by Brenda Novak
“Yeah. My kids are with Terry, so there’s no real reason to go home. I’d like to finish here, as long as you don’t mind.”
He did mind. That was the problem. “But finishing could take all night, and then some,” he said.
She followed his gaze over the cluttered room. “Actually, I’m almost done. I’ve already made the new file tabs, and everything is sorted into stacks, except this pile here—” She indicated the papers closest to her, the ones she’d been poring over when he entered the room. “This is the stuff that doesn’t seem to go with anything. Should I make a Miscellaneous file, or would you rather look through it and tell me where you want everything to go?”
He wanted everything to go back where it had been before the tornado that was Jackie Wentworth had hit his office, but he wasn’t going to say so, not after seeing the pride she was taking in her work. Better to leave while he could still hold his tongue. “Actually, I haven’t had any dinner. I think I’ll go eat. Why don’t you put them in a miscellaneous file for now, and Rick can have a look in the morning.” Right after he gets finished answering to me for letting you tear the place apart.
“Okay. I’ll finish up, then, and lock the office behind me when I go.”
Cole felt a muscle tic in his cheek with the effort it took him to smile. “That’s fine. There’s an extra set of keys in Rick’s top drawer. You can keep them. Good night,” he said, and left, cursing Rick for giving Jackie a free hand.
But deep down, he knew he couldn’t blame Rick. Rick hadn’t asked for Jackie’s help; Rick hadn’t wanted a secretary. Cole had hired her knowing she’d probably be more trouble than she was worth.
So he had no one to blame but himself.
FINISHING THE FILES took much longer than Jaclyn had expected. By the time she closed the last drawer, it was nearly midnight, but she felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment. She now knew more about Perrini Homes and how it was run than six months of training could have taught her. She’d read the closing papers on the first house Cole developed, the documents for his first loan and the appraisals of each project. She’d studied the maps of his developments, knew their location and size and sell-out information. Going through the files had shown her the history of Perrini Homes—and the past eight years of Cole’s life.
Cole had to possess extraordinary business acumen to have built what he had out of nothing, Jaclyn thought, blowing a stray wisp of hair out of her face as she stood. According to Rochelle, he was a philanderer, like Terry, but at least he was a hard worker. At least he had dreams and knew how to make them come true.
She was going to make something of her life, too, Jaclyn decided, surveying the now tidy room. Taking Cole’s entire filing system from chaos to order might have been a small step forward, but it made her more optimistic about her future. Heck, she already knew a lot more about real estate than she had fifteen hours ago.
“God, I feel great,” she muttered happily, gathering her coat and shoes. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, she was tired and her back ached from hunching over for so long, but the warm feeling she had inside made her smile. She wanted to traipse through the house and find Cole so she could show him what she’d done, but the house had been quiet for some time. Cole was probably asleep. She’d go home and celebrate her victory with a brownie from her own freezer—
Suddenly she had a terrible thought. What about her car? Would it start? She’d been so engrossed in her work that she’d completely forgotten about the depleted battery.
Fishing her keys out of her purse, she hurried outside and unlocked the driver’s door. Please start, she prayed, slipping behind the wheel.
She pumped the gas pedal and turned the key, but nothing happened. The battery was dead, just as she’d feared. She was stranded at work on her first day, half starved and exhausted.
Imagining the sad picture she was going to make in the morning when Cole or Rick found her still at the office, wearing the same crumpled suit, she groaned. She had to get home. But how? It was too far to walk. She couldn’t afford a taxi, not if she was going to have to buy a new car battery, too. And she didn’t know how or where to catch a city bus. At this time of night, she wasn’t sure she felt safe traveling on one, anyway. The places she’d lived had been too small for public transit. She’d never taken a city bus in her life.
Eyeing the back part of the office, the part that was Cole’s living quarters, Jaclyn wondered if, by chance, he was still awake. His Lincoln Navigator was parked next to her car. If only she had his keys and a pair of jumper cables. She could be on her way in five minutes.
Can’t hurt to check, she thought, getting out. She walked around to the back of the house, where she hoped to see a light or some indication that Cole might still be working, but everything was shuttered and dark.
Would he mind terribly if she woke him?
Motivated by hunger and an intense desire for her bed, she let herself into the office and tiptoed down the hall toward where Cole had gone. Outside a full moon hung bright and low, lighting those rooms that didn’t have the blinds drawn. Jaclyn wandered through a state-of-the-art kitchen, complete with an island, a breakfast nook and white cabinetry, a formal dining room with hardwood floor and a den—judging by the expansive desk, leather furniture and fax machine—to confront a closed door that probably opened into Cole’s bedroom.
Raising her fist, she took a deep breath…and knocked.
“Cole? Are you in there?”
No response. Maybe the door led to a pantry or laundry area, and not Cole’s bedroom. She couldn’t be sure.
“Cole?” she called again, rattling the knob. The door was unlocked, and she was halfway through it, thinking he must be somewhere else in the house, when she heard his sleep-filled voice from just a few feet away.
“It’s okay, Laura. Come in. I’m glad you’re here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
COLE SMILED, content to remain half asleep as Laura slipped inside his room. He’d known she’d be back. She claimed she wanted nothing more to do with him, that she planned to marry and have a family with someone who was capable of making that kind of commitment. But she’d said similar things before. After a few weeks, she always called or came around, and they slipped into the same comfortable relationship they’d known for two years.
Tonight her timing was good. She’d been gone nearly a month, and he was missing the companionship and physical pleasure they shared. Not that he would have called her. It didn’t feel right to press her if she wasn’t happy with their relationship. But if she changed her mind on her own…well, that was a different story. He was perfectly willing to take up where they’d left off. For one thing, Laura understood and made allowances for his busy work schedule. For another, she’d been patient with him, considering. And he needed the distraction. He’d gone to sleep thinking about Jaclyn Wentworth and how angry he was at her for ruining his filing system. And how stupid he was for hiring her.
And how sexy she’d looked with her auburn hair falling down and that tired but happy smile on her face.
“Come here. Let me hold you,” he said, reaching out to her.
“I’m sorry?”
Something was wrong with her voice. Angling his head up, Cole squinted in an effort to see through the darkness, but he’d lowered his blinds before bed and couldn’t make out anything beyond the basic shape of a woman. “Laura?”
“No, it’s Jaclyn,” the murky shape responded, hugging the wall as though he might gobble her up whole if she came any closer. “I’m sorry to bother you, but…um…my car needs a jump. I was hoping I could borrow your keys and some jumper cables.”
“What?” In one swift motion, Cole snapped on the lamp, then groaned and shielded his eyes from the sudden burst of light. “Do you know what time it is?” he asked.
“It’s after midnight. I…I just finished for the day and would be gone by now, but my car won’t start.”
Great. Not only had she decimated his file room, she’d stranded
herself in the process. “Okay, give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll be right with you.”
“I can take care of it,” she said quickly. “Just tell me where you keep your keys and where you might have a set of jumper cables.”
Finally able to focus, he watched her gaze dip, which suddenly reminded him that he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs under the sheet. During the summer, he rarely wore anything more to bed. It was too blasted hot.
Righting the bedding so he could cover himself properly, Cole sank back. He couldn’t help her, regardless. He didn’t have jumper cables. He didn’t have anything like that. If he needed a jump, he called triple A. If he needed tools for anything else, he told Chad, and someone from the construction crew took care of it. Cole relocated too often to collect a lot of extra belongings. He packed light, and he wasn’t particularly mechanical.
“I don’t have cables,” he said, looking for the easiest solution. “Just take my truck.”
“Won’t you need it in the morning?”
“I don’t have any appointments first thing.” At least, not any I can remember right now. “The keys are…” He racked his brain, trying to place them. “Actually, they could be anywhere. I’ll have to find them for you.”
She stepped out of the bedroom so he could get up, and he padded to the dresser where he’d emptied his pockets before going to bed. Credit-card receipts, small change, cash, some documents he’d meant to read before going to sleep, but no keys. Yanking on a pair of basketball shorts, he headed to the kitchen to check on top of the refrigerator.
Jackie was standing in the hall chewing her lip, when Cole passed. In the light spilling from his room, she looked tired and embarrassed but beautiful—always beautiful. He wanted to tell her to relax, that he didn’t mind her waking him, but he hesitated to be too nice. He couldn’t get involved with her, even as a friend. He was afraid it would evolve into something more. And he already knew that a confirmed bachelor wasn’t what she needed.
“I really appreciate your help,” she said, following him into the kitchen. “I’ll get a new battery on my lunch hour tomorrow so this doesn’t happen again.”
“Are you sure you need a new battery? Maybe one of your kids left the overhead light on or something.”
“I don’t think so—they’ve been with Terry. And my car is pretty old. I don’t know when the battery was last replaced.”
“Have the clerk at the car-parts store check to see if it’s still good, just in case,” he told her, wondering why he felt the sudden urge to take over and handle the battery issue himself. It came from years of looking out for his brothers, he decided. But he wasn’t about to extend that responsibility to anyone else, especially someone who might not understand it for what it was—a desire to help, nothing more. Jackie could certainly manage a new battery.
A loud growl came from the region of her stomach, and Cole glanced at her. “Haven’t you eaten?” he asked.
She shrugged, turning red. “I was too engrossed in what I was doing to stop for dinner. Wait till you see the files,” she added. “You’re going to be so impressed. The documents in each one are organized by date, the oldest stuff at the bottom. The first cabinet houses all your closed and finished projects, in numerical order according to address. The next has your current stuff, organized the same way. The third has land packages and other information on properties you’ve looked into but haven’t bought yet. The final cabinet contains employee records, receipts, bills, banking information and tax information. Each drawer is labeled, in case you forget. And tomorrow I’m going to do an index that will help you find any file you need in seconds.”
An attack of conscience over his earlier reaction to her efforts on the files caused Cole to clear his throat and turn away. Discovering his keys on the counter, he dropped them into her palm and forced himself to thank her. “That was a lot of work. I appreciate that you went the extra mile,” he said. “You know I don’t expect you to stay past five o’clock, though, don’t you?”
She smiled. “Oh, I know. I wanted to finish. And I’m glad I did. It really taught me a lot. I bet I know more about you now than most people.”
When Cole met her eyes, he pictured Terry’s arm slung casually around her shoulders, remembered seeing them dance at the senior prom as king and queen—right before he cut out of the dance for good. She didn’t know anything about him. Not really. And if he could help it, she never would.
“I’d offer you something to eat,” he said, “but I usually eat out so my cupboards are bare. I do have a microwave dinner, if you’re interested.”
“You eat microwave dinners?”
He used to cook every night, but only because he had to. When he was young, he had to feed his brothers. When he left Feld, he was still living on a shoestring and survived on macaroni and cheese and corn dogs—not that he called that cooking. Since then, things had changed considerably. “I don’t have time for anything else.”
“Who’s Laura?” she asked. “Your girlfriend?”
“Just a friend.”
“Doesn’t she cook for you?”
“Occasionally,” he said, because he didn’t want to go into the fact that even if she had cooked for him at one time, she probably wouldn’t be doing it anymore. He didn’t like talking about Laura. She was a nice person who deserved a husband and children, if that was what she wanted. And he felt guilty for not giving her that. Sometimes he told himself it was pure selfishness that made him refuse her, but if he’d learned anything from Rochelle, it was that a sense of obligation wasn’t a reliable basis for marriage. Bottom line, he wasn’t walking down the aisle again for anyone. Marriage made him feel smothered, restricted, and only added to his burden of responsibility.
“Well, work comes early in the morning,” she said, singling the ignition key out from the others and edging toward the hall that would take her back around to the office.
“You can go out the main entryway. I’ll lock the office,” he volunteered.
“Thanks.” She followed as he led her through the living room to the front of the house. “I’ll be careful with your truck.”
He held the door as she went out, bade her good-night and watched her drive away. Then he locked up and went to do the same in the office. But when he passed the copier room, he couldn’t help stopping in and opening the file drawers. Sure enough, every folder was now clearly labeled and perfectly organized. He’d been wrong to assume the worst.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, closing the last drawer. “And she did it on her first day.”
Maybe hiring her hadn’t been so stupid. Maybe she was just what Perrini Homes needed.
Maybe she was just what he needed.
No. Laura, or someone like her, suited him better, he told himself. But he couldn’t explain why he wasn’t more disappointed that his ex-girlfriend hadn’t contacted him. Neither could he say why it wasn’t her lips he imagined kissing as he climbed back into bed.
LEATHER INTERIOR. Nothing smelled better, Jaclyn decided as she drove the ten miles to her house, coveting Cole’s smooth-riding Navigator. Once she got her real-estate license and started selling homes, she’d be able to buy herself a new SUV. She used to drive expensive cars and trucks all the time when she was with Terry, but it wasn’t the same. Like everything else, their vehicles had belonged to Burt.
Jaclyn grimaced as she pictured Burt’s face. If she disliked anyone, she disliked him. He ruled his house with an iron fist, had Terry’s mother, Dolores, completely cowed, and thought Terry should have been able to exert the same kind of control over Jaclyn. When Jaclyn had sued for divorce, it was Burt who headed up the opposition. First he tried to shame her into staying, then he tried to bribe her with a new house and a larger monthly allowance. At last he waged a smear campaign against her on the basis of her parenting skills and tried to take away her children. Fortunately, the judge hadn’t allowed him to take them completely—he’d given her and Terry joint custody. But the co
urts had cooperated more fully with the Wentworths in the financial realm. The smile on Burt’s face the last time she’d seen him told her the court battles might finally be over, but nothing was set in stone. He thought poverty would eventually drive her back to Terry. But thanks to a little help from Cole and a whole lot of determination on her part, the great Burt Wentworth wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Not this time.
Signaling, Jaclyn pulled into the 7-Eleven only a few blocks from her house. It was late and she was tired, but she was enjoying driving Cole’s SUV, listening to his CDs and smelling the lingering scent of his cologne. When they were in high school, she’d never really let herself think about him—her heart had always belonged to Terry, and Cole had seemed too…sensual, too dangerous somehow—but she had to admit he was attractive. She could definitely see how Rochelle had fallen for him.
Jaclyn browsed through the store, eventually buying an iced mocha and a microwave burrito for dinner, along with a couple of candy bars for dessert. How long had it been since she’d felt this good? she wondered as she carried it all back to Cole’s truck. Ages. Since before the divorce—years before, when her parents were alive, and she was still hopeful that her marriage had a chance.
She sat in the lot and ate her meal to a Santana CD, then tossed her garbage into the trash and headed home. Maybe her life was about to get easier, she thought. But then she pulled into her drive and saw Terry’s truck parked at the house, and knew, for tonight, it was only going to get worse.
“What’s he doing here a day early?” she muttered, parking to the side so he could still get his truck out.
The door to the house opened before Jaclyn ever reached the porch, and Terry emerged, wearing his usual Wrangler jeans, T-shirt and cowboy hat.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, taking one look at her dress, and the high heels she carried in her left hand.
“At work,” she said.
“Like hell. We went by Joanna’s. They said you don’t work there anymore. They said you were fired.”
