for ransom.”
“Poor Marie!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”
“The bodyguards happened,” he said with a smile. “They tracked her down. The police had to take the perpetrators to the emergency room on their way to jail.”
“I see. The bodyguards got them.” She chuckled.
“Actually, I got them,” he corrected, and his dark eyes flashed like silver fires. “Nobody hurts my employees. Especially Marie.”
“That’s nice,” she said. “What you did.”
He shrugged. “Alistair got me off with a warning on the plea of extenuating circumstances. Privately, the judge said he’d have done the same thing. Marie was pretty roughed up.”
“I’d wondered, you know,” she said, thinking aloud. “She’s very careful about making sure doors and windows are locked at night, in every room.”
“That’s why. It was a few years ago, but we’re cautious just the same.” He rested his locked fingers on his chest as he leaned back, filling the leather chair that had left much space around Emma when she sat in it. “I don’t advertise that I live here, and most of the neighbors think I’m just an Atlanta businessman with a lake house. I take great pains to make sure the press doesn’t get wind of it. I’ve been hounded most of my adult life by reporters wanting to make a name for themselves by gaining a look into my private life.”
He was one of the richest men in the world, she recalled, but he kept such a low profile that nobody recognized him when he went out in public.
“At the casino, nobody knew you,” she recalled.
“See?” he teased. “I don’t allow photos of me to be printed. Many have tried,” he added facetiously. “But every attempt has failed. I don’t even have a photo in our company website.”
“That I did notice,” she replied. She hadn’t considered reporters. What if one of them found out Connor was blind and went looking for the reason? What if he traced the accident to the very woman who was working for the millionaire on the lake—Emma? Her heart fluttered like a captive bird as the possibilities smothered her.
“Emma?” He interrupted her thoughts.
“What? Oh. Sorry, boss,” she faltered. “I hadn’t thought about reporters.”
“I think about them, all the time,” he muttered. “You can’t imagine the work it’s cost my public relations firm to keep them from finding out that I was blinded.”
“It... Would it matter?” she asked, curious.
“Stock prices would drop,” he said with a hollow laugh. “Despite our politically correct society, business is war. My board of directors would have a field day trying to oust me if they could seize on a weakness that might impact sales.”
“I didn’t realize it would matter so much,” she said, and guilt racked her.
“Think of the board of directors as a school of sharks and me as blood in the water if they had any inkling that my health was impaired,” he mused. He pursed his chiseled lips. “My, my, what an image.”
“Not a very nice one,” she countered.
“Well, that’s business, honey,” he replied. He stretched and groaned. “God, I feel my age sometimes. More lately than ever before. It’s not easy, coping with a world that’s permanently dark.”
“I guess not,” she said sadly. “I’m so sorry!”
He waved her concern away. “It gets easier. You’ve helped more than you know,” he added unexpectedly. “Teaching the staff how to tell me what’s on the plate, how to let me take an arm rather than be grasped, those little things make life easier for me.”
“I’m glad I’ve helped,” she said.
“More than you know,” he repeated. His face clenched. Every so often he thought about life without her, and he panicked. He didn’t want her to know, but she’d become his greatest necessity, and not just because she nurtured him.
She was becoming far too important to him. He didn’t want to risk his heart again, especially not on a naive young woman who had little experience with men. He could take her or leave her, but she’d never get over being intimate with him. She’d expect a commitment. He couldn’t give her that. So, just as well to put some distance between them while he tried to forget how she felt in his arms.
His head lifted decisively. “I’m going to go to Germany for trade talks at the end of the week,” he said. “I’ll probably be gone for at least two weeks, maybe a little longer. I’ll make sure Tonia knows that you might need help while I’m away. You have her number on the speed dial on the phone, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
His face hardened. “Emma...!”
“Yes, boss,” she said, forcing a light tone into her voice. Two weeks. Two weeks without his voice, the sight of him. She thought she’d go mad.
“I guess I can live with that,” he murmured with a short laugh. “Okay, let’s get things done. I don’t want to leave behind a lot of loose ends while I’m away.”
* * *
Time dragged. Hours seemed like days once he left. She called Tonia about a particularly difficult conversation she’d had with a low level executive at the new facility in Arizona.
“He said that I’m not qualified for the job Mr. Sinclair has me doing.” Emma groaned. “And he’s right. I don’t even understand half the terms he uses.”
“Emma,” the older woman said gently, “your greatest asset is your ability to calm the boss down and keep him focused on one task at a time. Didn’t you know? In the days before his mishap—” she used the term just in case she was overheard “—he could never focus on just one problem. He’d be trying to solve a fuel crisis at one facility at the same time he was coping with a staff issue at another. He got the job done, yes, but it’s so much more efficient to tackle the big problems and delegate the small ones. You’ve helped him do that.”
“Oh.” Emma smiled to herself. “Well, at least I’m sort of useful,” she joked.
“You’re very useful.” There was a faint hesitation. “He talks about you all the time. You sit up with him when he has migraines, I understand,” she added with a lilt in her voice.
“Well, yes. He wouldn’t let anybody else near him...”
“He thinks of it as a weakness, those headaches. He’s remarkably healthy otherwise. In fact, he was in the gym four days out of seven. Working out helped with the stress. He sure has a lot of it. He’s the man on top. If anything goes wrong, he’s the ultimate mediator.”
“I can’t imagine being responsible for so many people,” she replied.
“Neither can I.” Tonia laughed. “He does it very well.”
“He said that his public relations firm had been fielding reporters,” she fished.
“Oh, yes, there’s always that,” Tonia said with resignation. “It wouldn’t do for them to know too much, and they’re always poking around. It amazes me how many people think it’s their business to know every facet of a public figure’s life. Privacy used to be a sacred trust. Now, it’s a joke.”
“He’s safe here,” Emma said.
“It’s about the only place that he is safe,” Tonia said flatly. “Every time he ventures out in public, there are rumors and gossip and the tabloids go wild.” She sighed. “You watch, there’ll be photos of him with an endless parade of women if he’s at a party at all.”
Emma grimaced. “Ariel was here for several days recently,” she said in a subdued ton
e.
“And left very suddenly, I believe?” came the amused reply. “She’s like all the others, Emma. Something pretty to keep his ghosts at bay. That’s all she ever was.”
“He’s very attractive.”
Tonia laughed. “Yes, he is. Years ago, before I married, I had a real crush on him,” she confessed. “But I wasn’t his type. He liked beautiful, flashy brunettes. I’m a redhead,” the other woman confided.
Emma laughed with delight. “I’m blonde.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, it’s not like that,” Emma fumbled. “I just work for him. He’s a great boss. He only yells three times a day, and he’s only threatened to push me into the lake once.”
Tonia roared. “Ask poor Edward how often he was threatened with that when he started making creamy chicken dishes three times a week,” she replied. “Boss hates chicken,” she added.
“Is that why Edward’s still in France?” Emma asked innocently.
There was a long pause. “You know, Edward is relatively young, and he’s single. He’s also something of a ladies’ man.”
Emma was puzzled. “So?”
Tonia laughed gently. “He was having a vacation, but before he was due back here, he remarked to the boss that he saw a photo of you that Barnes had taken and included when he messaged him about the new personal assistant. He said you were very delicious and he wanted to take you out dancing. The very next day, he was flown to the boss’s villa in Nice, making nice creamed chicken dishes for the staff, before you ever got on the plane to Nassau. Edward was supposed to be doing the cooking there. Marie was enlisted instead.”
Emma felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She could hardly believe it. She’d wondered why she’d never met Edward.
“He’s protective of you,” Tonia continued. “I don’t remember him ever wanting to take care of a woman before. Not like this.”
“He’s afraid that I’ll quit and he’ll have to hire somebody else to type up his notes and answer mail and sit with him when he has headaches,” Emma argued, tongue in cheek.
“I don’t think so,” Tonia said softly. “Now, back to business. Who gave you the hard time in Arizona?”
Emma named the manager.
“Ah, yes. That guy.” Tonia put worlds of meaning into the two words. “I’ll have a quick word with him and you won’t have trouble again. Boss doesn’t like him much, anyway,” she added. “If he knows that he mouthed off to you, he may be unemployed soon.”
“Don’t tell the boss,” Emma pleaded. “Honestly, it wasn’t so bad. I wouldn’t want anyone to lose their job because of me, because of something I said!”
There was a soft sigh. “Emma, you’re one of a kind. All right. I won’t tell the boss.” There was another hesitation. “But Mr. Attitude is about to get an adjustment to his.”
“Thanks, Tonia,” Emma said.
There was another affectionate laugh and the line went dead.
* * *
“I didn’t know Edward was supposed to be in Nassau cooking for us,” Emma mentioned at supper, which she and Marie and Barnes had just finished. Barnes had gone off to watch television in his room.
“Yes,” Marie said, sighing. “But there was some sort of emergency at the house in Nice that Edward had to go take care of. I don’t miss the creamed chicken,” she mused, “but I do miss him. He was so much fun.” She frowned. “I don’t understand why the boss won’t let him come back,” she added, all at sea. She shrugged. “Ah, well. I did enjoy our trip to Nassau, even at Edward’s expense.” She laughed. “How about dessert? I made us a bread pudding!”
So Marie didn’t know why Edward was kept away. But Tonia did. Or was it just that Tonia had made the connection? It flattered Emma to think that Connor didn’t want her going out with other men.
But she might be making assumptions. Probably it was just that Connor didn’t want her distracted while she was working. Her heart plummeted. She shouldn’t get her hopes up about any romance with the boss. He liked kissing her. But that was a world away from love. He’d probably kissed hundreds of women. He was a sensual, attractive man, and he would have attracted women in droves even if he hadn’t been a high-powered millionaire.
He liked Emma. But he couldn’t see her. If he’d known how plain she was, if he’d had his vision, he’d have walked past her on the street without a second glance. She was only useful to him because he was blind. And it never left her that the blindness was her fault. She thought of her time with him as penance. It would never make up for the anguish she’d caused him, but it eased her conscience.
* * *
The days dragged. Connor phoned once or twice to check on business contacts that might have called the house instead of the main office in Chicago, where Tonia was. But his conversation had been strictly business. In fact, he’d been more irritable than ever. It showed that he didn’t want to talk to Emma at all, that he’d probably have preferred not to have to speak to her. He made it so obvious that it hurt.
She wondered what she’d done to anger him. She prayed that it wasn’t his memory coming back. She didn’t want him to know that she was responsible for his condition. She wanted to leave long before he knew the truth. But it was so sweet being in his house, being near him, just sitting in the office staring at him when he didn’t know. She’d never known what love was until she came to work here. She’d never get over him, never want anyone else, not if it meant spending her entire life alone, growing old without a husband or children. There wasn’t a man on earth who would ever be able to replace Connor in her eyes.
The days dragged on. Marie went shopping for groceries. Barnes had the car cleaned. The maid staff came to do the heavy work, like cleaning carpets and washing curtains and beating area rugs. Connor didn’t like that sort of interruption when he was in residence, Marie had told her. It interfered with business.
Once, Marie and Emma had gone to the movies to see a science fiction film that had been panned by the critics. It was one of the best Emma had ever seen.
Marie laughed. “It’s just personal opinions, Emma,” she remarked sagely. “Everybody has one. But it’s a poor consumer who lets him or herself be swayed by someone else’s opinion. I make up my own mind about movies, and books, and most everything else.”
“So do I,” Emma replied, smiling.
“But I do miss the older movies,” Marie confessed. “The ones you could take your kids to see, and not just animated movies. The world has changed.”
“Yes, it has. But I like animated movies!” Emma laughed.
“I have to confess, so do I!” Marie told her.
* * *
It had been two weeks since he’d left. Emma sat on the log by the lakeshore. It was late afternoon and warm, for mid-November. She had on a long-sleeved sweater with a V-neck and jeans, her pale blond hair long around her shoulders. She was brooding because Connor hadn’t called in days.
Worse, there had been a tabloid photo of him—a distant one, because the photographer was apparently keeping his distance—with a gorgeous brunette under one big arm at some sort of benefit in Berlin. The woman had been so obviously fawning on him that the caption read Brunette Debutante Finds Aircraft Magnate Fascinating.
Emma found him fascinating. She could understand the other woman’s interest. The story hadn’t mentioned that he was blind, so apparently he put on a very good act in public. Marie, who also saw the story, didn’t comment at all. Odd, that the boss allowed himself to be photographed like that. She’d known him to do it deliberately once or twice, to fend off aggressive women who were pursuing him too much. So perhaps there was a woman he was pushing away by allowing the story to run. Marie knew, as Emma didn’t, that Connor had the power to stop a story he didn’t like, especially in that particular tabloid. He was friends with the publisher.
Emma d
rew in the dirt with a stick, making curlicues and unconsciously tracing Connor’s initials. GC. GC. She frowned. She wondered if he had a middle name. She’d never asked.
“Emma!”
Her head lifted. Marie was standing on the porch, waving.
Probably business again, Emma thought morosely. She got up with a sigh, dropped the stick and brushed off the back of her jeans as she headed toward the house.
“Am I needed on the phone?” Emma asked as she reached the porch.
Marie’s eyes were bright. She grinned. “Boss is home. He wants you in the office.”
The joy Emma felt was almost tangible. She glowed with it. “He’s home? But I didn’t hear the car!”
“He came in through the back drive,” Marie said. “Hurry. He’s in a temper,” she added with a sigh.
“What else is new?” Emma teased.
She didn’t run to the office. But she did walk fast.
The door was closed. She took a breath and opened it. “Boss...?” she began.
He was sitting on the sofa. His jacket and tie were off, his shirt half-unbuttoned over that broad chest. He looked worn and angry and irritated.
His head lifted and turned toward the sound of her voice. “Emma? Is that you? Come in and close the door,” he said tensely.
Her heart jumped. He sounded furious. Was he going to fire her? Had he found out something, remembered something...?
“Yes, boss.” She closed the door.
“Lock it,” he said curtly.
She didn’t understand but she flicked the lock.
“Come here.”
She moved around the easy chair to the sofa. She started to speak when she felt his hands reaching for her, finding her legs, her hips, her waist. He tugged, so that she fell into his arms. He crushed her against him and found her mouth in one smooth motion, forcing her head back into the crook of his arm while he kissed her with such desperation that she gasped.
It wasn’t practiced. It was flash fire, an aching hunger that seemed to find no satisfaction no matter how urgently he kissed her.
