by Susan Hatler
He tilted his head to the side as he moved the spatula around the pan. “Technically, it could be considered two of the three. Now I’ve answered a question. Your turn.”
“How could it be two of them?” I protested, then sighed when he gave me a look, reminding me it was my turn. Fine. “The H.R. Manager position was a really great offer, but I wasn’t excited about it. Kaitlin has more experience and loves human resources, so she’s better matched for it.”
He tossed a tortilla on another pan. “What about you?”
“Nice try.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “My turn.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Go.”
I watched him pull two plates out of the cupboard, and cursed myself for checking out his (mighty fine) backside. “Why do you keep your secret all hush-hush?”
“There could be a question of ownership.” He scooped the tortillas onto the plates, then did the same with the sautéed veggies. “If word got out, it might get taken away from me, and I’m not going to risk that happening.”
My eyes bulged. “It’s stolen?”
“It was a gift, and now I get two questions in a row.” He carried our plates to the dining table, and called back to me. “Could you grab some silverware out of the drawer to the left of the sink?”
“Sure.” I hopped off the barstool, and opened the drawer to the left of the sink. No silverware, only a messy pile of receipts, papers, and who knew what else. Even though Ethan might possibly be hiding something, it felt wrong invading his privacy. Instead of taking the opportunity to snoop, I forced myself my eyes away and opened the next drawer. “Got them.”
When I turned around, I caught him watching me. “What?”
He paused, as if trying to decide something. Then he said, “You stopped when you had the wrong drawer. Why?”
My stomach clenched, but I walked toward him, and took a seat anyway. “I thought about rifling through it.”
His brows quirked, in that cute way they did when I’d confused him. “What for?”
I gave him a duh look. “To see what you’re hiding.”
The muscles on his jaw tightened. “Are you going to check my phone next?”
Hearing my words thrown back in my face was like a slap. “You asked what I was thinking, and I was just being honest. It’s not like I actually did it.”
“Here.” He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it to me. “Knock yourself out.”
Holding his smart phone felt like owning his world. The pathway to anything I’d want to know about Ethan had to be in this phone. Photos, documents, text messages . . . my mouth was practically watering. Then I thought of Ellen, as she’d touched her stomach, and told me she trusted Henry with her heart.
Then I thought of Jake.
I tapped into Ethan’s photos first. “Hmm. Looks like someone went hiking last weekend.”
“We did a ten-mile hike at Point Reyes.” He lifted his fajita, as if to take a bite. “Gorgeous views.”
“I can see that,” I said, freezing on a picture of Ethan shirtless at the top of a cliff—the California coastline below him wasn’t bad either. The way the blue-gray water reached for the shore with white foamy fingers, appeared ethereal. “I want to go there.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Name the date.”
“You mean go together?” My insides glowed at the thought, and I considered it. “We’d have to coordinate calendars.”
“You’re holding my calendar,” he said, then popped the last bite of his fajita into his mouth.
My lashes lifted. “So, I should just write myself in?”
“Any day you want.” His eyes met mine with a sizzling look that shot zings through me.
I gulped, wanting him to save every date for me. Tempting. Way too tempting. Instead of answering, I slid my finger across the screen, switching to a photo of some guy (not half as hot as Ethan) giving Ethan’s camera the finger. “Charming.”
He laughed. “That’s James. We had a bet on who’d reach the peak first. He lost.”
I smiled. Men.
Thinking that James could be on his knee proposing as we sat here, my heart rate kicked up as I considered what a relationship with Ethan would be like. It’d be different than with Jake. For one, Ethan and I had the same interests. We also laughed together, which Jake and I rarely did. And Ethan had told me to pick any date, unlike Jake who used to tell me when he was available.
Was Ethan trustworthy? Like Henry (hopefully) was? Ethan had handed me his phone/world, after all. My heart zipped from a trot to a gallop as I decided to go hiking with him. I opened my mouth to suggest Sunday when, suddenly, Ethan’s cell phone vibrated in my hand. A local number displayed on the screen. “I’m guessing it’s for you.”
Ethan gave me a look I couldn’t read, like he didn’t want the call, then finally took the phone. “This is Ethan. Who? Oh, right. Hi, Amanda.”
With that one name, my heart stopped, and I remembered the girl from Ethan’s office who’d hung on every word he said. She was calling him now? After eight o’clock? How’d she get his number?
Alarms went off in my head, and I couldn’t hear Ethan’s conversation through the mental sirens. I picked at what was left of my dinner, which felt like coming back up my throat.
Finally, Ethan hung up, and set his phone down. “That was Tiffany’s friend. She’s having some legal problems she wants to talk to me about.”
I stared at him, my heart steeling over. “You keep late office hours.”
Ignoring my snarky comment, his forehead wrinkled. “She wants to meet me after work tomorrow. At a bar.”
“You should go.” I stood, picked up my plate, then carried it to the kitchen. “She seems nice.”
For a girl who was using some kind of legal jam to make a date with a hot lawyer.
He came up behind me, and leaned over my shoulder, so his mouth was close to my ear. “I’d rather go out with you,” he said.
My heart flipped, but then I remembered the weird look Ethan made when I’d handed him the phone and wondered what he was hiding. “I’m not dating right now.”
His eyes searched mine. “I’ll wait until you’re ready. What do you think I’ve been doing the last four months?”
I gaped at him. “Are you saying . . .?”
“That I’m crazy about you? Yes.” He stepped forward, then lifted my chin with his finger. “And you feel the same way about me.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “What makes you say that?”
He tilted his head, his eyes gazing at me with all their intensity. “You told me when a girl worth dating liked me, I’d know. Save a real date for me, Kristen. Friday night.”
A rush of dizziness overtook me, and I grabbed onto the island countertop to steady myself. “I already told you I can’t go through the turmoil again.”
He slipped his hands around my waist. “It wouldn’t be like that with us.”
“I don’t know that.” I stepped back, feeling like he was asking me to walk the plank with a herd of man-eating sharks circling below. That red and white life preserver wouldn’t do much to save my heart from being ripped apart. “It’s too much, Ethan. I’ve already told you.”
His expression tensed. “Kristen—”
“It’s getting late and I have to work early.” My throat tightened. “Do you still want to show me the secret?”
His eyes focused on me, dark, and intense. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to show.”
And, with that, he led me to his bedroom.
****
The secret was a person, I decided. Although, technically, it was a thing. Ethan’s face rose from the marble block, as if trying to break free of a prison, determination and focus in every muscle. He stared back at me with that look of his—simmering and intense—his expression frozen forever in luminous, white marble.
I ran my finger along his strong cheekbone—cold, hard, smooth. “It’s beautiful.”
�
��My mother’s family worked for the Medici dynasty in Florence and in Rome.” Ethan’s voice filled with emotion. “Michelangelo’s creativity had been repressed while painting the Sistine Chapel. The history behind this sculpture is that he’d taken a liking to one of the Medici gardeners—and sculpted him from pure inspiration.”
“Michelangelo?” Amazing. This sculpture rivaled the face of Michelangelo’s David. Literally. I stared at the timeless, handsome man in awe. “What was the gardener’s name?”
“Giovanni, which means John in English. ” Ethan’s voice tightened. “My full name is John Ethan Harrison.”
Tears filled my eyes, unable to believe something this breathtaking had been hidden away for hundreds of years. “You said there’s a question of who owns it?”
“Michelangelo gifted it to Giovanni. The Carrara marble he used to sculpt it? May or may not have been given to Michelangelo by the Medici family.” Ethan shrugged. “Even if we could prove Michelangelo owned the marble, what evidence do we have that he gave it to Giovanni? A poor servant?”
I traced around the eyes. “He looks just like you.”
Ethan nodded. “Even if that could help in court, and I’m not saying it would, if word got out, I’d never be able to keep it here at home.”
“Where it belongs.” I sighed. “You were right about the secret. I do love it.”
“I’m right about other things, too.” He peered at me, with those Giovanni eyes. “Give us a chance, Kristen. A real date. Tomorrow night.”
My heart wanted to scream yes, but my head made me pull back. “You should go out with Amanda.”
A flicker of hurt crossed his face. “You’d be fine if I did?”
I’d be crushed, but I couldn’t tell him that. Then he’d know how close I was to caving, and I needed to stay strong. Time to go.
I slipped my purse over my shoulder, then headed toward the front door. “I’ll be focusing on me, and starting a new career.”
“A career you won’t care about.” He bit out, surprising me with his harsh tone.
I whirled around. “That’s not true,” I said, although deep inside I had doubts.
His forehead creased. “Your belong in counseling, and you’re running away from the profession you love, just like you’re running away from me.”
My voice tightened. “I’m not running away from anything.”
More like walking at a fast pace.
He shook his head. “Don’t turn your back on what you care about because of that dirtbag. You have a passion for therapy, Kristen. Fight for it. Fight for those people who need you.”
“Goodnight, Ethan.” Without glancing back at him, I slipped outside, and yanked the door shut behind me. I hurried to my car, drove home, and my eyes burned the entire way.
As I pulled into my garage and parked, the ache in my chest grew bigger and bigger until it overpowered me. I dropped my head on the steering wheel and unleashed the pain, hot tears streaming down my face as I sobbed.
Ethan’s words were a grisly reminder of everything I couldn’t have. Didn’t he get that I wanted to counsel? But, my clients deserved a counselor who could help them, not someone who doubted herself.
Remaining in my car until my eyes were dry and raw, I watched each hour pass on the clock, as Ethan’s brutal comments circled my brain. I’d always been a woman who strove for what she wanted, not ran from it. I had to find a way to be her again.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t the first clue how to do that.
****
Thursday night had been a nightmare, and Friday morning felt like a horrifying sequel. I’d withdrawn my acceptance letter for the H.R. position. By noon, Chloe had interviewed Kaitlin, run a background check, and hired her.
Kaitlin and Chloe were ecstatic.
Unfortunately, for me, Chloe had contacted the new permanent receptionist last night and coaxed her into starting Monday morning, earlier than she’d previously been able to. So, I was out of my temp job. To say I was stressed, would be putting it mildly.
Everything hung on my Career Crush results now.
Noah had agreed to let me use his office during the lunch hour again, so I rode the elevator up, then knocked on his door.
“Come in,” he called out.
“Hey.” I slipped my head in, wondering why he hadn’t left for lunch yet. “Is it still all right to use your office for my career counseling class?”
My last test. Then, I’d find out how to move on with my life.
“Yes.” He leaned back in his office chair, hands folded across his lap. “But first, would you close the door? I need to talk to you.”
His tone sounded tense.
Concerned, I shut the door, then took a seat in front of his desk. “What’s going on?”
His blue eyes peered at me, and I noticed the deep circles under them. “Rach and I had a huge fight last night.”
I cringed. “I’m sorry.”
He raked his hands through his hair. “She’s upset about my dinner with Kate, and I thought of canceling it. If seeing my ex makes Rach that uncomfortable, then it’s just not worth it. You know?”
Yeah, but I didn’t know Mr. Sports Man had a sensitive side. “Good idea. Call it off.”
He steepled his hands in front of his chest. “I was going to, but then you told me I should examine my own motivations.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask, but the deep-seated counselor inside me couldn’t resist. “What were your motivations?”
“Next weekend is our two-month anniversary and I wanted to take Rach someplace special.” He looked a little shy about telling me that, which I actually found kind of adorable. “But I paid cash for the boat and I’m saving for a house.”
Good with finances. And sensitive. Huh. Impressive.
“A friend told me Kate was coming to Sac, so I called her to see if she could give me a deal on a weekend getaway through her work. She said to come by the hotel for dinner and she’d have some packages for me to choose from.”
Confused, I tilted my head. “She knows you have a girlfriend?”
“Of course.” He sounded surprised I’d asked. “Kate gets luxury deals dirt-cheap. So, after talking to you, I figured my motivations were good so I should go through with the dinner. Now, I’m not so sure.”
Uh, I’d worried he’d been planning a hot hook-up on the side. He’d really been arranging a romantic weekend for Rach? Oh, the guilt hit me. It hit me hard.
My face went numb. “Noah, that’s so . . . thoughtful.”
“Right?” His brows came together then. “I can understand it being a little awkward with my ex coming around—although Kate doesn’t hold a candle to Rach—but, she freaked out last night like she doesn’t trust me. And, I have to say, that really hurt.”
And like that, I realized, I’d done a very bad thing.
“Um, Noah?” I swallowed. “Rach did want to talk to you about her insecurities. I kind of encouraged her not to.”
His jaw went slack. “Why would you do that?”
I felt nauseous, but I owed Noah the truth. “You were cozying up to your ex at a hotel. Come on, Noah. You know how that looked. I didn’t want her to get blindsided like I did.”
His eyes went wide, like he’d found out his favorite baseball player had been transferred. “You thought I’d cheat on Rach?”
I swallowed, not liking the answer.
He shook his head. “That’s what you think of me?”
“No. It’s not.” My voice was firm. It’s what I knew about Jake. And I’d applied it to every guy since I’d left him. My throat tightened, ashamed at the trouble I’d caused. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
He didn’t answer, just brushed past the desk, and out of the office, closing the door behind him. I didn’t know if Noah would forgive me, but I had to find a way to make things right between Rach and him.
Sitting alone in Noah’s office, I pulled my cell from my purse, and considered phoning Ethan for advice. Then, I stopped myself. What if he
’d already called Amanda to go on that date? I wasn’t sure I could take that.
Besides, I needed to clean up this mess on my own.
So, I texted Rach: Drinks. 5pm. Just you and me. I’m buying.
Chapter Seven
Rach curled up on the sofa next to me, in the lounge of the downtown Sheraton Grand. A gentleman took our drink orders, then she checked her watch. “I’ve decided to return my new night vision binoculars.”
My eyes bulged. “Night vision goggles?”
She nodded. “Noah’s dinner with his ex is tonight. I wanted to follow him, and prove he’s not playing around on me.”
Guilt seeped in. “What changed your mind?”
“We had this huge fight last night.” She slumped, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I, um, kind of insinuated that something might be going on between him and Kate.”
I sucked in a breath, knowing how much her accusation had hurt Noah. “What’d he say?”
Tears filled her eyes. “He left my apartment, without a word, then ignored me all day. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never talked to me again. And I don’t blame him.”
“Oh, Rach.” I put my hand over hers.
She shook her head. “I don’t like him having dinner with his ex, but he would never cheat on me. I handled this all wrong.”
Feeling guilty, my throat tightened. “This is my fault.”
Her brows quirked. “You’ve done nothing but try to help me.”
I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t true. “You were feeling insecure, and you came to me for advice. I should’ve encouraged you to start a dialogue with Noah. Open up and ask the hard questions. That’s what intimacy is about.”
A light bulb flashed above my head, and, suddenly, I knew this was exactly where I’d gone wrong with Jake. I’d never put my feelings out there by asking him things like: 1) How much freaking space does one person need?; 2) Why are your friends always too busy for me to meet them (ditto on family)?; and 3) Is a holiday together really so much to ask for after eight months? If I’d spoken up, maybe I would’ve gotten a clue that half his free time was booked because he spent it with another woman.
