She begged off dinner with the family, telling Lena she had too much work to catch up on. Now, sitting cross-legged on her couch, glass of wine in hand, contemplating the letter, she regretted the decision. Dinner with Lena’s family meant good food and lots of loving strokes to the ego. This letter promised nothing but reopened wounds and pain. A short, bitter laugh burst from her throat. Right, Sadie, those wounds never healed.
In one fluid movement, she leaned forward, grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. Trembling fingers found the single sheet of paper inside.
Dear Ms. Martin:
My name is Grant Rogers and I think you may be my sister. I’ve tried to call you but I can’t work up the nerve. My mother is Dawn Martin Rogers.
I graduated from college last December and got a job doing medical research in Raleigh. I was packing up to move when I found an envelope in the attic. It had baby pictures with the name Sapphire Diamond written on the back. There were also papers from the Department of Social Services regarding the placement for adoption of a child by the same name. When I confronted my mother with these, she told me she’d had a baby very young and put it up for adoption. The fact that my real name is Granite and my sisters are named Ruby Jade and Emerald Pearl confirmed my initial suspicion.
I tried searching the adoption reunification sites but found nothing. When I did a Google search of “Sapphire Martin,” I got nothing. But a search of “S. Martin, Charleston” led me to an article about your company. There was a picture of you and you look very much like my mother.
I hope I’m not wrong. I hope I haven’t upset you. I don’t want anything but a chance to meet you. Or just talk. You can call or text me at...
It was signed Grant Rogers. Sadie let the paper fall to her lap and reached for the glass of wine. Sapphire, Granite, Ruby and Emerald. Dear sweet jelly beans in a bowl. Even as she laughed, tears mixed in.
* * *
THE PHONE RINGING at 7:00 a.m. would normally be considered a bad thing. Except when you are so ready to have work distract you from your life that you welcome Monday like a long-lost friend. Sadie had even contemplated the very expensive, and much-ignored, treadmill tucked away in the second bedroom. Her wine and jelly-bean binge after reading Grant’s letter warranted some sort of penance. But alas, someone needed her. Even a sick call would get her out of exercise and shut up her brain.
But it wasn’t a sick call. Wyatt Anderson’s impossibly sexy voice, its low baritone sweetened with a trace of Southern accent, oozed through the phone. Forgotten in her grieving was the near kiss after the dinner on Friday. How could she have forgotten? He had leaned in to kiss her. It wasn’t her idea. A delicious swirl of desire swept through her as that tidbit sank in. He was attracted to her, also. She shook her head. Didn’t matter.
He was having an emergency. A curl emergency.
“I wouldn’t bother you. I’m sorry. But she took me by surprise. And she looked so dejected when I told her I hadn’t learned how or even bought whatever it is I need. I didn’t know what to do. She keeps saying it’s okay, but it isn’t.”
“Oh, no. This is my fault, too. I meant to pick up a small curling iron last time I was at Wally World and give it to you.”
Julietta had bebopped up to Wyatt and asked him to do the curl like Sadie had promised to show him. And she’d never shown him. You know better than this. Always keep your promises. No matter how small. Her stomach felt like a bowling ball. “Okay,” she said. “Give me an address. I’ll swing by the store and grab one and be there as quick as I can.”
“Would you? Thank you. I’ll owe you. Whatever you want or need. I’ll owe you.”
She smiled at his relief and a part of her heart went gooey at his devotion to his niece. She plugged the address into her GPS as she clattered down the back stairs with Jack hot on her heels. The address Wyatt had given her wasn’t far from the West Ashley Walmart in an older neighborhood of neat brick ranch homes. It took her thirty minutes total.
His front door opened and she climbed from her car. She motioned for Jack to stay.
“He can come in or go in the backyard if he needs—it’s fenced.”
She turned at the sound of his voice. Dear sweet baby Jesus in the manger. Wyatt stood on the small porch, holding the screen door open. Wearing a pair of sweats dipping low on his hips and nothing else. She’d been right about those six-pack abs. And the amazing pecs. Made more amazing by the light dusting of brown hair across them and the line of hair down the center of those abs. And— She forced her eyes away and her mouth shut. It should be illegal for him to go shirtless without warning. Her thoughts were becoming completely inappropriate for this early on a Monday morning.
“Okay,” she said. Her voice sounded weak and she cleared her throat. “Come on, Jack.”
She used the time it took to get Jack into the backyard to snap out of it. Employee. We don’t drool over the employees, Sadie dear. Sexual harassment suits are not good for business. But her hormones weren’t listening. They were still squealing like fourteen-year-olds. She switched her focus. Julietta. The little girl she’d let down. That doused the flames.
She hesitated on the porch, peering in through the screen door. Wyatt had disappeared. She pulled open the screen and stepped in. Two walls of the room were lined with full bookshelves. A recliner with a side table and a lamp sat on a patterned rug in the corner. On the wall above the chair were several framed photographs. One was of Wyatt and a pretty blonde woman. He looked at least ten years younger. Sadie smiled. He looked better now. That seemed to happen with some men. The little lines and some life experience pushed good-looking to totally sexy.
“That’s Maddie,” he said from the doorway into the hall.
Sadie continued looking at the picture. Wyatt’s hand rested on Maddie’s shoulder. She thought of the letter she’d returned to her office desk. What would it have been like to have a brother? Sisters? Squaring her shoulders, she cleared her throat. “She was very pretty.” She handed the curling iron to him. “While you break into this packaging and plug it in, I’ll talk to Julietta. Where is she?”
“Last door on the left. I’ll get some scissors.” He turned the package over in his hands. “Or a saw.”
She went down the hall. At the end, the door was standing open and she caught a glimpse of a messily made queen-size bed. Wyatt’s bed. A thrill shot through her. What would it be like? Tangled in his sheets. Would they smell like him? She looked away and tapped on the closed door to her left.
“Julietta? It’s Sadie. May I come in?”
“Sure.”
The room was little-girl neat. Purples and blues and greens. Julietta sat on the floor, lacing up a pair of mismatched sneakers. The green shoe had yellow laces and the yellow shoe, green laces. She was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with one of the Van Gogh iris paintings on the front. Sadie suppressed a grin. She liked this kid’s style.
“Why are you here?” Julietta asked. She didn’t seem upset, just curious.
“Your uncle called me. I think I owe you an apology.”
Julietta looked up, her eyes serious. “About the curls?”
Sadie sat on the floor across from her. “Yes. I promised you I’d show him how to do it and I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Julietta tugged at a yellow shoelace. Her little shoulders shrugged, sending a dart of pain through Sadie. “It’s okay.”
“No. It isn’t okay. I said I’d do something and I didn’t. I was wrong. If you’ll let me, I’ll show him how right now. I brought a curling iron.”
Julietta didn’t move. Her hands still held the ends of the shoelaces. Sadie held her gaze even though she wanted to gather her up in a hug. She knew she was being evaluated. Kids who’d learned too young how drastically their worlds could change were especially sensitive to broken promises. Earning their trust was difficult. And Sadie,
who was still struggling to let herself trust in others, could barely stand the idea that she had let this girl down. No matter how trivial it seemed, she knew it was a big deal to Julietta. Could she be trusted again? After a long moment, Julietta smiled and hopped to her feet. “Okay.”
She followed Jules down the hall to the kitchen. Wyatt leaned against the counter, examining the curling iron. To get her eyes off his ass, she glanced around the room. Like the rest of the house, it was simple but homey. What looked like original pine cabinetry and white appliances. The dining room table was messy with books and papers but the rest was spotlessly clean. Test papers and art work made a mosaic on the fridge.
“You have to plug it in first,” Julietta said.
Wyatt held up the cord. “I did, little Miss Smarty-Pants. Now what?”
“You turn it on.”
Sadie covered her mouth to hide the smile at the exchange. Wyatt glanced at her and the light in his eyes brought a momentary burning of tears to her eyes. He loved this little girl. He loved the teasing.
“Is this right, Ms. Sadie?”
She moved to the counter to check the settings. “You’ve got it.”
“Now it has to get hot,” Julietta explained to Wyatt. “It takes a minute.”
“Oh. A minute. Well, in that case.” He turned to Sadie. “Coffee?”
“I’d love some.” Before she could specify black, he handed her a cup he’d already poured. She raised her eyebrows as she took a sip.
“I notice things,” he said. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth.
Oh, hell. He noticed things. Her heart kicked up a notch and she sipped more coffee, hoping to diffuse the warmth she felt flooding her cheeks. Julietta saved her.
“The light’s on! I think it’s ready!”
“Okay, then, let’s get this done,” Wyatt said. He scooped Julietta up and plopped her on the kitchen counter.
Standing beside him, even with Julietta vibrating with impatience between them, Sadie was uncomfortably aware of him. As a man. His hair was still sleep tousled and she so wanted to comb her fingers through those messy waves and smooth them into place. Why hadn’t she let him kiss her, again? Oh, yeah. You’re his boss.
“Okay, honey. Hold still now.”
She hoped he’d just stand there on his side, but no, he leaned close to watch. She could feel his heat and his arm brushing lightly against her shoulder. Ignore it. You have a burning hot chunk of metal you are putting near a small child’s face. Ignore him.
“How about we do two curls today? I’ll do the first one and your uncle can do the second. So we know he’s got it.”
Julietta nodded. “That sounds like the right thing to do.”
She demonstrated how to work the iron. She wasn’t very proficient with it. She’d spent more time learning how to tame her curls. But she did it without burning the child or her hair and successfully coached Wyatt through the second curl. She smiled at the sight of his concentration. It looked as though he was defusing a bomb or something. He was determined to get it right. To make Julietta happy.
“Thanks again,” he said as he stood on the sidewalk while a squealing Julietta went to get Jack from the backyard. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. I feel horrible for having forgotten a promise. I remember how much it hurt.”
His eyes turned to her. Thoughtful, speculative. “Had a lot of promises broken, then?”
“More than I can count,” she said. She snapped her mouth shut, mentally berating herself for the slip. Julietta came around the corner with Jack dancing happily in circles around her. “Okay, Jack, in the car. Julietta, you look incredibly stylish today. Thank you for accepting my apology.”
Julietta gave her a quick hug around the waist. “Thank you, Ms. Sadie! Bye, Jack!”
Sadie managed to get away without meeting Wyatt’s eyes again. He was right. He noticed things. Too many things.
* * *
SHE WAS LATE getting back to the office. Damn Highway 61 traffic. Josh and Molly were in the kitchen when she skidded through the back door. “Hi. Start the meeting without me. I’ll be right back.”
Molly caught her by the back of her shirt. “Whoa. Hold up there, Missy Miss. What are you doing, looking like something Jack dragged in?”
“I had an errand to run. Took a little longer than expected.”
“Uh-huh. And what kind of errand—” Molly made air quotes around the word “—did you have to run that’s making you blush like a schoolgirl?”
“I’m not blushing. And, hey, I’m the boss. Josh, start the meeting. I’ll be down in a few.” Their laughter followed her up the stairs.
* * *
AND THERE WAS Wyatt sitting at the conference table when she went back downstairs. Lounged back with casually contained power and watching her entrance. Do not blush. Do not blush. Her mind offered up the memory of him shirtless in the morning sun and the blush disobeyed her command. Her eyes swept the room and she took her seat. Sipped, okay, gulped down some coffee. She flipped open her notebook and began to list names of the guys who weren’t there. She’d have to call them later. Josh finished telling the group about the City Paper award party. She tipped her chin at him. Keep going.
She forgot about Wyatt and his maddening effect on her as she watched Josh lead the meeting. Part of her still thought of him as the nineteen-year-old kid who couldn’t keep his hope for better from shining through his sullen affectation. But he’d grown into a man. Twenty-seven on his last birthday. He knew the business inside and out. He was just as responsible for its success as she. No, she couldn’t keep holding him back here. He was too good to be her second-in-command forever. Time to talk to Lena and the lawyer about opening a second office. For him.
“Anything else, boss?” Josh asked, drawing her attention back to the meeting.
“Five o’clock at the photographer’s. No excuses. Clean uniform. Clean hair. Clean attitudes. This is going to be a thank-you to Charleston for giving you your high-paying jobs. Let’s make anyone who ever voted for Happy Housekeepers weep with sorrow that they were ever so deluded.”
That whipped them up. They stood in a cacophony of laughter and insults aimed at Marcus Canard. Wyatt leaned over and touched her hand, sending a flame through her. He’d brushed his hair and the sight of those slight curls so neat disappointed her a little. She liked the way it’d looked before.
“I know you said no excuses, but Jules has an appointment with her counselor at four and I...”
“Oh! Of course. No problem. I meant no excuses like ‘we went for pizza and forgot’ or ‘I was trying to get a girl’s digits and forgot.’”
What a shame. She’d planned on putting his gorgeous face and body right up front in the photo. If he didn’t stir up a couple new clients, nothing would. She watched him leave the room with DeShawn.
“Oh, I see.”
She turned to Molly. “You don’t see anything.” She stood and stomped to the kitchen for more coffee. “I’ve got phone calls to make.”
* * *
THE PHOTO SHOOT was a nightmare. Not really, but Sadie hated be at the center of attention. And she was. The photographer was wonderful. It was like herding cats to get fifteen testosterone-ridden young men to smile at the same time. Then she wanted to do crazy things like have them holding Sadie on their shoulders or have her crowd surfing through them. In the end, Sadie got the shot she wanted: she and Molly in the center of the guys, everyone smiling at the camera. Her guys were hot and she didn’t look like a gargoyle. Perfect.
The photographer was showing her pictures on the computer when DeShawn came up and touched her arm. His rich sable skin was ashen and his eyes looked lost. She stood. “What’s wrong?”
He held up his phone. “My grandmother.”
A knot of fear twisted in
her gut. DeShawn’s grandmother had raised him. Taken him away from his alcohol-abusing parents. No Child Protective Services. She took his free hand. “Is she okay?” Stupid. Of course she wasn’t. “What’s happened, DeShawn?”
“She had a stroke. She’s at the hospital. They say it’s bad. I’ve got to go.”
Sadie closed her fingers tighter on his. She looked around and caught Josh’s attention. He came immediately. DeShawn’s grandmother lived in Charlotte, NC, which was a three-hour drive. “Are you going to be okay to drive? Do you need one of us to take you?”
He shook his head. The dazed expression faded and his color began to come back. “I’ll be okay. No. I’ve got to go. I’ll be all right. I’m sorry about leaving.”
“Don’t be sorry. Not one bit. You go, be with your family. Don’t think on us for one second.”
Several of the guys gathered around DeShawn, offering help. By the time they led him out of the studio, Sadie’s concern over him making the drive had faded away. Josh walked up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
“You’ll have to finish orienting the FNG.”
Icy horror at the thought of being alone with Wyatt all day for several days filled her. Nope. There weren’t enough jelly beans in the world. She spun around and grabbed Josh’s forearm. He was laughing. Laughing!
He lifted his palms and gave her an innocent look. “I’ve got those beach rentals out at Kiawah Island to get done tomorrow. It’s a major operation and you’ve never done it before.”
Shit. Molly slung an arm around her shoulders.
“You want me to buy some extra jelly beans to bring in tomorrow?”
“You guys are so funny. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
She stomped out of the building. What was she going to do? He did things to her. Made her think things. Feel things. Hell, say things. And that almost kiss. Well, he was a guy. If she didn’t want to talk about it, maybe he wouldn’t, either. Maybe. Hopefully.
Spying on the Boss Page 9
