by Ann, Natalie
***
Twenty minutes later, holding her salad in one hand, Brooke set down her iced tea that was in the other hand and then lifted her lanyard with her ID toward the scanning gun the cashier was pointing at her. Another benefit, she thought. Never having to worry about carrying cash. Just scan her ID card and it came out of her account.
“Late lunch?” Brooke turned with a start to see Lucas coming up beside her.
“Yes, I’m going to eat at my desk today,” she replied politely, adding a tentative smile.
“Can you wait up for me? Let me go grab a sandwich quick, if you aren’t busy? I’ve got a few ideas I want to run by you and we can do it while we eat. If that’s okay?” he hedged, clearly not wanting to push the issue.
A short time later, Brooke stood up to throw away her empty salad container while she tried to gather her thoughts. “Can I ask you a question?”
Lucas smiled. The laugh lines around his eyes evidence of his good nature. Weren’t lawyers supposed to be serious all the time?
“Sure,” he drawled.
“What was this all about?” She gestured toward his lunch on the table in the small conference room where they had eaten. “This meeting. We didn’t really need to meet for lunch for this. You could have sent me an email.”
The smile lines deepened more around his eyes. “Well, if I have to explain it to you, then I guess I haven’t been doing as good of a job as I thought I was.”
When she continued to look into his eyes, he sighed and told her directly, “I like you, Brooke. I like spending time with you. Can you tell me you haven’t noticed, or maybe you don’t feel the same way? Maybe I’ve been reading this all wrong. But I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”
No use pretending she didn’t understand his meaning. “You don’t think it’s wrong?” she asked cautiously.
“What? Wanting to get to know you better? Wanting to spend time with you? Why would it be wrong?”
“Well, for one, I work for you?”
He raised his hand before she could go any further. “No, you don’t work for me. You work with me, completely different. Unless you look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t interested, I’m not too worried about sexual harassment.” The laugh lines reappeared. When she didn’t speak up, he sighed. “So what is number two?”
“I’m not comfortable getting involved with someone I work with. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I don’t need to put myself in a position where people will gossip or make assumptions about how I’ve gotten there,” she stated firmly.
He waved his hand carelessly. “First off, no one is going to think you slept your way to the top, if that is what you are concerned with.”
She didn’t correct him.
“You were hired for this position prior to us even meeting. I should add we have no prior connections at all. Besides, we’re both professionals. We know how to keep our work and our private lives separate. Number three? Or were there only two issues?” he asked in a teasing tone.
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t make a joke out of it. I’m serious.”
He hastened to assure her. “I’m not joking. I’m trying to lighten the mood, two different things. I take this very seriously. I’ve always been very careful about my private life. I don’t and haven’t lived the life of a monk, but I’ve always kept my personal life just that, personal.”
He softened his approach. “But I see something here. I feel something here. I think you do too. What’s wrong with giving it a try? What’s the worst that can happen? If it doesn’t work out, we’ve lost nothing. We go back to only being colleagues. But what if it does work out? Don’t want you want to see where it could go?”
“You make it all sound so simple. But it’s not.” More honesty, her last ditch effort to convince him, or maybe she needed to convince herself. “I’m not sure I’m ready. I just got out of a relationship.”
“And that would be number three. How long ago?”
“Almost a year.”
He let out a sigh. His lips quirked up a bit. “That’s your definition of just got out of a relationship? For a second there I thought you were going to say a month.”
“I guess it sounds silly when you say it like that or say it out loud. But it’s complicated. It may have ended then. But, well, let’s end this with...it’s complicated.”
He reached across table and lightly placed his hand on top of hers. “Do you feel that? Do you feel the heat, the tingles in your stomach right now? I see the goose bumps on your arms.”
His blue eyes stared deeply into her whiskey-colored ones, watched the pink hue creep up her neck to her face. “I know what you are feeling because I feel it too. Let’s give it a try.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Work is work. Anything else is fair game. You set the pace. What do you think? Sound reasonable enough?”
After she nodded, he stood, grabbed the remains of his lunch from the conference table and addressed her quickly. “Can’t get any fairer than that. You know how to reach me. Don’t make we wait too long.” He closed the door behind him.
Brooke took a deep breath, dropped her head into her hands. She was in trouble. She could hear her heart as it beat in her chest, felt the pulse throbbing in her throat. Not to mention a pulse down below. No matter how much she tried to fight it, she was seriously attracted to him.
She was terrified the past was going to repeat itself. She tried to convince herself Lucas wasn’t Robbie. In her heart she knew that. Lucas had never given any indication that he wasn’t the standup guy everyone said he was. And she had asked plenty, discretely of course.
But in her mind, she saw herself broken in body and soul. Trying to put the pieces back together. Did she have it in her to try again? Was it even worth it?
***
Brooke considered canceling her gym day with Cori. She needed time to think, and more importantly, she didn’t want to risk running into Lucas again.
But she came to the conclusion that it was cowardice, and that was one thing she wasn’t. If he showed up at the gym she would deal with it. Like she did with everything else in life.
Besides, she enjoyed looking at him as he worked out. Hot and sweaty, muscles flexing as he lifted weights. The casual grace he had on the treadmill, all lean and muscular, and all male.
She was hoping to be able to put on a good front for Cori, because lately Cori had been able to see and understand more than Brooke felt comfortable with.
“So how did your appointment go with Dr. Chen today?” At Brooke’s startled look, Cori explained, “What, did you think I would forget? I have no life. I have to live through you now, and frankly that is just as depressing.” Ignoring Brooke’s snort, Cori repeated, “So, how did it go?”
“Good, I like her. Physical therapy starts next week, and we will go from there.”
“So what happened exactly? You never did say other than you had surgery. You always seem to downplay it, but I’m not stupid. I can see you’re in pain more often than not by the end of the day.”
Brooke didn’t know why she was still trying to keep it a secret. Well, deep down she was embarrassed. Embarrassed she put herself in the situation that resulted in the accident. But mostly she didn’t want anyone’s pity. Or pity for her injuries—or the circumstances that caused the accident.
“I was in a car accident. Lots of little injuries, cuts, bruises, concussion, stitches and so on. But I had two major injuries. My right femur was shattered. First surgery, they put in a pin, the second was to repair damages to my muscle and tendons around thigh and knee. Unfortunately, my leg wasn’t the only thing broken. I also had to have three vertebrae fused back together in my back,” she said, keeping a nonchalant tone, trying to downplay the severity of her injuries.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea. I mean you brush it off so casually, but those injuries are anything but. How long has it been?”
Brooke shrugged, turning her attention to the other occupants in the gym. “I’m n
ot good at being the center of attention, let alone being pitied. It’s been almost a year, about eleven months, actually. After spending six months either in bed, a wheelchair or on crutches, I couldn’t wait to get on my own two feet again. It’s been a long road. I still have a bit to go, but I’m getting there.” Before Cori could interrupt, she ended with, “So anyway, thanks for the recommendation to Dr. Chen.”
Knowing that Cori would have a lot of questions, Brooke shut down the conversation. Like she always did when someone wanted to talk about her accident. There was only so much Brooke was willing share. Thankfully, Cori seemed to realize that and didn’t press the issue.
Instead, Cori noticed that two treadmills had finally opened up next to each other. “Want to run today, those two just opened up?” She waved her arm rapidly to the far end of the gym.
“No, I’m not up to running yet. At least not more than a few minutes, and I can’t stand it when people walk on a treadmill. It’s a pet peeve of mine. You can get on it if you want though. I’ll hop on one of the bikes.”
Silently Brooke hoped Cori agreed so their conversation would be minimized. And it would also minimize any speculation regarding Lucas, because ultimately Lucas’s name always seemed to come up.
“Nah, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, because, unfortunately, I would be walking on the treadmill,” Cori added ruefully. “Besides I’m really not in the mood to work out today. I almost canceled on you, but I wanted to know how your appointment turned out.”
“Oh, you could have canceled. Please don’t feel like we have to meet. There will be days I can’t meet either.”
“It wasn’t that I couldn’t, it was just I had one of those days. I don’t get them often, but today was one of them. You know the kind where you can hear a bottle of wine and a chocolate cake calling your name.”
Brooke never understood the need to indulge in chocolate or alcohol when she was down. Though she did notice Cori’s normal sparkle seemed to be missing today. Instead of laughing and joking, her words running together all at once, she was calmly carrying on a conversation. “We can leave early if you want,” Brooke suggested.
“Going home alone doesn’t seem too appealing either right now,” Cori replied, her shoulders drooping.
Brooke felt like she was looking at a lost puppy, and the words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. “Why don’t you come over for dinner then? I don’t have any wine or chocolate, but I planned on trying a new recipe tonight. It makes quite a bit, so there will be plenty.”
Instantaneously Cori’s green eyes grew wide and lit up. “Really? That would be awesome. Give me your address and I’ll meet you there. I want to run home to shower and change quick.”
They finished up quickly, cutting their workout short after all, with Cori promising to be at Brooke’s in thirty minutes or less.
***
Brooke barely had enough time to take a quick shower and change into a comfortable pair of tan capris, paired with a soft blue fitted cotton shirt, before she heard the doorbell.
Cori handed the bakery box to Brooke the minute she opened the door and carried a brown paper bag as she walked inside. Looking down at Brooke’s bare feet, she slipped off her own sandals and held the bag up playfully. “Wine”—then pointed to the box—“Chocolate cake. Since you are providing the dinner, I’m providing the entertainment portion of our date,” Cori said with a giggle. “And cute nail polish.” She nodded down at Brooke’s red-hot pedicure. “Got a little wild side, I see.”
Cori was halfway into the living room when she started to swivel her head around the room. “This place suits you,” she said, remarking on the clean classic lines of the furniture, neutral wall colors and simple flat screen TV mounted on the wall. “It should look dull, but your throw pillows and artwork brighten the place up. Just like you—cool at first glance, but then cheerful.” She ended with another giggle.
Brooke rolled her eyes as Cori followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, where she placed the bakery box on the center island.
Cori’s head frantically looked around the kitchen, apparently noticing how meticulously organized everything was, all the ingredients for the night’s dinner lined up on the counter by the stove. “Do you spend every moment cleaning?” Cori ran her fingers across a countertop in the far corner. “Oops, left some fingerprints,” she said with a smile. “Sorry about that.”
“No, I don’t spend every moment cleaning,” Brooke said with a frown. “It’s only me. How much of a mess can one person really make?” But seeing Cori’s grin, Brooke added, “Don’t answer that. Suffice it to say, I like things tidy. Which I’m sure you could figure out by now. So I pick up when I’m done doing something, nothing more than that. I have a routine to keep things simple.”
Thankfully, Cori decided not to respond but rather started looking around the room with the wine bottle in her hand, opening cabinets at random. Brooke pointed to one cabinet with the knife she had picked up in preparation for dinner.
After pouring two glasses of the red wine, Cori got comfortable on one of the barstools opposite Brooke at the island. “Guess red was a good choice tonight. Having some type of pasta and veggies?” She watched as Brooke sliced red peppers and mushrooms in neat identical wedges. “I was thinking red with the chocolate cake, but I’m glad it works with dinner too.”
“So tell me about your bad day. Why you felt the need to go home, drink wine and eat chocolate,” Brooke said, while she slid the vegetables in a pan, heard the sizzle.
“So it all started with the second patient of the day,” Cori said, and then proceeded to explain how it seemed every patient that came in was grouchy or nastier than the last. Soon they were both laughing over what Brooke thought had to be exaggerations on Cori’s part. It seemed to Brooke no one could have a day as bad as what Cori described and yet end up laughing about it.
Twenty minutes later, Cori was twirling another forkful around the plate full of pasta and lightly seasoned vegetables. “Mmm, this is awesome. Do you ever do anything that doesn’t turn out perfect?”
“It’s a dish of pasta, how can you ruin it?” Brooke mused.
“You are joking, right? If I tried to make this, I would have used twice as many pots and pans as you did.” Cori glanced at the stove, counted out two. “Then it would have taken me twice as long to make, and in the end it would have ended up burnt.”
Brooke shook her head and asked, “How do you burn pasta?”
“Trust me, it can and has been done. You will have to take my word for it.”
Cori plopped her elbows on the counter, her chin in her hands. “So is there anything you can’t do, or don’t do more efficiently than anyone else?” she asked with a grin.
“I’m not perfect, you know. Just ask my mother. I’m sure she has a long list for you.” Brooke slapped her hand in front of her mouth. “Oops, sorry, must be the wine, ignore me.”
“No way. And hey, don’t apologize. This is getting good. And here, let’s top off these glasses.” Reaching over, Cori poured the remaining wine into each of their glasses, then set the empty bottle down with a clang. “So Mommy issues, then? Guess she isn’t the one who taught you to cook? I might have pegged you as needing to live up to Daddy, but not Mommy.”
Figuring she opened the can of worms, she would go with it. There was something about Cori that always made Brooke drop her defenses a little bit. “It’s not what you think. And trust me, this is way too long of a story for tonight. But let’s say my mother and I are total opposites.”
Brooke paused, took a sip of her wine. “My mother has never worked a day in her life. And as for cooking—ha—that is a laugh. She’s good at planning dinner. But the cook prepared the actual meals, or the nanny, whoever was working that night.”
With a big sigh and another gulp of wine, Brooke continued. “My mother spends most of her time going to committee meetings, doing and saying all the right things. Making su
re the world sees us as the perfect little family. I think she felt I was a doll. You know, dress me up, and pose just right, looking and acting perfect in every situation.” For the life of her, Brooke couldn’t explain why she confessed all that to Cori.
“Wow, I had no idea. I mean I guess that makes some sense. You do seem very controlled at times.” Brooke frowned, and Cori hastily added, “I don’t mean to insult you. It’s just you always look so polished and put together regardless of the situation. Except the gym. There you aren’t so polished, but like you said, you fit in fine, too. So I guess all those years of grooming did rub off.”
“Yeah, well, some things are ingrained, I guess. It’s not always a bad thing to be in control. And I can thank her for some things.”
Brooke gazed around the room absently, starting to feel guilty and disrespectful toward her mother. She was raised better, so she added, “I’m not trying to make it all so bad. My mother loved my brother and me. Her version of love, I suppose. My brother did what was expected of him, followed my father into medicine. Mackenzie ‘Mac’ Malone. Because when you’re successful, it’s expected to have a nickname,” she added, dryly.
Cori snorted, but Brooke continued on after another healthy gulp of wine. She was in this deep, might as well roll with it. “So anyway, back to the nickname thing. It was good for my brother, but not me. Brooklyn Anne Malone, never Brooke. Brooke didn’t come about until college really. When I had a bit of freedom to be myself. But to this day I’m still Brooklyn to my family. Well, to my parents. Mac actually is the only one in the family who calls me Brooke, much to my parents’ disgust.”
“But Brooklyn is an awesome name. Was it only rebelling that made your shorten it, or was it you wanted to be like your brother?”
Brooke stood up, picked up her plate. “You done here, or would like some more?” At Cori’s headshake, Brooke walked to the sink to rinse out both dishes. “I guess that might be part of it. I never really looked at it that way. I think it was more that I knew I couldn’t fit into that mold. I never wanted to be that girl. Getting away, that was my chance to make the change. Besides, my name was a bit embarrassing in school.”
