Vows

by Rochelle Alers

  In the brief seconds when their gazes met in Warren’s office she had detected a distrust in Joshua. He’d known that she lived in Santa Fe and worked for Grenville-Edwards, and he had followed her. Why?

  She covered her face with her hands. What she wanted to do was scream, scream out her fears, frustration, anger, and relief.

  At least she now knew the lying, sneaky, duplicitous, immoral snake was alive and breathing! And if their marriage was still valid she wouldn’t have to search him out in order to serve him with divorce papers.

  There came a soft tapping on the door, and her hands fell away from her face. Within seconds she had composed herself. She rose from the chair and took a deep breath.

  “Come in.”

  Joshua Kirkland stepped into her office and closed the door softly. His electric green eyes measured her reaction as she floated limply down to the chair, her fingers tightening noticeably on the armrests.

  “Hello, Vanessa.”

  She stood up again, unable to believe that he’d sauntered into her office and greeted her like it was something he did every day.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” She didn’t recognize her own voice because it was so low and breathless. Leaning against the door, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Get out!” she ordered before he could answer her query.

  His eyes hardened like cold stones, while a muscle twitched along his lean jaw. “Your boss already explained why I’m here.”

  “Get out of my office.” There was no mistaking the coldness in her command.

  He continued to stare at her, unblinking. “I’m leaving, but I want to caution you that no one is to know that we’re married.” His warning was issued in a quiet tone that froze her where she stood.

  Her ringless fingers tightened into fists. “That should be easy, because it’s true. We are not married.”

  His impassive expression did not change. “We are,” he insisted as if she hadn’t refuted it, “and we’ll remain married until the end.”

  She moved away from the desk, took a few steps toward him, then stopped. “Until the end of what?”

  Joshua stared at the woman he had fallen in love with, the woman he still loved beyond description. He wanted to go to her, hold her close, and bare the secrets he was sworn to hide from her.

  For the second time he had promised his superiors that he would give them what they wanted: the person at Grenville-Edwards Aerospace passing classified military data and their missing two million dollars.

  “Until the end of our lives,” he said instead. Without giving her the opportunity to come back at him, he opened the door and walked out of her office.

  Chapter 18

  Vanessa stared at the door, struggling to control her runaway pulse. The man who had haunted her dreams was no apparition, but flesh and blood. His image had plagued her dreams—for the first time on the anniversary of their meeting in Mexico—and continued over the past two months. It was as if his spirit had called out and connected with hers while she slept.

  She’d left Mexico, had successfully purged the memory of Joshua Kirkland and all that she’d shared with him, and focused all of her energies on her career and decorating her home. She joined her coworkers in many of their after-work social mixers, and dated several men she met at the building’s health spa.

  Joshua Kirkland had come into her life for a second time, but now she was better prepared. There would be no seduction, and she would make certain that there would be no marriage.

  Returning to her desk, she picked up the telephone and dialed the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist answered with the familiar, “GEA.” There was a slight pause before she continued. “Good morning, Vanessa.”

  “Good morning, Anne. I want you to call everyone in Finance and have them meet me in Preston’s office at eleven.”

  “Consider it done.”

  She replaced the receiver in its cradle, then picked it up again. Pressing a button for an outside line, she secured the number of St. Mary’s Memorial Hospital and was connected to Preston Richards’s room. The accident-prone accountant’s voice was soft and slurred from the effects of a painkiller, and she ended the call in two minutes, promising Preston that she would come to see him during afternoon visiting hours.

  Vanessa sat at a conference table in an alcove in Preston Richards’s office with the four men and three women who made up the finance unit.

  “I want to thank all of you for your promptness,” she said, greeting them with a warm smile. “Warren has asked me to fill in for Preston until his return.” She paused, watching the reactions on the faces of those sitting around the table. It was only a pulse beat, but she saw a myriad of expressions from shock to smug amusement.

  “How long do you expect Preston to be out?” questioned Frank Stevenson.

  “He’ll be out for the entire summer.” She studied Frank as a frown furrowed his lined forehead. The last time Preston had gone out on a medical leave he had assumed the CFO’s workload.

  “I assume you’ll be doing Preston’s work?”

  Vanessa registered his passive hostility immediately. “Warren has appointed me as Acting CFO,” she responded diplomatically. She knew the overzealous Frank would attempt to challenge her authority, but never Warren’s.

  Giving him a direct stare, she continued. “To ensure a smooth transition I will continue to handle the sub-contract budgets.”

  “Are you going to be able to manage both?” Shane questioned.

  “Not efficiently,” she replied honestly. “That’s why I called this meeting. Shane, you’ll assist me with contracts. Frank, you’ll be responsible for direct supervision of everyone in our unit except George.”

  George Fender, along with Frank and Vanessa, was an assistant to the Chief Financial Officer, but he preferred to work alone. He made it a practice to lock himself in his office when he arrived, and did not emerge unless it was for a meeting or to go home. His work was accurate, his reports flawless. He had refused the position as Chief Financial Officer when the position had become available.

  Vanessa’s gaze swept around the table. “Instead of meeting monthly, we’ll meet in this office every other Monday at eight. I’ll need your vacation schedules, so I’ll know how much to order for breakfast. I expect everyone to be on time and prepared to give an update on their projects. Any questions?”

  George shook his head. “None from me.”

  She stood up and everyone rose with her. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Everyone filed leisurely out of the office, talking softly to one another. Only Shane remained.

  Bracing a hip against the edge of the table, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Vanessa. “Warren’s asking a lot from you.”

  She gave him a questioning look. “Did you say the same thing to Frank when he filled in for Preston last year?”

  A slight flush crept up the young accountant’s neck and spread to his hairline. “It has nothing to do with you being a woman.”

  Arching a delicate eyebrow, she glanced up at him from under her lashes. “Who mentioned gender?”

  He glanced down at the floor. “Touché, Vanessa,” he countered softly before returning and capturing her gaze. “I’m just concerned that you’ll be taking on too much.”

  “It’s only for a couple of months, and what I can’t handle will be picked up by you and George.”

  “You know George and I don’t work well together.”

  “Stop whining, Shane,” she admonished in a soft tone. “George knows more than all of us collectively.”

  “He’s paranoid,” he mumbled.

  “And Preston couldn’t have picked a worse time of the year to go out on leave, because we’re down one person and we’ll have to contend with vacations. We’ll do what we can, and if we can’t finish during our normal workday, then I’ll authorize and approve compensatory time for anyone who wants it.”

  He managed to look apologetic. “I’m willing to p
ut in the extra time if you need me.”

  Vanessa gave the bookish Shane Sumners a gentle smile. “Thanks. It’s comforting to know I can depend on you.” He winked at her, then turned and walked out of the office.

  She let out an audible sigh, shaking her head. She did not envy Preston’s position as a department head. Not only was he responsible for a multi-billion-dollar budget, but he also had to contend with the various personalities and unpredictable mood swings of his subordinates. The old adage You pay the cost to be the boss elicited a smile from her. One thing she didn’t want to be was the boss. At least not at GEA.

  Glancing around Preston’s office, she noted the systematic clutter. Bound reports were stacked in corners, and binders filled with financial statements covered every surface of his large desk. The only unencumbered space was a workstation claiming a computer and printer. The inside joke was that gadget-oriented Preston Richards was traumatized whenever he switched on a computer. He preferred to make manual entries on analysis sheets before he gave them to Shane to input them into the computer.

  She returned to her own office and began mapping out what she needed to do to put her career and her private life in perspective. Drawing a line down the middle of a legal pad, she wrote down GEA and VB at the top. Under the column with her initials she listed: call lawyer—DIVORCE!!

  * * *

  Joshua sat in the office he’d been assigned for his tenure at GEA, staring out the window. The Santa Fe sky was cloud-free and a startling, pale blue. Rugged mountain peaks shimmered in the distance, and he was awed by the natural beauty of the rugged landscape. He now realized why Vanessa had not wanted to leave Santa Fe.

  What she did not know was that he’d spent the last two months following her before making his presence known earlier that morning. Seeing her emerge from a popular downtown Santa Fe restaurant for the first time in almost a year had not prepared him for the turbulent emotions sweeping over his body like the rushing waters of a typhoon. What had shocked him more than seeing her mesmerizing smile was watching Vanessa press her lithe body against that of a tall man who couldn’t take his gaze from her beautiful face.

  He’d sat in the leased car, numbed, watching another man embrace his wife, watching as she smiled seductively at her date, and watching them disappear into the dark confines of a late model car and drive away.

  Closing his eyes, he still could see the delicate bones that made up her fragile face, the sensual shape of her full lower lip, the natural, glossy blackness of the thick hair that she now wore in a more sophisticated style than the one she had affected in Mexico. It was shorter, the heavy strands straightened and blown out until blunt ends fell in perfect precision around the nape of her long, graceful neck.

  When he had stepped into her office, the familiar scent of her perfume brought back vivid memories of their passionate love-making. In that brief moment he’d relived the texture and taste of her velvety skin when his fingers sculpted the supple lines of her body and his tongue had journeyed from her lips to the soles of her feet. He had come to know every inch of her body and revel in the pleasure he derived from her uninhibited responses whenever they had shared a bed and their bodies.

  Opening his eyes, he continued to stare out the window, unseeing. He had spent almost a month in the hospital after the attempt on his life, then waited another nine months under house arrest before his activities in Mexico were reviewed by the Pentagon. The overwhelming success of Operation MESA overrode his being court-martialed, and he agreed to undertake the same mission: identify the person at Grenville-Edwards selling classified military components and recover the Defense Department’s two million dollars.

  His guise was that of a corporate efficiency expert, evaluating Grenville-Edwards Aerospace’s position for a possible merger with another aerospace company in the northwest. This time he had been given sixty days to complete his mission instead of ten.

  American officials had conducted an in-depth background investigation on Pablo Mendoza and had come up with nothing that might possibly connect the Oaxaca merchant to any subversive activities in Central America; it had also become apparent that Vanessa Blanchard had not made contact with a foreign agent during her trip to Mexico.

  Joshua wanted to believe that his wife was not responsible for passing the classified data or for the missing monies, but his superiors did not want his opinion; they wanted the traitor and their money.

  Turning away from the window, he glanced down at the vacation schedule on his desk, his gaze sweeping quickly over the names and dates. Vanessa had not indicated that she was taking a vacation during the months of July and August, and a satisfied smile softened his firm mouth. She would be available to him for the next sixty days.

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced up to find a petite blond woman standing in the doorway to his office. He recognized her immediately as Warren McDonald’s private secretary.

  Rising to his feet, he inclined his head. “Please come in.”

  Jenna Grant floated into the room with a controlled, exaggerated rolling of her narrow hips. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she smiled up at Joshua. “Warren wanted me to ask you if you needed anything. Supplies,” she added when Joshua arched a questioning pale eyebrow.

  “I could use a few hangers. There weren’t any in the closet.”

  Jenna glanced at the suit jacket he had draped over the back of a chair before her gaze roamed leisurely over his stark white shirt tucked into the waistband of his tailored trousers. “Hangers, and what else?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down at the woman. Jenna Grant was deceptively beautiful. Her naturally blond hair was cut in a flattering style in which a flaxen wave fell over her forehead and partially concealed one of her brilliant emerald green eyes. He knew most of her face had been surgically reconstructed after a head-on automobile accident had mangled her features three years before. He’d learned more than he wanted to know about GEA employees after reading their personnel histories.

  “That’s all I can come up with at this time,” he replied.

  “Warren said that I should handle your correspondence until he assigns someone to you for your exclusive use.”

  “How would you prefer that I give you my correspondence—on tape, or direct dictation?”

  Jenna smiled, revealing a mouth filled with dazzling porcelain crowns. “Direct dictation.”

  He nodded again. “I’ll check with Warren on how we’ll divide your time.”

  “Would you want me to order lunch for you?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll pick up something from the building cafeteria.”

  “They deliver,” Jenna informed him.

  “That’s all right.” He wanted to get out of the office and observe as much of the day-to-day activities of GEA’s administrative staff as he could. He wanted to match faces with names and job titles.

  Jenna gestured to the workstation positioned to the left of his desk. “You’ll need your own password if you want to log on to our computer system. Once you choose one you should give it to me for our master log.”

  “It’s VOWS. V-O-W-S,” he spelled slowly when she stared at him with a blank expression.

  Jenna repeated it to herself, then asked, “As in marriage vows?”

  Joshua’s eyes paled. “Precisely.” The single word reverberated throughout the space like the crack of a rifle. He stared at Jenna until she dropped her gaze, then turned his back.

  Staring at the width of his broad shoulders and slim waist, Jenna realized that he had dismissed her without a word. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned and walked out of his office.

  This was only the second time that she had come face-to-face with Joshua Kirkland, and what she had observed and admired the first time reinforced the promise she’d made to herself: she would marry before the end of the year. She had recently celebrated her thirty-fifth birthday, and while she viewed all single men as potential husbands
there were but a select few that she seriously considered pursuing. Joshua Kirkland had become one of the few.

  An expression of amusement softened Joshua’s features as he turned back and stared at the empty doorway. The company rumor mill was filled with gossip about Jenna Grant’s flirtatious behavior. If she had actually been flirting with him it was subtle. Charmingly subtle.

  Chapter 19

  Vanessa walked slowly down a corridor of St. Mary’s Memorial Hospital’s fourth floor, searching for Preston’s room in the wing designated for orthopedic cases. Finding the room number, she glanced inside. Preston lay on one of the two beds, both his legs elevated by a hoist.

  “Can I get a dance?” she teased, making her way into the room.

  Preston Richards’s bruised and swollen face split with a wide grin. “Get my shoes and I’m all yours.”

  Sitting down on a chair beside the bed, she grasped his hand. Preston was forty-eight, but appeared years younger. He was a small man, standing only five-foot six and weighing less than one hundred thirty pounds, but what he lacked in girth and height he compensated for with his mathematical aptitude. Vanessa had known him to do complicated equations in his head. “How are you feeling?”

  Preston ran a free hand over his straight, dark brown hair, frowning. “I’d feel a helluva lot better if I could get out of this place and get back to work.”

  “How long do they plan to keep you?”

  “The doctor who set my legs said I should be out in a week. But there’s talk about me having to go to a rehab center for physical therapy.”

  Vanessa’s dark eyes met Preston’s equally dark ones. “Did Warren talk to you?”

  Preston shook his head. “Each time he called I wasn’t able to talk to him. Why do you ask?”

  She didn’t want to be the one to tell Preston that he wasn’t expected to come back to work until after Labor Day, but she wasn’t allowed an option. She had to find out what he was working on.