Now that he’d seen other sides to Claire, he could smile as he remembered her earlier tirade. The only person who’d yelled at him during the past ten years was Alan. Everyone else treated him with false respect because of his money. Some comment she’d yelled at him nagged at the edge of his mind until he caught it.
I need thousands of dollars to get pregnant or never have children.
Jake frowned. What the hell had she meant by that?
Before he could pursue the thought, something she was saying penetrated his thoughts, a cash-flow improvement that had never occurred to him, or Alan, either. He asked a sharp question, which she answered easily, then explained in detail. She certainly could improve Pawnee’s accounting practices. Claire continued to impress him with her knowledge of money transfers and investments.
Her ideas were not large scale by any means. From what she said, he knew she tended to see the trees rather than the forest. But that didn’t bother him. Alan was the same way. It was one reason their partnership worked so well.
Claire’s suggestions—shaving off interest here, adding a bit of income there—could save Pawnee Investments quite a bit of money in the long run.
Without warning, the lights flashed on. The glare was like walking out of a movie theater into blinding sunlight. Their discussion halted just as suddenly.
“The power’s back on,” she said unnecessarily.
He heard the disappointment in her voice and was surprised to realize it echoed his own feelings. He glanced at his watch. “It’s ten-twenty. We’ve been stuck for over two and a half hours.”
“So long? I didn’t realize—Oh, we’re moving.”
She stood and bent to pick up his coat. She brushed it off carefully and handed it to him as he straightened.
He took it slowly, reluctant to let go of the intimate feeling that being stranded had engendered between them. He felt like he knew Claire Eden better than he’d known anyone in a long time—including Alan. The realization startled him.
“You’re staring again,” she pointed out softly.
Was he just imagining a husky quality in her voice? In the glare of the fluorescent lights, he discovered that she was every bit as lovely as the dimness had led him to believe. Now he could see her hair was the color of polished chestnuts, her eyes the brilliant blue of a clear fall sky, her skin as smooth as new snow. “Am I?”
She tore her eyes from his. “Yes.”
“Does it bother you?”
A slight shudder shook her frame. “It’s not polite to stare. You were on which parking level?”
“One.”
As she pressed two buttons, the emergency. phone rang. She plucked it from behind the panel. “Hello?... Yes, we’re all right... The lobby? We’re headed there now... All right.”
She hung up the phone. “Someone’s going to meet us in the lobby.”
He nodded. “They want to make sure we’re not going to sue. So, when are we going to continue our discussion?”
She glanced at him in surprise. “You want to hear more?”
His lips curved. “We haven’t even touched on loopholes in the tax laws. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? What time?” she asked hopefully.
“How about dinner?”
“I—”
The elevator eased to a stop, and the chrome doors slid open at the lobby. A man wearing a blue suit and a worried expression greeted them. He insisted they accompany him to his office to fill out some forms.
Claire tried to assure the man that the way she looked had nothing to do with the elevator stalling, but Jake cut her off. He whipped out a business card and handed it to the man. “Send the forms to my office tomorrow. I’ll have my attorney take care of it.”
The man took one look at the card, and his face went white. He fussed over them until Jake insisted, “Right now we just want to get home.”
The man took the hint and left them alone. As the marble walls of the empty lobby echoed with his retreating footsteps, Jake shrugged into his coat. “I’ll walk you to your car. Where are you parked?”
“I’m not. I took a cab. The transmission in my car decided the thunderstorm today was a good time to conk out on me.”
He stared at her a long minute, then reached out and pressed the elevator button. “I’ll drive you home.”
“That’s okay. I can call another cab.”
“No. I’ll drive you.”
Her chin lifted. In just a few hours, he’d already learned that gesture meant she was about to object to something he’d said. To stave off her argument, he pointed out the windows at the front of the building. “It’s still raining. A gentleman does not leave a lady to wait on a cab in the rain.”
Her chin lifted even higher. “I don’t need a big, strong man to take care of me. I have two arms, two legs and a brain, just like you. Got it?”
He smiled, which seemed to irk her more. No one had treated him like this in a long time. Like she didn’t care if she made him mad. Like just another human being. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it “I’m taking you home because I have a car and you don’t. Got it?”
“You’re doing it because you think you’re protecting me from the big bad bogeyman. Well, I’ve been on my own for almost seven years and one hasn’t gotten me yet.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. “No one should be alone in downtown Denver at night. If you were Wonder Woman, I’d offer you a ride home. Now, please...”
She looked him over with narrowed eyes, then made a visible effort to relax. “Okay. Sorry. You seem to bring out the worst in me—just like my brothers.” She stepped onto the elevator and turned toward the buttons. “Level one, right?”
He nodded and stepped into the elevator as she pressed the button. They didn’t say anything during the short trip down a couple of levels. When he placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her to his Jeep, she stiffened, so he removed it. He pressed the button on his remote, and the dark green vehicle beeped a greeting as they approached.
“This is your car?” she asked as he opened the passenger door for her.
“Something wrong?”
“I just thought you’d have a limo, or a Mercedes at the very least.”
“I drive American, and I drive myself.”
He closed the door on her next comment and walked around to slide under the steering wheel. The engine started smoothly, and he headed out of the parking lot into the pouring rain. Her directions were the only thing said between them until he pulled up in front of her rental town house only a few miles from his own office building.
He switched off the engine. “You’ve been quiet.”
“I didn’t want to distract you. The wet streets and all.” She reached for the door latch. “Thanks for the ride. Good night.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven-thirty.”
Her hand stopped in midair.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“You make it sound like a date.”
“I have to attend a benefit for the museum, and I need a date. Why can’t we combine business with pleasure?”
She shook her head. “There are lots of reasons.”
“Name three.”
“If we’re on a date, you’ll think of me as a woman.”
Jake couldn’t keep a sensuous smile from spreading across his face. “It’s a little hard not to when that’s what you are. Reason number two?”
She frowned. “If you’re thinking of me as a woman, you won’t take me seriously as an accountant.”
He shook his head emphatically. “Not true. You saw tonight how seriously I took you. Two reasons shot down. One to go.”
She stared at him so long he thought she was going to argue, but then suddenly her eyes fell away. “I’m not...I’ve never been too good at dating. Alex says I scare men away intentionally.”
“Alex?”
“My sister-in-law. But my point is, if we’re on a date, pretty soon you won’t
like me, or I won’t like you, and that will make our working together very uncomfortable.” She glanced at him anxiously. “Assuming you hire me, of course.”
“Do you?” he asked quietly.
She blinked. “Do I what?”
“Do you scare men away intentionally?”
“Look, I didn’t mean to get into a—”
“Answer the question.”
She sighed. “Probably. I mean, I did when I was in high school and college. The only men around were natty young cowboys with nothing but hay between their ears. Since I moved to Denver I haven’t met anyone I like enough to play all those silly games men want to play.”
Jake admired her honesty. How long had it been since he’d met a woman who didn’t thrive on subterfuge? “Then I’ve been forewarned. But I’ll tell you something...”
“What?” she asked when he didn’t continue.
“I don’t scare easily.”
She looked away. “No. I don’t suppose you would.”
Her hand was moving toward the door latch again when he stopped her with a touch on her arm. “One more question. What did you mean when you said you need thousands of dollars or you’ll never have children?”
Chapter Three
Claire’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t tell you about that...did I?”
“Actually, you yelled it.”
Suddenly remembering what she’d screamed in the elevator, she leaned back against the headrest and groaned. “I can’t believe I blurted that out. I must’ve been out of my mind.”
“Is it true?”
Claire briefly considered lying, but his dark face—lit only by the indirect lights of the parking lot—was intent and serious. “Unfortunately.”
“What’s wrong?”
She frowned. “I can’t discuss it with you. It’s too personal.”
“I’m a person.”
His concern seemed genuine, but on top of being a stranger, this was Jacob Anderson, one of the richest men in Colorado. Her future boss, hopefully. She couldn’t bore him with her medical history. “Why in the world would you want to know?”
He reached out and caught her hand. “Call it a friend’s concern.”
Her hand felt small nestled in his larger one. His touch sent warmth flowing into every corner of her body. Such a basic gesture, taking the hand of another human being. Why did the simple contact make her feel so sad, so lonely? Why did it make her feel as if he really cared?
Jacob Anderson, a friend? Her mind couldn’t comprehend such a possibility existing. This man didn’t have friends like her. He hobnobbed with CEOs of international corporations, with senators, even presidents. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Can’t a friend—”
“We’re not friends.” She pulled her hand from his. “We didn’t even know one another four hours ago.”
“Then what are we?”
She stared at his shadowed features, afraid to even guess what he meant. “We’re business associates. I hope.”
“Business associates can be friends. My best friend is...was my business partner.”
The pain in his voice probably wouldn’t be obvious to a casual listener. But Claire was intimately familiar with men who hide inner pain, from twenty-eight years of dealing with two cowboy brothers. Suddenly it seemed as if she’d known the man occupying the Jeep’s other bucket seat all her life.
But that was absurd. She’d met him less than four hours ago.
So why did she have to fight the urge to reach across and touch the hand she’d just tossed away?
She cleared her throat instead. “You knew Alan Townsend a long time, didn’t you?”
“He was my best friend since we were boys, riding like demons from hell across the hills of our ranches. He was the only one I could trust.” His face looked like granite in the dim light “Now do you see why I’m in the market for a friend?”
“What I don’t understand is why you’d want me. I haven’t exactly been at my best tonight. I screamed at you. I nearly killed you when I fell on you. I look like I’ve been in a catfight. I—”
“You didn’t complain one time about being stuck. And you helped me catch my breath after you knocked me down.” He smiled. “Even though you’d just called me a rude, arrogant son of a cross-eyed snake.”
“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” She frowned. “You must have hundreds of friends, with all the parties you attend, the charities you sponsor, the places you go.”
“I have hundreds of acquaintances. There’s a difference.”
Claire acknowledged that with a reluctant shrug. She knew the difference. Since moving to Denver, the only people she called friends were at work, and she rarely did anything with them socially. They all had families they went home to.
“Now back to my original question—why do you need money for a baby?”
“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
“No.”
“You’re like a dog with a fresh bone.”
“Please...”
“Oh, all right.” Staring out the windshield, she gave him a terse outline of her condition, concluding, “It’s not life threatening, just fertility threatening.”
“So how is money going to help?”
Her cheeks stung at the intimate conversation, but she replied, “In vitro fertilization is very expensive.”
“In vitro? You’re going to have a test-tube baby?”
“What other choice do I have?”
Jake was silent for a moment before asking, “You can have children now, right?”
“My doctor said the probability now was good, but I’d better do it soon.” She glared at him. “There, have I satisfied your morbid curiosity? Can I go in now?”
Jake searched her defiant eyes, marveling at how much he wanted to shock her with the crazy idea that had been playing around his mind for the past hour, but had just taken hold. This whole situation had Kismet written all over it—in capital letters with a double underline. His realization that he needed an heir before it was too late, Claire’s need to have a baby and her wanting to work for him all combined to slap him across the face like the fabled hand of fate.
He had the same feeling he always had right before he made his most lucrative investments. It just felt right. But he had one cardinal rule about any new venture—never go in blind. He never discussed a new project with anyone until he had all the facts, until he’d weighed the pros and cons and thought through every possibility for failure. He wasn’t about to start now. If he did, she’d call him a lunatic—and she just might be right.
He reached in the back seat for an umbrella. She held out her hand to take it, but instead of giving it to her, he opened his door and swung out. Unfurling the umbrella, he ran around to open her door.
“Are you sure you’re not a cowboy?” she asked irritably as she climbed down.
“Why?”
“I do have two arms and legs, you know. I can open car doors and walk all by myself.”
“But you don’t have an umbrella. And this is the only one I have with me.” He placed a hand at her waist to keep her close under the protection of the umbrella. The slight widening of her eyes was his only clue that she felt the same jolt of awareness that stabbed through him. His eyes fell to her lips as her tongue made a nervous circuit. He stifled a groan. “Come on.”
Safely under her porch a wet moment later, he watched as she dug out keys attached to a red-sequined heart. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven-thirty.”
She turned to face him. “I never said I’d go.”
He studied her tight face for a moment. “Well, if you don’t want a job...”
She heaved a disgusted sigh. “You don’t play nice, do you? Okay, I’ll go. What should I wear?”
“It’s formal.” He heard a faint groan. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” she grumbled. “Seven-thirty. Tomorrow. Formal. Can’t wait.”
“See you then.”
She fitted a key in the door, then stepped inside and turned to shut it. Hesitating, she said softly, reluctantly, “Thanks for the ride home. And for breaking my fall in the elevator. And for listening to me.”
He leaned forward slightly, then stopped himself. “Every bit of it was my pleasure, I assure you.”
“Good night, then.”
She shut the door quickly as if afraid he might try to kiss her. He stared blindly at the peephole as the image burned into his brain.
What would she taste like? Sweet and dry, or hot and wet? He couldn’t wait to find out. Smiling at the thought, Jake sprinted back to his Jeep. Her downstairs lights had already come on, so he started the engine.
As he pulled away, he realized that for the first time in years, he was looking forward to tomorrow. He had a lot to do.
Buzzzzzssstttt. Buzzzzzssstttt.
Claire’s eyes popped open. What was that?
Sunlight streaming in the window made her spring upright in bed and snap around to the bedside clock. Eleven twenty-two. She was late for work!
She had one foot on the floor before remembering she’d called Mr. Whitaker at home last night and taken a sick day today.
That memory triggered others. The doctor’s time bomb. The elevator. Jacob Anderson.
Claire pushed her heavy hair back from her face. Surely that was all a bizarre nightmare.
Buzzzzzssstttt.
Oh, the doorbell must’ve been what woke her. Who’d be ringing her doorbell on a Friday morning? A salesperson? A religious group canvassing for converts?
Buuzzzssstttt. Butzzzzsssmt.
Whoever was down there wasn’t giving up. She pulled on a pair of old sweatpants under the oversize T-shirt she slept in, then swept the brush through her hair a couple of times and made her way downstairs.
A glance through the peephole showed a redheaded young man huddling in a bright green jacket that had “Denver Express” printed across the front. A courier company. Probably delivering something from one of her clients—though it wasn’t tax time, not even the end of the quarter.
And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2) Page 3
