by Meier, Susan
He took the soup and meds from Maurice who winced. “You should give her a raise or a bonus or something so she can get into a building with an elevator.”
“I tried. She told me I was buying her off.”
Maurice’s eyebrows rose.
“Trust me. She’s an odd, odd woman. And if you’re smart you won’t try to figure her out.”
Maurice chuckled and left. Tucker opened the soup which had cooled during transport. He took that, a spoon, the flu meds and the pain reliever back down the hall to her room. She lay sprawled across the bed, exactly as he had left her.
He marched to the bed. “Come on, now,” he said using his outside voice in the hope of waking her. “We can’t let you get dehydrated.”
She didn’t even stir.
He placed the soup and meds on her bedside table, sat on her bed and put his hand to her shoulder, then drew it back as if it had stung him. The softness of her skin always seemed to do him in. But he’d made his decisions. A man who couldn’t talk about his past couldn’t give a woman like Olivia the kind of love she needed.
But he glanced at her face, her eyelashes fanning against cheeks red with fever, her usually smiling lips a straight line and he wanted to touch her. To help her. He had to do this.
He slid his hand to her shoulder again. “Hey, sick person. I’m here to help you.”
The warmth of her fever heated his fingers and hit him right in the heart. She needed him. It almost physically hurt to think of her alone and so sick she could barely blink. So he might as well admit it and do what he’d stayed here to do.
He slid farther onto the bed, put his hands beneath her shoulders and lifted her into a sort of sitting position, leaning against him.
“What do you want first? Soup? Pain meds? Flu meds?”
“Flu meds.”
He opened the package and filled the little cup to the appropriate measuring point. But by the time he turned to give it to her she was asleep again. He put the cup to her lips and nudged until she woke and drank. She also took a few sips of juice, but that was it.
He left the room thinking he should go back to the office now. There was nothing else he could do for her. She was fine—safe in her bed—but alone.
The emptiness of being alone rose up in him. Having no one who cared when he was sick. Having no one who really knew him, really cared about him. He couldn’t leave her with nothing but the ringing silence of this apartment to keep her company.
With a sigh, he returned to the red sofa, took off his jacket, loosened his tie and turned on the TV again.
Two hours later she staggered into the living room, a blanket wrapped around her.
He shot off the sofa. “Miss Prentiss! Are you sure it’s wise for you to be out of bed?”
She made her way over to him. “At this point I’m not entirely sure I’m going to live.” She sat on the sofa. “The only reason I have strength enough to get out of bed is the medicine you gave me. Thank you for that, by the way.”
He slowly lowered himself beside her. “You’re welcome.”
“And for coming over.”
“I couldn’t stand to think of you alone and sick.”
She glanced at him. Her eyes told him that she remembered the things he’d said on the trip to Italy, about being a foster child, a baby left in a church in only a blue blanket. A little boy who had once gotten a Christmas gift and that had come at the expense of clothes he’d needed.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I get it.”
Discomfort turned his muscles to stone. He hated that she felt sorry for him. He could not handle pity. And maybe that’s why talking to her had scared him more than thoughts of seducing her? People who knew his past might respect him for how he’d changed his life, but deep down inside most people also pitied his humble beginnings. That’s why he’d choked on the words and couldn’t tell her any more than he already had. He didn’t want to be pitied. Especially not by her.
He rose from the sofa and grabbed his suit jacket. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it. Are you well enough for me to go back to the office?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I had Maurice get you chicken soup from a deli. You should eat that and drink plenty of fluids.”
She nodded.
He hesitated. With the threat of discussing his past gone, it again felt wrong to leave. She appeared to be well. At least well enough that he knew she could take care of herself, but it just didn’t feel right leaving her.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and play cards or something?”
She laughed. “You play cards?”
“I do all kinds of normal things.”
“I have always suspected as much.”
He shook his head. “Even sick you’re a smart-ass.”
“You’re the boss. You could have gotten rid of me on day one.”
Her slightly glassy blue eyes connected with his and his heart turned around in his chest, like a little kid doing somersaults in a swimming pool.
He liked her so much.
He didn’t just think she was pretty or had potential. He liked her. That was why he didn’t get rid of her, always felt different around her, more alive.
But he didn’t share his past with anyone. Ever. He’d tried with her and only ended up evoking her pity.
He stuffed his cell phone in his pocket. “I’ll see you when you’re better.” He walked to the door, but faced her again. “You should call HR tomorrow morning if you’re not coming in. They like to keep track of things like that.”
He walked out of her apartment, closed the door behind him and squeezed his eyes shut.
He had been perfectly fine, perfectly happy until she’d come into his life. Now he yearned for things he couldn’t have...things he’d long ago adjusted to never having.
He wished with every fiber in his being that Betsy could get better so Olivia could return to Accounting and maybe, just maybe, he could forget all this.
* * *
A week after her four-day flu, Vivi sat in Tucker’s office, straight as an arrow.
Though he’d very sweetly cared for her the first day she was sick, when she’d recovered, she’d returned to a silent workplace, a venue for nothing but labor. He wouldn’t accept her thanks for caring for her. He didn’t want to discuss it. He didn’t look at her. Gave her assignments piecemeal, as Mrs. Martin had said he would, and absolutely didn’t give any explanations for anything.
She couldn’t even measure the disappointment. But she got the message. He didn’t want any misunderstanding. He’d cared for her because she was alone. He knew what it was like to be alone, and didn’t want to see anybody suffer that fate, but he did not like her.
So why the hell did she continue to like him more and more?
In the silence of his enormous office, the ring of his phone sounded like a bomb going off.
He glanced up at her. “Very few people have this private number. I have to take this.”
She nodded and sat back.
He picked up the phone. “Tucker Engle.”
“Oh, Tucker!”
“Constanzo? What’s up?”
“It’s Antonio. He is, as you say, freaking out.”
“Did you tell him you’re his dad?”
“No! He’s just going nuts about the show.”
He glanced at Olivia. “Miss Prentiss is here with me. I’m going to put you on speaker.”
He hit the button and Constanzo immediately said, “Vivi! You should be here. You calm him down.”
“You can calm him down, Constanzo.”
“I can’t.” The passion in his voice vibrated through the room.
Vivi laughed. “You can. You’re just freaking out, too. Take a breath, calm
down.”
“No, you take a plane, come to me. Help me.”
Tucker sat forward. “Actually, that’s a very good idea.”
Vivi’s gaze shot to him. Though she loved being in Italy and working with Antonio, after the way Tucker had behaved these past few weeks his suggestion that she leave felt like a kick out the door.
“I’ll have her on the plane in two hours.”
“Thank you, my dear friend Tucker!”
He disconnected the call and Vivi stared at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “You handle Antonio very well. It’s only good common sense to send you over there.”
“Antonio is a grown man. So is Constanzo. They could deal with this.”
He finally glanced up. “You think?” When she said nothing, he tossed his pen to his desk. “Once again, you underestimate your abilities.” He shook his head. “This deal is extremely important to me. Antonio has to be cool, calm and collected when we tell him Constanzo is his dad. You calm him down.”
Because she knew that was true, she said nothing.
“I know you’re playing it by ear here, but you really are good with people.”
After weeks of no conversation, his praise was like balm to her desperate soul. “Thanks.”
“But with everything going haywire, it looks like we can’t tell Antonio that Constanzo is his dad until the show is over.”
“You want to preserve the show?”
“You don’t? It’s the one solid thing Constanzo is doing for Antonio. Even if he’s angry after we tell him Constanzo is his dad, he’ll have the showing to look back on. Something that proves to him his dad believed in him. You can’t get a much stronger connection than that.”
“You’re right.”
“So you’re in Italy for the next two weeks, until the show opening. I’ll have the driver here in ten minutes. He’ll take you to your apartment to pack and you can be in the air in two hours as I promised.”
With that he went back to work.
Vivi slowly rose from her chair, her heart lodged in her throat. She turned away as tears filled her eyes. She really didn’t want to go to Italy without him.
She didn’t want to go anywhere without him. Do anything without him.
The horrible truth was...she loved him and he was sending her away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EAGER TO GET his office back to normal, without a wonderful woman sitting a few feet away, tempting him to try a relationship he knew couldn’t work, Tucker immediately called Mrs. Martin in Human Resources, requesting another accountant. In ten minutes, Ward Bancroft stood in front of him.
With dark hair and dressed in a black suit, black shirt and silver tie, the kid was a mini version of Tucker, without the green eyes. His eyes were a watered down whiskey-brown that reminded him of a weasel.
“So, Mr. Bancroft, are you ready to work?”
“Absolutely. You tell me what you need and I’ll have it for you in ten minutes.”
He eased forward on his chair. Even though he appreciated a bit of enthusiasm, he preferred dignity. “Some assignments require more attention than ten minutes.”
“Oh, absolutely! I’m sorry!” To Tucker’s horror he seemed to get even more enthusiastic. “You tell me what you need and I will do it in the best possible way.”
“Terrific.” He shuffled the papers on his desk until he found the background-information sheet he needed. “This company could potentially be a great project. But the financials look a little too good to be true.” He handed the sheet across the desk. “I want you to tear their annual statement apart, see what they’re hiding.”
He nearly snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”
He headed out of the office and Tucker said, “Close the door on your way out.”
“Absolutely,” he singsonged.
As the door closed behind him, Tucker rolled his eyes. But at least his office felt back to normal. No pretty blue-eyed strawberry blonde, tempting him to talk, to laugh, to like her.
He’d never wanted anything the way he wanted her. But they were wrong for each other. And it was her he was protecting from the pain that would result if they tried a relationship and it failed. She’d been through enough in her life without him putting her through something else.
By noon, the sounds of the silence of his office began to close in on him, but, luckily, he had a lunch out with Elias and Ricky to discuss the details of a new ad campaign created by the ad firm Tucker had hired.
Rick and Elias rose as he approached the table and so did the pretty blonde seated by Elias.
“Melinda Fornwalt, this is Tucker Engle.”
She smiled and shook his hand. Painted up the way Maria usually was, Melinda might be pretty but since working with Vivi he sort of liked women with less makeup. Or maybe natural beauty?
“So this is Tucker Engle? The guy who made you rich.”
Tucker held back a smile. Her voice and manners screamed socialite, somebody who lived the life of charities and theatre and loved it. He suspected Ricky had brought her on board to give the company the touch of class it was lacking.
“Yes and no. I paid to get controlling interest in their company but they were the ones with the idea. They made themselves rich.”
She sat and the men sat.
“Still, you’re quite the entrepreneur.”
He removed his napkin. “Not really. My forte is buying existing companies. I’m more like a renovator than a carpenter.”
She laughed. “Not just handsome and smart, you’re funny, too.”
His eyes narrowed. Was she coming on to him? She might be the kind of woman he typically dated, but for some reason or another, her flirting made him uneasy. No. Not uneasy. He didn’t like it. At all.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your position with the company.”
Elias cleared his throat. “She’s not really with the company. She’s with me.”
He almost said, “And you tolerate her flirting with other men?” But he stopped himself if only to keep the situation civil. Unfortunately, as quickly as he thought that, he also imagined Vivi rolling her eyes about Melinda dating Elias and flirting with Tucker. And being correct. The woman was after Elias’s money. That is, if she couldn’t catch a bigger fish while going out with Elias.
He caught Ricky’s gaze. “I’m guessing that means we won’t be discussing the ad campaign you received.”
Ricky shook his head as if to say he didn’t know what was going on, but Elias blanched. “We can still talk about it.”
“I never discuss business in front of people who don’t have a financial interest in the project.” He rose. “In fact, since we have to reschedule anyway, I think I’ll go back to my office.”
As soon as he was out on the street, he was sorry. Not only did he not want to go back to the overly keen Ward, but he was hungry. The scents of food beckoned but the one that caused him to stop came from the Chinese restaurant.
The last time he’d eaten Chinese, he’d been with Vivi’s family. It had been a strange lunch, but he kept remembering how embarrassed Vivi had been. If there was one thing Vivi wasn’t, it was a gold digger.
He shook his head. She was so determined to prove herself. So honest. So much fun. And that kiss in Italy had knocked him for a loop.
He didn’t want to miss her, but he did. And not because Ward Bancroft was hard to work with. Because he liked Vivi—Olivia.
Just remembering her telling him to call her Olivia, caused his heart to jolt. He liked who he was with her. He especially liked talking to her. Honestly talking to her. And he’d sent her thousands of miles away.
* * *
The grassy fields of Italy relaxed Vivi, but working with Patrice and Antonio invigor
ated her. Even though the pair argued constantly, Vivi always seemed to be able to see a compromise position. They got more work done in two days than Patrice and Antonio had managed in the two weeks she’d been gone.
After a fattening supper of homemade butternut squash ravioli and two hours playing rummy with Constanzo, she took a long, hot shower and shimmied into a pair of pajamas, ready for sleep.
But as she tucked the covers to her chin and closed her eyes, the company cell phone rang. Tucker had given it to her in the last seconds before she left the office to pack for her trip. He’d said he didn’t want to lose this deal and she was to call him if anything changed or if she needed help.
She didn’t need help...but maybe he needed her?
Or maybe he just missed her?
Her heart skipped a beat. Two days out of each other’s company and she’d missed him. Was it so unbelievable to think he might have missed her?
She grabbed the phone and said, “Hello.”
“I think my new assistant wants my life.”
Though his voice was serious and maybe even a tad desperate, she couldn’t help it. She laughed.
“The little snot even dresses like me.”
She sat up, made herself comfortable against the headboard. She could have taken him to task for not speaking to her in the weeks before Constanzo called her back to Italy. She could have reminded him he’d told her he didn’t want to get personal because he couldn’t be the man she wanted. She could have asked him if he really thought she could just drop her hurt feelings and talk to him now as if nothing had happened.
But she didn’t. His life had been difficult, and maybe she needed to cut him some slack, give him some time to work out how he felt.
“You always told me you didn’t care what I dressed like as long as I could do the job.”
“He does everything too fast.”
“And you’re afraid he’s missing things?”
“Absolutely.” He groaned. “That’s his word. Absolutely. I ask for a report, he says, absolutely. I ask for coffee, he says absolutely.”
