by Layla Hagen
Eric hands me his phone, and I try—and fail—to ignore the flip in my stomach as his fingers touch mine.
I type my number. Without looking up, I ask, “Did you hear any part of our conversation?”
“A little. Something about tall, dark, and handsome. And about cobwebs.”
“So, you basically eavesdropped on our entire conversation.” My throat becomes dry.
“I did. Can I have my phone back now?”
“Sure.” Snapping my gaze up to him, I return the phone. “This is my most embarrassing moment, and I have quite a few of those under my belt. I’ll start digging a hole in the ground now. I should disappear off the face of the earth by the time the wedding’s over.”
“Pippa—”
“Sorry. My sister can be a bit meddling sometimes. I think she learned it from me. And I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” He smiles.
“Obviously.”
He eyes me in silence for an entire minute, which does nothing to soothe my nerves. “You are adorable.” Tilting his head forward, he puts his lips to my ear and whispers, “Just to silence any doubts, it was a hot look.”
My breath catches. “I… Well… I’m not sure if that’s any less embarrassing.”
Pulling back, he asks, “Why don’t we talk that over during a dance?”
“What about Julie?”
“She’s in good company.” He points to the table, where Julie is engrossed in a conversation with Nadine, Logan’s fiancée, and Alice. On a sigh, I realize I was right. My sister is playing matchmaker, and Nadine is playing along with her. They’re beating me at my own game.
“Okay, let’s dance, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.”
Without further ado, he offers me his arm. I quickly put on my shoes, and then he guides us to the dance floor. The band has switched to an animated song, and this man can dance. My heart beats at a frantic pace from the quick rhythm of our moves. Being so close to him, I can take in his scent—sandalwood and mint—and it’s addictive.
“You’re a great dancer,” I murmur as the song ends. The band switches to a slower song, and Eric immediately takes one of my hands in his, curling his other arm around my waist. I’d hoped my heart rate would slow down, but being in his arms has the opposite effect.
“Forgive me if I come across as curious, but you seem to know more about me than I do about you.”
I laugh nervously. “What do you want to know?”
“Why is your sister trying to set you up? A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have any problems finding a date on her own.”
Ah, going straight for the punch. “I’m divorced and haven’t done well in the dating department lately. Alice is trying to be helpful.”
We move to the music for a few seconds before he speaks. “About what she said about me… She made me sound like a catch.”
“And you want to tell me you’re not?”
“Well, I am tall, dark, and handsome, obviously.” He winks at me.
I laugh. God, I love a man who can make me laugh. “Obviously.”
The smile on his face morphs into a serious expression. “But I’m damaged goods, not a catch. Not at all. And I don’t know you, but I think you deserve someone who is. Whether to take you out on dates, or help you out with that cobweb situation.”
I burst out laughing, hoping it hides my embarrassment. I make a mental note never to use that expression again.
“So the hot look—” I begin, but he interrupts me with a headshake.
“Was a moment of weakness on my part. I am only a man, after all, and you are beautiful.”
My cheeks heat up. “You are awfully articulate about your thoughts and feelings.”
“I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve. Not always the best thing, but I can’t be any other way. And after my wife passed away, I saw a therapist for a few years. He helped me articulate—as you call it—my thoughts. Learning to do that was especially important for Julie.”
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
“It happened a long time ago.” He gazes into the distance, emotions warring on his handsome face—pain, resignation, maybe hope. A deep frown stretches on his forehead, and I decide on the spot this won’t do. I make it my mission to bring back that gorgeous smile of his.
I needn’t have worried because the band switches to a fifties tune, and Eric wiggles his eyebrows.
“Another dance?” he asks.
“Rock-n-roll? Seriously?”
“I have moves,” he assures me in a voice full of delicious promise. “I’m not a catch, but that doesn’t mean I can’t throw and catch you.”
“Whatever you’re planning to do, keep in mind I’m wearing a dress. I don’t want to flash my thong for everyone to see, even if it is a gorgeous red from La Perla—”
“Stop talking about your underwear. I’m already picturing it, and that’s a slippery road.” Without further ado, he lifts me in his arms and proceeds to steal the breath from my lungs. He half lowers, half throws me to his right and then to his left. I keep my knees firmly together until my feet are back on the floor. By the end of the dance, my head is spinning.
“Oh, my God,” I say. “This was… I can’t believe you pulled that off.”
“Your lack of faith in me is insulting,” he says as we step away from the dance floor. “I should get back to my daughter.”
“You do that, and I’ll see both of you on Monday. She’ll love my office. I have samples all around.”
“Why are you being so nice to us?”
“I’m nice to everyone,” I reply a little too quickly. “But I like Julie. She and I will get along well.”
“So it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” His smile is priceless.
“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“I haven’t even started on the cobwebs. See you on Monday.” He gives me a quick nod before returning to his daughter, leaving me breathless and smiling. Going back to my seat, I help myself to a cookie, stealing glances at Eric. That man is eye candy. I can’t seem to look away from him, just as I can’t seem to stop myself from putting yet another cookie on my plate.
At least eye candy has zero calories.
Chapter Two
Eric
“Dad,” Julie says on Monday, as we eat our breakfast. “I want to wear lipstick.”
I choke on my toast, looking at her across the table. “Wh—at?”
“I want a lipstick.”
“You’re too young.”
She folds her arms over her chest, already taking her fighting stance. My daughter is lovely, but when she puts her mind to something she’s more stubborn than I am. Folding her arms is the first step, frowning the second. By that time, I usually cower to her demands, but I will stand firm on this.
“Dad, I’m twelve.”
“I allow you to wear lip gloss occasionally, but you’re still too young to wear lipstick.” Yeah, I know the difference between the two. Comes with the territory of being a single father.
“Says who?”
“I do.”
“Well, you’re not a girl. You don’t understand.” She sighs dramatically. “I want red lipstick.”
“Finish your sandwich, Julie.”
She verbalized one of my biggest fears: that she needs a feminine presence. I’ve always known this, but that doesn’t make hearing her say it out loud any easier.
It took me a long time to piece myself together after Sarah died. After the worst was over, and at the encouragement of friends and family, I started dating. It turned out to be a bad move. Women feigned to be interested in Julie in order to get a second date, so I stopped. Until my daughter turns eighteen, she will be my priority. It’s just the two of us, and that’s okay most of the time. Until she starts asking me about wearing lipstick. At twelve years old. Dealing with boyfriends will be a bloodbath.
“I’m done,” Julie ann
ounces when her plate is empty. “We can go.”
“Are you sure you want to come to the office with me? I can ask Ms. Blackwell to spend the day with you.”
Julie has two permanent nannies back in Boston, Ms. Smith and Ms. Blackwell, the latter who agreed to come with us from Boston to San Francisco over the summer. Julie isn’t thrilled about having round-the-clock nannies, but she understands it’s necessary.
“No, I want to see your office. It’s funny to watch you scare people.”
“I want them to do their job. I don’t scare them intentionally.”
“That’s the funniest part.”
“Okay, let’s go. Did you put your inhaler in your backpack?”
Julie nods, slinging the straps of her backpack over her shoulder. My daughter is a fighter. After the accident, I brought in the best doctors to treat her. Even so, they couldn’t perform miracles. She had sustained heavy injuries to her left leg and hip, as well as the left lung. Despite their best efforts, my baby will always walk with a limp and have to carry her inhaler with her. She rarely has respiratory attacks—mostly when she’s doing physical exertion—but she must carry it with her as a precaution.
The limp and the inhaler were a magnet for bullies, which is why she’s changed four schools up until now, and she finally seems to be making friends there.
“I like this house, Dad,” Julie comments as we walk out the front door.
“Glad you do.”
It’s a one-story with a garden and a pool in the heart of San Francisco. The house is simple, yet elegant. The exterior walls are painted in a light green, and white shutters are on the windows.
I could have rented a more luxurious house; I can certainly afford it. However, I grew up with others who came from old money, and I’ve seen that financial security offers opportunities but also destroys lives. A number of my childhood friends got involved in gambling, drugs, or simply wasted their lives away because they never had to work. I plan to teach my daughter what the right way is. I owe that to Sarah.
As I drive us to the office, I wonder if bringing Julie to San Francisco was a good idea after all. She says she’s excited to travel with me, but she knows no one here. Let’s hope that will change once summer school starts. I can’t help feeling that bringing her to San Francisco was a selfish decision. I need to spend a few months here to oversee the expansion, and I scheduled this trip to coincide with her summer holiday because I couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from her for three entire months.
“This is a huge building,” Julie announces once we get out of the car. A skyscraper stands in front of us in the buzzing business district. We arrived in San Francisco on Friday morning, and I came into the office shortly thereafter to meet the team, but it’s the first time here for Julie.
“Only four floors belong to us.”
“Why? Your office is an entire building in Boston. Though the building’s smaller.”
“The team here is much smaller. We’re just starting out on the West Coast.”
My great-grandfather started Callahan’s Finest as a one-man shop selling jewelry. Since then, the company grew to a multi-million-dollar juggernaut. We own hundreds of shops on the East Coast and even in Europe, but none on the West Coast. Recently, one of our competitors went bankrupt, and we bought their assets on this coast—and their team.
Julie and I take the elevator and ride up to the fifth floor. When we step out of it, I switch to full-on business mode. This is a new team, and seeing me arrive with my daughter might give them the impression I’m a softie. I’m not—when it comes to business. They don’t call me ‘the shark’ for nothing.
“Veronica,” I tell my secretary. “Please tell the team we can start the meeting in five minutes.”
“The meeting room is prepared. Will your daughter go in with you?”
“No. She’ll remain in my office.”
I lead Julie to my office—a corner room with floor-to-ceiling windows on two adjacent walls.
“I’ll be gone for an hour,” I tell her. “You can stay here and draw. If you need anything, Veronica will be outside. After lunch, I’ll take you to Pippa.”
As I make my way to the meeting room, I try—as I tried all weekend—not to think about Pippa Bennett. That woman is something else. Everything about her tempts me, from her kindness to Julie to her addictive laughter. Her rambling tendency is adorable—except when she casually speaks about her underwear. Then it’s dangerous.
Damn it, Callahan. Pull yourself together. I’m here for three months, so dating Pippa is out of the question. Still, I smile at the memory of dancing with her. In those moments, I wasn’t the concerned father or the stern businessman. I was just myself, and it was refreshing.
Stepping into the meeting room, I scan the party before announcing my presence. The atmosphere in the room is relaxed, the two dozen employees around the oval table sharing jokes and chattering. Well, that’s about to change. Since I bought the company in a hostile takeover, I don’t imagine they look forward to working with me.
“Good morning,” I say loudly, and the chatter dissolves to whispers. “Let’s start this meeting. We have three months to make Callahan’s Finest run like a well-oiled machine on the West Coast. The clock starts ticking as of this moment.”
The whispers instantly die. I glance around the room at everyone’s stricken expression. Perfect. Mom made a bet with me that the team will call me ‘the shark’ by the end of my stay here. I bet against her—I plan to earn that moniker by the end of the week.
***
Julie and I walk into Bennett Enterprises five hours later. The doorman informs me that the Creative department is on the first floor.
Two things shock me when Julie and I enter the Creative department. One: the mayhem. Two: Pippa Bennett—specifically the way she runs this mayhem, with severity. I wasn’t expecting this from the sweet woman who trusted me to dance wildly with her at the wedding.
There are ten desks in this open-space area, and each of them is cluttered with poster-sized papers with designs and unfinished pieces of jewelry.
Pippa is right in the center of the room, wearing a snug blue dress that highlights her delicious curves. She’s talking to a twenty-something guy who’s a head shorter than she is. He’s biting his nails, glancing at Pippa while she comments on the paper he’s holding in front of her.
“Luke, I love you, but if you ever hand me something this half-assed again, we will have a serious conversation.” Even though her voice is stern, I detect a hint of warmth in it. Interestingly, the poor schmuck she berated doesn’t look terrified, just ashamed. The people I berate usually look like they’re about to pee their pants after I’m done with them. Of course, I don’t soften my criticism with I love you, either.
“I’ll have a new design on your desk in thirty minutes. Sorry.” He mumbles something more before scurrying to one of the desks. Pippa turns to a redhead sitting behind a computer, typing furiously.
“Kathy, how are we doing on the prototypes?”
“I’m on it,” the redhead answers. “Riley’s trying to buy time, but I’m on it.”
“Ride his ass if you have to,” Pippa says briskly. “I need that done today.”
That’s when Pippa sees us. We’re still standing by the door, and it’s a miracle Julie kept quiet this long. One look at her and I solve the mystery—she’s mesmerized by the jewels all around the room.
“I didn’t see you there,” Pippa exclaims. She walks toward us, a large smile on her face. Her long, blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders, covering her breasts. As she pushes her hair back, I have a moment of weakness, studying the delicate curve of her neck as discreetly as I can. Another moment of weakness follows as I drink in the perfect way her hips sway.
Pippa stops in front of us, directing all her attention to Julie.
“Like them?” Pippa asks her. My daughter’s eyes are glued to the nearest stand of jewels.
“Are these diamonds?�
�� Julie asks. She’s been in a few of our shops, but we don’t have precious stones lying around like this.
“Yes, they are,” Pippa answers. “I also have rubies and sapphires on my desk.”
“Wow,” Julie exclaims.
“Say good-bye to your dad, and we’ll get started. I’ve prepared everything. That’s my desk.” Pippa points with her thumb behind her to the largest desk at the far end of the room. “I brought in a second chair for you.”
Julie gives me a quick good-bye kiss before running off to the desk. Pippa follows her with her gaze, then turns to me, keeping her focus firmly on a point on my shirt. Is she avoiding my eyes?
Not one to beat around the bush, I ask, “Pippa, are you avoiding looking at me?”
“Yes,” she whispers, snapping her gaze up.
“Why?”
“You did it again,” she replies, this time in a stronger voice.
“What?”
“The hot look,” she clarifies. “Earlier.”
“Right.” I run a hand through my hair, mentally cursing. Guess my moments of weakness weren’t as discreet as I thought. Pippa pushes a strand of her golden blonde hair behind her ears, and that’s when I see the tip of her ear is red. Can this woman be any cuter? She’s a goofball, sexy goddess, laughing partner, and stern businesswoman all rolled into one.
“I’ll try my best not to do it again. Can’t make any promises, though. You’re too damn beautiful.”
Pippa licks her lips, looking away. It’s time for me to give her some space.
“Are you sure it’s all right if I leave Julie here the entire afternoon?” I press.
“Yes,” she answers. “And before you ask, it’s also okay if she comes every day for the next two weeks until her classes start. I promised her.”
“If it gets too much, tell me. I’ll make something up to get you off the hook.”
Pippa crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep. I won’t disappoint her. She has plenty of time to be disappointed when she’s older.”
A shadow crosses her eyes, and my protective instincts kick in. She doesn’t deserve to be disappointed or hurt. I barely know her, but someone who shows so much kindness to strangers deserves the best.
