Beauty and Her Boss

by Jennifer Faye

  “I didn’t know.” It’d been a very long time since he was in a public library. “My mother used to take me to the library when I was very young. I remember they had reading time where all the kids sat around in a circle and they read a story to us. I think that’s when I got the acting bug. I’d listen to the librarian use different voices for the various characters and it struck a chord in me.”

  Gabrielle’s smile returned and lit up the room. “As a librarian, that’s the best thing I could hear. I love when we are able to make a difference in someone’s life, big or small.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you’d like me to do a fund-raiser for your library.”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. The library is what is close to my heart. You need to find what’s closest to yours.”

  He took a second to think of what charity he’d most like to help and the answer immediately came to him.

  “You’ve thought of something. What is it?” She stared at him expectantly.

  “Breast-cancer research. If I were going to have a fund-raiser, that’s what I would want it to be for.”

  “Why?” she asked, curiosity ringing from her gaze.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t going to get in to this. Not with her. Not with anyone. It was too painful and still too fresh in his mind.

  After a few moments, Gabrielle asked, “Will you at least consider the idea?”

  It would be more efficient and less hassle to just write a hefty check, which he did every year in memory of his mother. But Gabrielle seemed to have her heart set on this. Perhaps if he didn’t readily dismiss the idea, with time she’d forget about it.

  “I’ll think about it.” When a smile reappeared on her face, he said, “But don’t get your hopes up.”

  She attempted to subdue her smile, but there was still a remnant of it lighting up her eyes as she placed some papers on his desk. Those eyes were captivating. They were gray, or was it green? Honestly, they seemed to change color. And they had gold specks in them. They were simply stunning, just like Gabrielle.

  And then as he realized he was staring, Deacon turned away. “I’ll get these back to you by morning.”

  He gazed out the window at the cloudless sky until he heard the clicking of her heels as she walked away. It was then he realized he’d forgotten to tell her something.

  He turned around but she was out of sight. He was going to tell her not to enter this part of the house again—that it was out of bounds. But something told him she would have just ignored him anyway.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE NEXT MORNING Deacon couldn’t concentrate.

  He should be working, if he was ever to get his fledgling company firmly ensconced in the movie business. He’d made a lot of inroads so far. The legal documents were all signed and filed with the appropriate agencies. Financial business accounts were opened. Sunsprite Productions was at last ready to do business.

  In front of him sat a stack of proposed movie scripts to read. However, every time he sat down, his mind would venture back to Gabrielle. Why had he agreed to keep the door unlocked? To give her access to his space?

  He’d avoided the library like the plague and, so far, she hadn’t returned to his office. The way she’d looked at him—well, it was different than others. She hadn’t shuddered. And she hadn’t turned away. If anything, she’d been curious. In fact, she’d even stepped closer to him. What was he to make of that?

  No one who’d come to see him in the hospital, people who were supposed to be his friends, had been able to look him in the eye. Most had hovered at the doorway, unwilling to come any closer. But not Gabrielle. She was different. And his curiosity about her kept mounting.

  He had to wonder why her aunt had found it necessary to use her last breath to tell him to take care of her niece. He had to be missing something. Gabrielle Dupré was quite capable of taking care of herself.

  She hit things straight on and treaded where others feared to go. And she was smart, as she’d demonstrated by coming up with that idea to improve his public image—though he doubted it would work. He needed to tell Gabrielle that he wasn’t going to take her up on the offer; he just hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet. It wasn’t like he had to worry about letting her down. Gabrielle was no damsel in distress. She was sharp and would always land on her feet. Deacon wondered if her father knew how lucky he was to have her by his side.

  He halted his train of thought. Listing all of her positive qualities was doing him no favors. No matter how much she intrigued him, nothing could ever come of it.

  Because there was a look in her eyes, one that was undeniable. She looked at him with anger. She blamed him for her aunt’s death. And for all he knew, she might be right.

  Feeling the walls closing in around him, Deacon made his way down to the rose garden. It was the one place where he found some solace. With the gentle scent of the roses that reminded him of his mother and the sea breeze that conjured up memories of sailing, his muscles relaxed. It was here that the pulsing pain in his temples eased.

  He moved about the garden. His doctor and physical therapist had told him to make sure to get plenty of movement as that would help heal the injury to his leg caused by the crash. He wasn’t about to venture outside the estate gates. He knew the press would soon catch up to him. And then the probing questions would begin.

  And so he spent time here in the spacious rose garden. He hadn’t spared any expense creating this retreat. The garden ran almost to the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. Wanting a wide-open feel, he’d declined building a wall around the garden. He used to think that this garden was a little piece of heaven on earth.

  Deacon took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Out here he could momentarily forget the guilt that dogged him. Out here, he could pretend there wasn’t the most amazing yet unobtainable woman working for him. For just a few precious moments, his problems didn’t feel so overwhelming.

  He followed the meandering brick path to the far edge of the garden. He paused to prune a dying purple rose from a newly planted bush. He’d surprised himself by finding that he didn’t mind gardening. In fact, he found the whole process relaxing. Who’d have ever guessed that?

  A glint of bright light caught his eye. He glanced around, finding an idle speedboat bobbing in the swells not far off the shoreline. The light must have been a reflection. It wasn’t unusual for the water to be filled with boats on these beautiful sunny days. And today, with the brilliant sunrise, it wasn’t surprising that people were out enjoying the warm air and the colorful sky.

  He didn’t give the boat any further attention as he turned back to his task. He continued to trim the dead blooms from the bush when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Was it animal? Or human?

  Deacon swung around. He didn’t see anything. Perhaps it was just his exhaustion catching up to him. With a shake of his head, he returned to his task.

  “Good morning.”

  The sound of Gabrielle’s voice startled him. He turned with a jerk. “You shouldn’t be here.” Did she have to invade every part of his life? Frustration churned within him. “Go!”

  Her eyes widened. “I...I’m sorry.”

  She stepped back. Her foot must have struck the edge of a brick because the next thing he knew, her arms were flailing about and then she was falling. He started toward her, but he was too far away to catch her. And down she went. Straight into a rosebush.

  Deacon immediately regretted his harsh words. He didn’t mean to scare her. He inwardly groaned as he rushed over to her.

  The first thing he spotted was blood. Little droplets of blood dotting her arms and legs from the thorny vines. And it was all his fault. Since when had he become such a growling old bear—so much like the father that he swore he would never turn into. And yet it had happened...

  Take care of G
abrielle. There it was again. Her aunt’s last dying wish. He was certainly doing a dismal job of it.

  As he drew near her, he watched as Gabrielle struggled to sit up. Her movements only succeeded in making the situation worse and a pained moan crossed her lips.

  “Don’t move,” he said, coming to a stop next to her.

  This was one of the rosebushes he hadn’t gotten to. The limbs were long and unruly. He pulled the shears from his back pocket and hastily cut the bush. He worked diligently to free her.

  And then he had her in his arms. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She sniffled but she refused to give in to the pain. Her strength impressed Deacon. He was used to women who lashed out or gave in to the tears. Gabrielle was stoic—or perhaps stubborn fit her better.

  He started toward the house with her in his arms.

  “I can walk,” she insisted.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “Put me down.” There was steely strength in her voice and the unshed tears were now gone.

  He hesitated, not wanting to put her down. To his detriment, he liked holding her close. She was light and curvy.

  And she smelled like strawberries. His gaze lowered to her lips. They were berry-pink and just right for the picking. He forgot about their awkward circumstances and the fact that he hadn’t shaved or had a haircut in months.

  In that moment, all he wanted to do was pull her closer and press his mouth to hers. Her lips were full and shimmered with lip gloss. It had been so very long since he’d been with a woman—

  “Now.” Her voice cut through his wayward thoughts.

  When his gaze rose up to meet her eyes, she stared up at him with determination. Did she know where his thoughts had drifted? He hoped not. Having her know that he was attracted to her would just make this uncomfortable arrangement unbearable. He lowered her feet to the ground.

  “Come with me.” This time he was the one issuing orders and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  He led the way into the darkened house. He knew that in its day the house was impressive, but now the blinds were lowered and dust covered most everything. But it didn’t matter to him. He never spent time on the first floor. He stuck to his suite of rooms. And that’s where he led Gabrielle.

  Into the expansive foyer with its white marble floor and large crystal chandelier. He turned toward the sweeping staircase that curved as it led to the second floor.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To get you cleaned and bandaged.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t trust him. That was fine. She had no reason to trust him. He wasn’t even sure he trusted himself now that he had a faulty memory and tormenting dreams. But this wasn’t about her trusting him. This was about her welfare and making sure she didn’t have any serious injuries.

  “You need someone to help you.” He turned to her at the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t reach the cuts on your back. And as fate would have it, today is Mrs. Kupps’s day off.”

  He started up the steps, hoping she would see reason and follow him. The very last thing he needed on his conscience was her being injured because of him and then getting an infection. He may have royally messed up the night of the accident and no matter how much he wanted to go back in time, it was impossible. However, right now he could help Gabrielle. If only she would allow him.

  At the top of the steps there were three hallways—one to the left, which was where his mother had had her suite of rooms, another hallway to the right, where the people he’d considered friends used to stay, and then the hallway straight back, which led to his suite of rooms and his office that overlooked the ocean.

  He stopped outside the last door. He hadn’t made his bed. He hadn’t straightened up in forever. And it hadn’t mattered to him for months. But now, it mattered. Now he was embarrassed for Gabrielle to see his inner sanctuary. Later tonight he would do some cleaning.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. “If you changed your mind, I can go.”

  “No. Nothing’s wrong.” And with that he swung open the door. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress her. That ship had sailed a long time ago. In fact, he’d lost any chance to impress her before they’d even met.

  The room was dark as the heavy drapes were drawn as they always were, but he knew his way around without bothering with a light. However, he realized that Gabrielle would have a problem, and he reluctantly switched on the overhead light.

  “Why is it so dark in here?” she asked. “You should open the curtains and let in the sun.”

  “I like it this way.”

  “Maybe the sun would give you a cheerier disposition.”

  Why did she want to go and change him? He didn’t want to be changed. This was now his life and he would live it however he chose. “My disposition is fine.”

  “Really? And you think it’s normal to go around scowling at people and barking out warnings for them to go away?”

  “I do not bark and I do not growl.” He turned on the bathroom light.

  “Apparently you don’t listen to yourself very often.”

  “You are—” he paused, thinking of the right word to describe her “—you are pushy and...”

  “And right about you.”

  He sighed. “You don’t know everything.”

  “But I do know that you’re going to turn down my offer to help you.”

  He arched an eyebrow and stared at her, finding that she was beautiful even with her hair all mussed up from the rosebush and cuts crisscrossing her arms. It was then that he recognized just how much trouble he was in. There was something about Gabrielle that got under his skin, that made him feel alive again. And made him want to be worthy of her affection.

  And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to fall for her—head over heels. And that couldn’t happen. She would be crazy to fall for him after the car accident. And he didn’t deserve to have love in his life—not that he was falling in love with her. He wouldn’t let that happen.

  But knowing that it was even a possibility had him worried. The best thing he could do for both of their sakes was to keep her around here for as little time as possible. Maybe he should accept Gabrielle’s offer to plan the fund-raiser. Not that he relished having more attention cast upon him, but he could shorten her time on the estate without arousing her suspicions. She would never know how she got to him.

  “What are you smiling about?” Gabrielle was eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Who, me? I don’t smile. Remember, I growl.”

  “Oh, I remember. But I saw a distinct smile on your face, so out with it.”

  What did he have by holding back? He’d strike the deal, set the timetable and soon his life would return to the way it used to be. Why did the thought of his quiet, lonely life no longer sound appealing?

  “I accept your offer,” he blurted out before he had an opportunity to change his mind.

  Her eyes widened. Today, they looked more blue than green. “You do?”

  He nodded. “How long do you need?”

  “A few months would be ideal.”

  Months? He was thinking in terms of weeks. “You’ll need to do it faster than that.”

  She thought about it. “How grand do you want to make it?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “Instead of say a grand ball, we could do a garden party.”

  “That might not be enough of a draw.”

  “Okay. Give me a little time and I’ll come up with some other ideas.”

  “Just don’t take too long. I’d like to do this in the next few weeks.”

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t give a person much room to work, do you?”

  “If you’re not up to the challenge—”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Now let’s
get you cleaned up.” He led her into the bathroom and set to work cleaning and medicating her injuries.

  He felt terrible that she’d been injured because of him. He would work harder in the future not to be so abrasive. He’d obviously been spending too much time alone.

  He stood in front of her as she sat on the black granite countertop. He’d just used a cloth to wash the wounds on her arms with soap and water. Now that they were rinsed off, he was gently patting them dry.

  As he stood there, he could sense her staring at him. He glanced up to say something, but when his gaze caught hers, he hesitated. And then her gaze lowered. Was she staring at his lips?

  CHAPTER SIX

  WAS THAT DESIRE reflected in her eyes?

  Deacon swallowed hard. Suddenly the walls seemed to close in around them and the temperature was rising...quickly. He should turn away because if she kept staring at him, he was going to start to think that she wanted him—almost as much as he wanted her.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” he said.

  “Do what?” Her voice carried a note of innocence.

  He inwardly groaned. “You know what.”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t ask.”

  Surely she couldn’t be that naive. Could she? “Look at me like—like you want me to kiss you.”

  She didn’t blush, nor did she look away. “Is that what you think I want? Or is that what you want?”

  Why did she have to insist on confusing matters? He was already confused enough for both of them. “Forget I said anything.”

  “How am I supposed to do that now that I know you’re thinking about kissing me?”

  “That’s not what I said.” He huffed in exasperation. “Turn around.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you have to question everything?”

  She shrugged. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t know that you want to kiss me.”