Retreat (Balm in Gilead Book 3)

by Noelle Adams

  Since she’d already turned off her computer, she’d wait until tomorrow to get back to him and find out more details, but she was thinking that she might do it.

  It might be good to get away for a weekend.

  She put her phone down and went back to her bathroom mirror so she could finish combing out her hair.

  Her hair was ash blond and reached just past her shoulders. She nearly always pulled it back in a low bun—a rather prim style she’d cultivated when she was younger and had been trying to find a way to approach her clients and the professional world as a young, relatively pretty, blond woman. Everyone found their own way to do this, and hers had been to dress in an old-fashioned style—like a clichéd librarian. She liked her style, and she enjoyed shopping for clothes and shoes. But she also used the primness as a kind of distraction from her sexuality.

  It had worked.

  Most people she encountered didn’t view her sexually at all.

  She reminded herself that this was a good thing.

  She stared at herself with loose hair and bare arms and shoulders and was almost surprised that she looked so pretty. She had small bones, and she worked out fairly regularly, so her body was slim and fit. Her hair had a few strands of gray in it, but they blended into the blond and so weren’t particularly noticeable. Her eyes were hazel, and her skin was fair and smooth. She generally liked the way she looked.

  It would be nice if there was a man who liked the way she looked as well, but she couldn’t judge her worth or value through that.

  She never had. And just because she happened to be in a lonely mood this week didn’t mean she was going to start.

  She was giving herself a little pep talk when there was a knock on her front door.

  She frowned and glanced at the time. It was just after eight, so it wasn’t really late, but she certainly hadn’t expected any visitors.

  When the knock came again, she went to open the door.

  She lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of Balm in Gilead. It was separate from the public areas, and only staff ever went down the hall that led to it.

  She had no idea who would be knocking now.

  When she swung open the door, she blinked when she saw Zeke standing in front of her, a frown on his face and a few damp spots on his T-shirt from sweat.

  “Zeke,” she said in surprise.

  He stared at her, his eyes running down her body and then back up to her face.

  When he just stood there, she prompted, “What’s the matter? Did you need something?”

  His eyes traveled up and down her body again.

  She glanced down at herself. She was covered mostly appropriately—with more clothes on than people usually wore in the summer or on the beach. But she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the shape of her nipples was visible through the fabric of her top. Her feet were bare, and one of her straps was slipping down over her shoulder.

  She might be covered, but she was not quite ready for public viewing.

  She cleared her throat and pulled the strap back up her shoulder. She wondered what Zeke was thinking as he stared at her like that.

  She really wanted to know.

  “Zeke?” she said coolly, mostly to cover her sudden wave of self-consciousness.

  He made a strange sound in his throat and yanked his eyes back up to her face. “Sorry. Sorry. I thought you’d be up.”

  “I was up. I just took a bath early tonight. Did you need something?”

  “You said you needed to talk.”

  She’d sent him a text a few hours ago, asking him to come talk to her when he had a minute, and when he didn’t show up immediately, she’d assumed he wouldn’t get the time until tomorrow morning.

  “Oh. Oh right. Right.” Realizing she was stammering—which she almost never did—she stepped back to let him into her living room. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

  She went to her room to grab a sweater and fully cover herself. A glance in the mirror showed that her cheeks were very pink and there was a strangely wild look in her eyes.

  What was wrong with her?

  True, she wasn’t in the habit of wearing her pajamas around Zeke, but it wasn’t the end of the world. He dropped by her apartment every now and then when they had something to discuss. They worked together fairly closely and they had for the past eight years.

  There was nothing intimate about his sitting on a chair in her living room.

  She returned and found him sitting at the small dining table, which was a relief since it meant there could be a table between them. She sat across from him with the cool smile she always used to approach business matters.

  He was still staring at her with a strange intensity from above his dark beard, but at least his eyes stayed on her face this time.

  She’d learned early on never to waste time trying to make small talk with Zeke. It never went anywhere. So she said, “Matt Friedman came to talk to me this afternoon.”

  Zeke grunted. She could see a slight expression of understanding in his eyes, as if he now knew what she was going to say.

  “He was very upset, saying you yelled at him earlier and said some very rude and disrespectful things to him.”

  Zeke grunted again.

  “Is it true?”

  “I didn’t raise my voice.”

  Cecily nodded. Matt and his wife were staying with them for just the weekend, the trip being funded by the corporation he worked for. He was a man who was obviously used to being in control, and he’d bristled from the beginning at the rules and restraints of the center. She’d hoped Matt had been exaggerating or making it up, but it sounded like his story had been mostly true. “I know Matt can be rather… obnoxious, but I thought we’d talked about your just walking away if one of our guests angered you.”

  She hated doing this kind of thing—particularly with Zeke. Usually her staff behaved very well, but some correction or critique was unavoidable. But Zeke was different. He was never nice, and sometimes guests complained about him, but he didn’t usually do something like this, something so out of bounds.

  Zeke grunted again, his blue eyes still fixed on her face.

  “Is there more to the story?” she asked, genuinely confused.

  He didn’t say anything.

  She sighed. “If there’s not, then you’re going to have to apologize to Matt. I’m sorry, but you can’t treat guests that way.”

  He gave a curt nod and stood up, turning toward the door without another word.

  Usually she would have been relieved that an awkward conversation was over, but things didn’t feel right or settled right now.

  She stood up too. “Zeke?”

  He stopped and turned his head to look back at her over his shoulder.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Zeke didn’t speak for a moment. Then he finally muttered, “He’s a bully.”

  “Who was he a bully with?”

  “His wife.”

  Cecily’s eyes widened. “He was bullying his wife?”

  Zeke nodded.

  “Physically?”

  “Verbally.”

  “It was bad?”

  Zeke nodded again.

  Cecily trusted Zeke—both his judgment and his honesty—more than almost anyone else in the world. She never even doubted that he was telling her the truth.

  She let out a breath. “Okay. You don’t have to apologize. Just avoid him until he leaves tomorrow.”

  A tension relaxed almost imperceptibly in Zeke’s shoulders, but that was the only sign in his face or body of his response to her decision. “Thanks,” he muttered as he left the room.

  Cecily stared at the closed door after he left for a minute, feeling a smile play on the corners of her mouth. Then she actually chuckled.

  She should have known that Zeke wouldn’t go beyond the bounds toward a guest without a good reason. He was never polite, but he also didn’t lose control.

  She could rely on him in almo
st every way, and that simply wasn’t true of most people.

  As she took off her sweater and looked for a book to read for the evening, she couldn’t help but wonder what Zeke had been thinking when he’d seen her answer the door in her pajamas.

  She wondered if he’d thought she looked pretty.

  Then she reminded herself that it didn’t matter—she was Zeke’s boss and nothing else—and forced herself to stop replaying it in her mind.

  Two

  For the past eight and a half years, Zeke Ward had lived exactly as he wanted, without worrying about others’ expectations or attitudes toward him. His wife, Lara, had died, and everything had changed. He’d no longer believed he should alter his behavior because of someone else’s arbitrary rules or opinions.

  Which was why he found it so strange that he was becoming more and more concerned about what Cecily thought about him.

  It was strange to care so much.

  It was unnerving.

  He didn’t like it—since it roused a lot of feelings and insecurities he hadn’t had to bother with since Lara.

  Two nights after his conversation with Cecily about Matt Friedman, he was still replaying it—his fear that she was disappointed in him and his intense relief when she’d understood.

  And his even more intense response to seeing her in her pajamas, with flushed cheeks and tousled hair, the outline of tight nipples beneath her top.

  None of those things were good for him, and it annoyed him that he was still reliving them all in his mind, even two days later.

  There was simply no reason for it.

  He had always liked and respected Cecily, and he thought she was brilliant and kind. He’d taken the job with her because it meant he could work with his hands and interact only minimally with other people, but he would have found something else if he didn’t think she’d be a good boss.

  Because he’d worked with her for so long, he was undoubtedly closer to her than anyone else in the world.

  But that didn’t mean they could be anything other than they were right now.

  Even if he’d thought it was a possibility for him, he knew very well that she’d never look at him that way.

  Which was just as well.

  He’d tried marriage. He’d had a good one for nine years. Then Lara had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had died less than two months later.

  He always worked late into the evening—because quiet time was when his mind got out of control—and he was usually so tired at the end of the day that he just ate a quick dinner and went to bed so he could wake up at dawn and start working again.

  But at nine o’clock that evening, just after dusk, he noticed someone turning on the pool lights when he got out of the shower.

  Zeke lived in a little cottage on Balm in Gilead’s property with a paved walk that led to the patio and pool deck, and he could see the lights come on out his front window.

  Frowning, he pulled on a pair of sweats and walked outside to investigate.

  The pool closed when it got dark since they couldn’t be liable for guests swimming in the dark when there was no one else around. No one should be in the pool right now.

  When he got to the gate that led into the pool area, he saw who it was.

  Cecily.

  Her hair was pulled back, and her head was in the water as she swam laps in a graceful freestyle, but he could recognize her body.

  She was allowed to use the pool whenever she wanted. There wasn’t anything for him to take care of here. He could go back to his cottage and go to bed the way he’d planned.

  Instead, he stood where he was and watched her.

  She was beautiful—the shape of her body, the way she moved in the water.

  He had no idea why she wasn’t married, why no man had seen who she was and what she had to offer and moved heaven and earth to win her.

  Maybe they’d tried and Cecily hadn’t been interested.

  There had always been something untouchable about her intellect, her perfect composure, her cool beauty.

  It was entirely possible that no man had been brave enough to approach her.

  Men today were often lazy cowards and only tried for a sure thing.

  Cecily would never be a sure thing. For anyone.

  He stood and watched her for almost ten minutes until she slowed down and then finally stopped swimming. She pulled herself out of the water, and Zeke knew he should turn around and go back home.

  Instead, he kept watching her, his eyes lingering on her slim legs, her shapely arms, the lush curves of her breasts and hips beneath the wet fabric of her one-piece suit.

  His body started to react to the sight of her, a sure sign he should leave. For the past few years, his body had been noticing how gorgeous she was far more often than he was comfortable with, and the only thing to make it stop responding was to remove himself from her vicinity.

  But he couldn’t seem to turn around. He couldn’t seem to stop gazing at her.

  She walked over to the table on which she’d left her towel, and she dried herself off in quick, efficient moves. She obviously had no idea that anyone was watching her.

  He shouldn’t be. It didn’t feel right to stare at her like this when she wasn’t aware of him. But his eyes refused to move. His whole body had tightened with interest.

  When she’d towel-dried her hair, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders and looked like she was ready to leave.

  But she turned without warning to stare out in the direction of the dunes, the beach, the ocean. Then her head shifted slightly until she was looking straight at him.

  She must have somehow sensed his presence.

  It was obvious she’d seen him. Her expression had changed. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops and walked over to where he still stood like a statue.

  He prayed in a sudden surge of desperation that she wouldn’t be able to see how he’d been responding to her just now.

  “Hi,” she said with her normal smile. “Sorry. Did I disturb you?”

  She looked perfectly composed and natural, and it was a relief. He had to make sure she stayed that way. “Not really,” he managed to mutter. “Just saw the lights and came to see who it was.”

  “I was just… I don’t know… restless or something. I needed to exercise if I was going to get any sleep tonight.”

  He nodded, unable to hold back a small shiver of pleasure when he noticed her eyes slipping down to his bare chest.

  It looked like she liked what she saw.

  She cleared her throat with another little smile. “All right. Good night then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He nodded again. She wouldn’t necessarily expect him to talk since he often didn’t, so he didn’t have to risk her hearing something revealing in his voice.

  He stood where he was—still unmoving—until she’d made it to the building and gone inside. A few seconds later, the pool lights went out, leaving him in darkness.

  Darkness was fine with him.

  Darkness had always been safer.

  ***

  The next morning, Zeke was trying to forget about the evening before.

  It wasn’t good for him—thinking about Cecily this way. He could tell himself he was still a man—not even forty yet—so he had all the normal biological urges. Pretending they didn’t exist didn’t make them go away. All that was true, but it didn’t matter.

  If he thought about her that way, he would eventually want to do something about it.

  And he couldn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  It was an impossible fantasy.

  So it wasn’t good for him to think about it at all.

  He worked in the garden all morning, pouring himself into the mindless work to distract himself from any tantalizing images and ideas that kept flitting into his head. And it was almost noon before he even considered stopping to take a rest or grab something to eat.

  He was dripping with sweat since the sky was cloudless today and the s
un was already beating down on him. His back muscles were sore and so were his thighs from crouching so much.

  He needed to rest for a few minutes.

  Surely it would be safe to do so now since his body was too tired to react in any inappropriate ways.

  He had just stood up and was stretching his back when he heard the garden gate squeak.

  He needed to oil those hinges.

  When he turned his head, he saw Cecily approaching, dressed in a tan skirt—one of those straight, knee-length skirts she liked best—and a moss-green top, lacy and old-fashioned.

  Her hair was pulled back, and she wore her glasses and heels. And, ridiculously, her appearance turned him on with an immediate surge of lust since he knew what her body looked like underneath it, what her hair looked like when it was loose around her shoulders.

  Damn it.

  He really needed to rein all this in.

  Right away.

  Cecily had smiled in greeting when she saw him, but her smile faded as she looked around the garden. “There’s still a lot left to do,” she said as she came to stand in front of him. “Do you think you’ll have it done by Wednesday?”

  He frowned, annoyed at himself for getting turned on and annoyed at her for the stupid photo shoot with Kara that she was planning for Wednesday. He shrugged and gave a grunt of response.

  She frowned at him. “I asked you if you thought you’d have it done by then.”

  He’d been working himself to the bone all morning on this garden, so he didn’t appreciate her disappointment. “And I said I’d try.”

  Her eyes were still roaming, focused on the plants he’d finished so far and the ones in cartons he still had left to do. He redid the garden twice a year, once in spring and once in autumn. She’d never insisted he do so, but he’d always taken pride in his work. He hadn’t liked what he’d put together early in September, so he’d decided a few weeks ago that it needed to be redone completely.

  For the first time, he was regretting it.

  Zeke was tired and distracted and frustrated, and his emotions were far more roused than they normally were.

  He and Cecily had a way of interacting that worked for both of them. She didn’t expect him to be verbose or friendly, and he knew where the lines were he shouldn’t cross.