by Holly Hart
Something about my words causes Janet to start. Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say anything.
Ben continues to try to help. “Well, that’s not an option. But all those things Janet said about Evan, they pertain to you too. You must know some pretty, fertile young woman on the line who’s ready to pledge her life and her firstborn to you.”
I rest my head in my hands. “I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this,” I groan. Janet clears her throat, making it perfectly clear what she thinks of my protests.
“Okay, Okay,” I mutter, lifting my head and shooting my PA an arch look.
“I’ve been so busy with this place since Evan’s arrest that I’ve barely had time to think about a woman, much less get to know one that isn’t an employee. My last date—” I use my fingers to make air quotes around the word “—was the model, Avery Voight. I took her out for dinner after she did those promotional pictures for me.”
“Don’t suppose she’d be interested in being your baby mama,” Ben asks.
I shake my head. “Doubtful.” There is a chance I could convince Avery to marry me, that it’d be fun, but she is very committed to her career – and babies and modeling don’t tend to go well together. “And I refuse to consider an employee.”
“Okay,” Ben says. “But what about before Evan got arrested? I know you dated back in those days.”
He’s right. While I’ve never been a playboy like Evan, with a different woman on my arm every night, the fact that I’m worth a fortune, look good, and also happen to be surrounded by cute, cuddly animals most of the time means I’ve never exactly lacked for female companionship.
“I guess I could look up some of those women, see if they’re still single and might be interested, but it’s been so long since I’ve moved in those circles. I’m not even sure I’d remember most of their names.”
“Time to dig out your little black book and start dialing,” Ben presses.
“I’ve never had a little black book,” I tell him.
Janet twists her hands together. “I think I have a possible solution.”
“You do?” Of all the things Janet could have said, this was the last thing I expected.
Just as surprised as I am, Ben snaps around to stare at her with wide eyes. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about yourself.”
Janet snorts slightly and rolls her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? I’m over fifty years old; my baby making days are long behind me.”
It takes all my effort to remain calm and not let out a loud sigh of relief. Janet’s a fantastic secretary and I consider her a dear friend, but the thought of marrying her, of having a baby with her—my brain refuses to even process the concept.
“So, what’s your solution then?” Ben presses.
Janet meets my eyes. “My niece.”
“What about her?” I ask.
“She’s a sweet kid, well, woman, I guess. She’s just a few years younger than you. Her family has never had much money, but they’re good people. Her dad, he’s really sick and his insurance refuses to cover the treatment. They’re desperately doing everything they can to earn the money to pay for the treatments themselves, but it isn’t easy. One of the things my niece is already talking about doing is becoming a surrogate.”
It takes a moment for her words to sink in.
“So, you’re telling me … she’s ready to have a baby, and just walk away from it?”
“Yes,” Janet says, “and no.”
“Well, that’s nice and clear,” Ben, who has always been the kind of guy who prefers things to be nicely black and white, grumbles.
“She’s prepared to become a surrogate, and knows that it means severing all connection with the child once it’s born, which worries her. She’s not sure she’s strong enough, emotionally, to do that. Like you, she’s between a rock and a hard place.”
I mull over the information, wishing I had more time to consider my options. “Do you really think she’d be willing to marry me? And to have my child?” It’s a lot to ask a woman who doesn’t have any idea who I am.
Janet shrugs. “The only way to know for sure is to ask her.”
“I suppose you’re right. If you’ll get me her number, I’ll call her later today.” That will give me time to prepare a script for what is bound to be one of the strangest and most awkward phone calls of my life.
“Or you could meet her right now,” Janet says.
“What?”
“She had a meeting here this morning.” Janet looks at her watch, a pretty gold Rolex I gave her last year as part of her Christmas bonus. “She and I are supposed to meet before she takes off so I can find out how it goes. You might as well come with me and meet her.”
Ben and I exchange glances. “Does this sound completely crazy to you?” I ask.
“Sure does,” he confirms, “but the way I see it, you don’t have much to lose. And if Janet’s niece is really as desperate for money as Janet says-.”
“What do you mean ‘if’, Benjamin Dern?” Janet snaps. Indignant fire flashes in her eyes, burning so fiercely the former SEAL actually shrinks away from her. “When have you ever heard me exaggerate about anything?”
“Never, ma’am.” Ben holds up his hands, palms outward. “But isn’t it possible that your niece is being overdramatic, or flat-out overstating the situation, hoping to gain a little sympathy from you?”
“I highly doubt it,” Janet says. “My niece is a good girl.”
“Janet, I’m sure you think so, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone has been blindsided by a relative.”
Janet puffs out her chest and draws herself up to her full height. Recognizing the signs that a huge fight is about to break out, I quickly hurry to put as much space between them as I can.
“Janet, take me to your niece.” I stand up. “Ben, I want you to find out if there’s any truth to what Harvey said about Evan being released from prison early. If he is, the missing two percent of the company is just one of the things we need to worry about. There’s no way he’s going to just stand by and let me run things, and as an equal shareholder, he has a legal right to be involved. I’m making it your responsibility to find out what can be done to stop him before he even steps into this building.”
“Deal,” Ben agrees.
Janet and I use the stairs rather than the elevator to make the short trip down one floor. Janet does it because she’s a fitness nut and uses the stairs whenever possible. I do it because it’s faster than waiting for the elevator to arrive, and I don’t know why, but every single instinct tells me that time is of the essence.
“What’s your niece like?” I have to hustle to keep up with Janet.
She shrugs. “Hard working, probably a little too serious, but her life hasn’t exactly been easy so that’s kind of understandable.” Janet shoots me a sideways glance. “Everyone in the family says she’s a lot like me.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. Janet makes my professional life easy and I do consider her a good friend, but the idea of spending the rest of my life with someone just like her … I’ll admit it, it’s a terrifying prospect.
We reach the forty-ninth floor. I hold the door open for Janet and then follow her as she makes her way to the small employee break room where her niece is waiting for her.
“Is your niece here for a job interview?”
“Yes and no,” Janet says.
I roll my eyes. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“She’s a florist. She owns a shop not too far from here. You’ve probably passed it a million times and never noticed. I arranged for her to meet with Anne Bradley, who does all the party planning and stuff like that.”
“I know who Anne is,” I interject.
“The hope was that if Anne likes my niece’s arrangements, she’ll go to her for the various floral arrangements this business needs. The extra business would really help my niece out right now.”
Janet pulls the door to
the break room open before I can beat her to it.
I step into the medium-sized room that is decorated in pale blue and off white. My eyes automatically go to the large table in the middle of the room, where the loan occupant is sitting. She’s scrolling through her phone, but I barely notice that. I’m too busy taking in a familiar, cheap pea green suit and long red ponytail. It’s the woman who unknowingly played a starring role in my unexpected elevator fantasy.
Janet pushes into the room and walks toward the table. A wide, warm smile spans her face. She’s oblivious to the fact that I’m frozen in place.
“Jeremy, this is my niece, Caitlin Appelet.” Janet places a hand on her niece’s lean shoulder. “Caitlin, this is my boss, Jeremy Caldwell. He wants to marry you.”
61
Caitlin
As a sci-fi junkie, I have watched a lot of movies and read about a thousand books with plots that deal with alternate universes where everything is all topsy-turvy, but I never expected to feel like I was dropped directly into one.
I tip my head back and stare up at my aunt Janet. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What did you just say?”
My aunt’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “I said, this is Jeremy Caldwell, my boss.” She carefully annunciates each word. “He’d like to marry you.”
She’s gone completely bonkers. I never would have thought my level-headed, always logical aunt, the one person who’s brought stability into my life, would ever be anything but realistic, but clearly I was wrong. Insanity is the only possible explanation for why she’s suddenly babbling on about someone wanting to marry me.
I slide my gaze over to her boss and the bottom falls out of my stomach.
Shit.
It’s the guy in the elevator. The one who stared at me with eyes so hot, I was surprised his gaze didn’t leave scorch rings in my ugly jacket. From the moment I stepped into the elevator I was more intensely aware of him than I’ve been of any other person I’ve ever encountered. I was grateful when the elevator finally stopped and I was able to escape his presence.
I assumed it would be the one and only time our paths would ever cross.
I never imagined that a little over half an hour later, I’d be trapped in another small space with him and an aunt who’s gone off the deep end.
He looks different now than he did in the elevator. Oh, superficially he’s the same. A charcoal gray suit that probably cost more than my car’s current value emphasizes his long, lean build. His dark, wavy hair is still perfectly in place, and his face is still George Clooney handsome, but the easy, relaxed vibe he had in the elevator is gone. He’s stiffer than before and faint lines of strain radiate from the corners of his eyes and mouth.
I don’t know what he’s gone through in the short time since we parted ways, but whatever it was, it took a toll.
Jeremy. Freaking. Caldwell.
I struggle to wrap my brain around this information. When our paths first crossed, I thought he was a mid or upper level executive. Someone who was probably out of my league, but not by so much that I wouldn’t have engaged in some harmless flirting had I not been so nervous about meeting with Anne Bradley.
I had no idea I was sharing the elevator with the one and only Jeremy Caldwell, the single most important businessman in Colorado. And one of the most sought after and mysterious bachelors in Denver.
I swallow and struggle to find my voice. “I’m sorry about my aunt. I have no idea what’s gotten into her.”
His mouth folds into a smile that, had I been standing, would have turned my knees into jelly. Damn! I’ve always had a hard time resisting a man with a nice smile, a trait I’ve paid dearly for on more than one occasion. If there’s one life lesson I’ve had drilled into me, it’s that a nice smile doesn’t always mean that the person the smile belongs to has a heart of gold.
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.” Jeremy moves closer and extends his hand across the table, leaving me no choice but to offer my own.
His hand completely envelopes my small, thin one. His heat sears my skin. It shouldn’t be comfortable; I should jerk away. But I don’t. There’s something about the rasp of his skin against mine that puts me at ease even as I become more aware of him.
Our eyes clash and I forget how to breathe.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been haunted by a pair of eyes that are as blue as the Caribbean ocean during the middle of July. But they’ve never been perfect eyes. They’ve been flawed, the blue mixed with gold.
I’ve spent my whole life looking for a pair of eyes like that but have never found them. Until now.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep it from trembling. Jeremy’s eyes, one the most perfect blue I’ve ever seen and the other half blue, half deep rich gold, shift to my mouth, staring so hard it takes all my willpower to stop myself from reaching up and covering my lips with my hands. His thumb moves, tracing small circles on the back of my hand, each swipe sending unexpected shock waves racing up my arm.
Jeremy shakes his head as if trying to pull himself out of a trance. He releases my hand and I feel the loss as keenly as if he’d taken a knife and make a clean chop through my wrist. I drop both of my hands to my lap, twisting my fingers together to prevent myself from reaching out and grabbing him.
Aunt Janet chuckles and shifts her grip, wrapping her arm around the front of my throat in a one-armed hug.
“I can see the two of you are going to get along just fine,” she murmurs in my ear, “so I’m going to leave you alone. Give me a call later and let me know how this goes. And I’ll be waiting with baited breath, so make it sooner rather than later.” She straightens and gives my ponytail a light tug. “Good luck. To both of you.”
I wrinkle my nose and watch as she lets herself out of the small break room. The door closes behind her with a soft click. “What the heck was all that about? She’s never acted so strange.”
“It’s been kind of a strange day.” He settles into the chair across from me. His beautiful eyes lock onto mine, capturing my gaze. “She tells me you’re a florist and that you’d like to be a contractor for my Caldwell Industries.”
“Yeah.” Mortification heats my cheeks. Jeremey Caldwell is asking about my desire to be a small part of his company and I start talking like a sullen teenager. Great. “I mean yes.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
I suspect he wants an answer that’s a bit more in-depth than saying I work with flowers. I struggle to remember the pitch I gave Anne. It’s not easy. The longer I stare into his eyes, the harder it is to retain a hold on my thoughts. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to remember my own name.
“I have a contract with one of those 1-800 dial-a-florist companies. I’m the only florist in Denver that they’re affiliated with, but working with them is pretty restrictive. There’s no room for creativity; every order that comes from them has to perfectly match the description they posted on their website, which is stifling, so I’d like to expand my business and do more one-on-one work with clients. My aunt gave my name to Anne Bradley and we set up an interview to look at my portfolio.”
“How’d that go?”
It might just be my imagination, but I swear his voice has gotten deeper, richer, in the past few minutes. Not that I’m complaining. Like smiles, low, sexy voices have always been a bit of a turn-on for me.
“Okay, I guess. Anne asked me some questions and looked at my portfolio. She said she’d get ahold of me in a few days and set up an appointment to see my shop. She said that if I sign a contract with Caldwell Industries, the orders will be really demanding, big, and sometimes last minute. I think she wants to make sure that I’m able to handle anything she throws at me.”
“Can you?”
“Absolutely.” I wish I felt as confident as I sound.
Jeremy shifts his weight on the chair. If he were anyone else, I’d say he was nervous. But he’s Jeremy Caldwell, business superstar, and I’m just a lowly florist who’s strugg
ling to keep the lights on. What can he possibly have to be nervous about?
“Caitlin,” he starts, only to let his voice trail off.
Unsure of what to do, I sit still and remain quiet.
Tension fills the space between us, putting pressure on both of us, making it difficult to breathe.
“Damn it.” Jeremy curses and shoves his chair back. He gets to his feet in one long, incredibly graceful move. He walks around the table and stops beside me.
He braces his hand on the back of my chair and my pulse kicks into overdrive. I pray he doesn’t notice my sudden flush as I struggle to turn my thoughts to anything but how badly I want that hand to slide over a fraction of an inch, to brush against my skin. I breathe deeply, and silently curse at myself. I’m a grown woman, one who has spent her whole professional life surrounded by men, so why is it that just having Jeremy so close sends my body into overdrive?
And more importantly, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?
“Caitlin, about what Janet said,” he begins.
Oh God. I’d been hoping to avoid that particular embarrassment.
“I really don’t know what got into her.” I scramble for a semi-plausible explanation. “I have a few cousins and Aunt Janet’s great about staying in touch with all of us. Maybe she got me confused with one of the others. I think Melanie is in the middle of a serious relationship right now. Maybe her boyfriend is getting ready to pop the question, and talked to Aunt Janet about it.”
There’s no need to tell him that Melanie lives in Delaware and that the one and only time Janet met her boyfriend, Janet called him a toadstool-encrusted turd and shoved him into Melanie’s parents’ swimming pool.
Jeremy shakes his head. “She wasn’t talking about your cousin. She was talking about you and me. I want you to marry me and have my baby. What do you say to that?”
62
Jeremy
