Darling_Rebel

by Mary Suzanne

  A shock hit her. The man behind the wheel was the same man she saw the night before in the lounge. The loud blasts of horns from the other cars trying to pass her in the congested street brought her back to the present. She stepped on the gas and shot across the street.

  Butterflies danced in her stomach over the incident. How could such a coincidence happen to her? She couldn’t believe she was seeing the same man twice in less than twenty-four hours. She took a deep breath and continued to her appointment at the apartment complex.

  Sasha fell in love with the apartment on sight. After giving the manager her name, he looked at her curiously and asked if she was a relative of Mike Jardane. When she told him she was indeed Mike’s daughter, he told her he would waive any need for references from her and she could put a deposit down. It seemed her father’s name followed her everywhere, but once she started work, no one would be the wiser. She’d be just Sasha James. Sasha gave the man a check and took her key before heading back home.

  She forgot the earlier incident at the intersection as thoughts of the fast-paced developments filled her head. Already, she had rented an apartment, and her next step involved employment. When she arrived home, she went up to her bedroom to begin packing.

  Later that afternoon, she carried all but one suitcase to her car. Her father walked in as she struggled down the staircase with the last piece of luggage.

  "I take it you liked the apartment," he remarked, removing the heavy case from her hand and placing it in the trunk of her car.

  "It's a great place.”

  "I'm glad you're happy with it.” He draped his arm casually across her shoulder walking toward the house. “But I’m going to miss you.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll probably see more of me after I move out than when I lived here. I hired a mover to stop by this afternoon to take some of the heavier boxes to my new place.”

  Mike nodded as they walked into the warmth of the living room.

  * * * * *

  The next morning she and her father sat at the breakfast table. Sasha felt a little misty-eyed knowing this would probably be their last breakfast together for a while. "I'm going to be leaving in a few minutes.”

  "I have a surprise for you. I've had your application approved and you can start work on Monday morning. You’ll still have to go to Mitch Jenner’s office so that he can talk to you, but that’s always been a formality."

  "Oh, that's wonderful.” The hesitation she’d had earlier about leaving vanished.

  "You really are enthusiastic about working.” Mike smiled after watching her response, “I guess I should have realized that earlier." He stood and lifted his brief case. "I'd better leave before I'm late for my meeting. Once you get settled in at your new place don't forget to drop in now and then."

  "You couldn't keep me away," her words trailed off watching him walk to the door.

  Sasha finished carrying a few things out to her car before leaving for her new – independent - life.

  At her new apartment she carried everything inside and unpacked in her bedroom. Her mind kept drifting to her new job. She noticed how her hands shook from the thought of such an undertaking. Why was she so nervous; usually she didn't let these things bother her? This was what she wanted to do all along, wasn't it? There wasn't anyone at the newspaper that could prove she and Mike Jardane were father and daughter. She had to stop procrastinating and not worry so much because independence was the most important factor in her decision.

  Two

  The following morning Sasha dressed in jeans, sweater and her comfortable boots before walking from her apartment. She looked across the lot watching a black car just arriving. She frowned realizing this was the same black car she’d almost wrecked at the intersection. Before she could reach her car, she glanced over her shoulder at the man getting out.

  His back was to her as he leaned inside to get something out of the front seat. She turned her head and speeded up hoping to reach her car before he turned around. From the corner of her eye, she saw his head shifting in her direction.

  "Hold on a minute," he called out, his crisp voice commanding in the morning stillness.

  She couldn’t move watching his long strides eating up the short distance separating them. When he reached her, she tried masking her unease by staring boldly at him. What surprised her was when he reached out and gripped her shoulders.

  "Who taught you how to drive?”

  She felt his grip tightening on her and anger flowed through her. "Take your hands off me!" she demanded. In that instant, all thought for her personal safety vanished. But just as quickly, another thought registered with her. There was no telling what this man intended. Fear instantly replaced her anger. She held her breath awaiting his next move.

  His eyelids suddenly narrowed, "You're the woman I saw in the nightclub Saturday night."

  She couldn’t believe she’d made this much of an impression on him. While they stood facing each other in silent combat, she got a closer look at her antagonist. She studied his straight nose, the firm chin with a hint of a cleft and the full lips curved in a downward slant. His dark hair hung low on his forehead giving his face a roguish appeal. When her emerald eyes did finally reach his, they were bright with anger. The fear she’d felt for her safety quickly dissolved.

  "This is the last time I’m going to ask you to get your hands off me!”

  "What will you do if I don't?" Instead of releasing her, he continued to hold her effortlessly.

  "You'll be sorry!” she challenged.

  A surge of indignation swept through her when she felt him hauling her against his chest. She gasped as the air left her lungs on impact. When she saw his head slowly dipping toward hers, a frown covered her features. She wondered if he intended to kiss her, but she didn’t have to wonder long when his lips suddenly possessed hers.

  She felt his kiss wash over her. A million lights lit up in her head as she squeezed her eyelids tightly closed. The sound of bells ringing filled her ears and she wondered what caused the sensation. This wasn’t what she wanted to feel, but she couldn’t stop the tantalizing sensations. Eventually, she felt her sanity returning. She’d enjoyed the kiss too much and she didn’t even know his name. What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be allowing a stranger to kiss me so intimately. Aiming her boot, she felt him flinch when her toe met his shin.

  His hands fell away from her and he reached down to rub the sore area. “I ought to put you across my knee!” His eyes ran the length of her. “Dressed in your rebel garb again, I see.”

  Mitch discovered she had a quick temper. He found it impossible to look away from her smooth, creamy features. She had so captivated him that his thoughts whirled chaotically with no chance of stopping them. He shook his head to clear it and knew that striking out at her was the only defense he could use against the emotional sensations boiling away inside him.

  "There's no doubt about it. You have to be one of those young rebels who are always demonstrating over some cause or another. Isn’t that what the manager at the nightclub called your group? A bunch of rebels?”

  Sasha couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. How had he remembered what the manager had called them? Yes, in the past, she’d acted a little irrationally, but those days were behind her.

  "What are you talking about? I’ll have you know I work for a living." Well, almost, she added silently. "I don't have time to demonstrate."

  "You could have fooled me.” Mitch frowned, reaching down to rub the sore spot again.

  "You don't have the right to judge me!"

  "I guess you don't like hearing the truth, do you?” he taunted her.

  She didn’t care to listen to anymore of his insults. Swinging away, she quickly got in her car and fumbled nervously with the key.

  "I hope you watch where you're going this time," he called out to her.

  She spared him one quick glance and saw how he'd cupped his mouth circling those same lips that had excited her moment’s ago
. A quick desire to feel them again overwhelmed her, but she pushed the notion aside. Sasha gunned the motor to muffle out anything else he had to say. When she ventured a glance in the mirror, she saw him standing in the same spot watching her. She deliberately spun around the corner with tires screeching. Once she lost sight of him, she slowed to a safer speed.

  She drove through the busy streets, and her thoughts continued to dwell on the impossible man. Shaking her head to erase the image didn’t work: it wouldn’t go away.

  When she finished her grocery shopping and drove back to her apartment, she noticed the black car parked in the same spot as before. Apparently, he lived in the same building.

  While lying in bed that night, Sasha’s mind drifted to the next day. The thought kept pounding through her head that she had to succeed and prove to her father she’d left all her foolish activities behind. Come tomorrow, she’d find out the extent of her motivation.

  * * * * *

  On Monday morning, Sasha finished her shower and sorted through her closet, choosing a two-piece beige suit for her first day on the job. She slipped on matching high heels. As she glanced in the mirror, her thoughts were on how she appeared professional and not the rebel as the stranger accused her. Sasha didn’t understand the part about the interview since she already had the job, but her father insisted this was how they did things at the newspaper.

  At nine, she hurried through the revolving door of the building. She made her way to the receptionist occupying the desk in the lobby. "I’m here to see Mr. Jenner.”

  "His office is located on the fifth floor,” the woman pointed to the elevators across the lobby.

  "Thanks,” Sasha turned toward the elevator, her high heels clicking across the marble floor.

  As the doors slid open on the fifth floor, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. She made her way to Mitch Jenner’s office, took a deep breath and tapped lightly on the wooden panel.

  "Come in," she heard an attractive voice answering her knock.

  She pushed the door open and her gaze settled on the man sitting at the desk. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach; Sasha couldn’t believe her eyes. She continued to stare at the stranger that had given her so many problems the last few days.

  She felt she might as well kiss the job goodbye if it was up to him to hire her. Her mouth was dry, it was hard to form words. She felt like a fool standing, staring at him, unable to say anything.

  "What are you doing here?” Mitch stood and walked around the desk. He stared at her with narrowed eyes as he folded his arms across his chest.

  This was the first time he'd seen her since their disastrous meeting on the parking lot, but he felt the familiar upheaval her presence caused, turning his world topsy-turvy. He wasn’t sure he liked the sensation filling him.

  "I'm here to fill the reporter's job," she finally managed to say.

  “Is that so? Well, I'm afraid you're too late. I have someone else in mind for the position." Why had he said that? He already knew she had the job.

  "How could that be?” Her lips tightened and her shoulders dropped. "It wasn't available until today."

  "You don't have your facts straight.” His searching look didn’t miss how white her face became. Shame washed through him for putting her through this, but he couldn't help himself. He didn’t have an answer to why he kept taunting her. Another thought suddenly filled his head, I’d like nothing better than to take her in my arms and wipe away that look.

  "I counted on that job,” she murmured, interrupting his private thoughts.

  The heavy atmosphere between them bristled with tension. The seconds slowly passed stretching into what seemed like minutes.

  "If you're that intent on getting the job, I could reassign the new employee to the copy room," he said, again feeling foolish over making up the story.

  She didn't miss the stiffness in his voice. "Thank you for reconsidering," she said lightly, because she certainly didn't want him changing his mind. She had to hide any antagonism she felt for this man.

  "Go down to the fourth floor and see Mark Sanders." From the expression on his face, it looked as if he already regretted his weakness in not telling her to hit the road.

  "I will.” She backed toward the door and made a hasty exit.

  She slumped against the elevator wall, shutting out the annoying elevator music. The Mitch Jenner hurdle was out of the way; now she had to face Mark Sanders. She knew the meeting with the other man had to be better than the one she’d just had with Mitch Jenner.

  When she walked into the room on the fourth floor, she saw a man looking to be in his middle thirties sitting at a desk. He tapped away on an old typewriter, but looked up as she entered. She noticed how friendly his blue eyes were when they met hers.

  "Hello, I'm Sasha James.” She felt thankful she'd remembered to use her mother's maiden name, instead of Jardane.

  "And I'm Mark Sanders.” He stood and extended his hand.

  "Mr. Jenner told me to report to you for work.”

  "You must be my new cub reporter." He reached up and pushed his hand through a lock of wavy blond hair. "Welcome aboard, Sasha."

  "Thank you, you're very kind," she murmured gratefully.

  "You can use the desk with the computer. Now, me, I prefer my old rickety typewriter. Been using it so many years, I couldn’t even think about getting rid of it.” He smiled at her astonished look glancing at the machine that looked to be one of the first typewriters ever made.

  “If that’s what you’re used to,” she said with a chuckle.

  He smiled as he began explaining the job to her, his blue eyes noting her beige suit. "Wear something more comfortable tomorrow. A pair of jeans and a sweater will do around here."

  ”As long as it's all right," she said, remembering Mitch Jenner's opinion on her clothing in the parking lot that day.

  "It's more convenient to feel comfortable.” He picked up a folder and handed it to Sasha. “I want you to read these notes. Check out how I’ve worded the story.”

  "Okay," she answered, lifting the first sheet and scanning the contents. "This is very good."

  “It takes practice, but you’ll catch on.”

  “Will I have a chance to write a story?” Excitement stirred in her.

  "Of course, you will. Just let me know when you've finished reading."

  Sasha became so engrossed in the articles, she lost track of the time. The only sounds in the room were the occasional tapping of the keys on Mark's typewriter and the ticking clock. When he touched her shoulder, she looked up in surprise.

  "Let's go around the corner and grab a bite to eat.”

  "Where did the time go?" she asked, neatly stacking her work on the desk.

  * * * * *

  Right after lunch, Mark received a call about a story across town. Sasha grabbed her handbag and followed him to his car. When they returned, Mark handed Sasha his notes. “I want to see what you can do with the story.”

  “Oh, thanks, Mark,” she said excitedly, carrying the notebook to her desk.

  Sasha took her time and worded the story carefully. When she placed it on Mark’s desk, she was anxious, waiting to see what he thought of her first attempt at writing a story.

  ”Hey, this is good for a beginner. There are only a couple of changes, but they’re minor. Did you do any writing before?"

  "I majored in journalism in college.” She shrugged, “I guess writing has always been a passion of mine."

  "Well, this is good," he handed the copy to her with the two places marked.

  "Thanks, Mark.” Sasha felt pride sweeping through her from a seasoned reporter praising her.

  "As soon as you type it, you can put your name on the byline."

  Sasha was elated with the chance to prove herself as a reporter. Turning on the computer, she began typing the story.

  When she left for the day she was in a happy mood. She decided not to call her dad and hoped he’d read her stor
y on his own.

  * * * * *

  Mark’s phone rang the following afternoon, and after answering, he looked at Sasha. When he hung up, he gave her a grin. "Go upstairs and see the boss. Mitch saw your story and wants to talk to you about it."

  She rolled her eyes, “Of all days to wear my boots and jeans.”

  “Don't worry about it. Go ahead and get yourself up there before he calls again."

  She nodded and walked into the hallway. After a quick stop in the restroom to check her appearance, she stood nervously in front of Mitch’s door. She tapped lightly and heard him telling her to enter.

  When she stepped inside, his eyes swept her from head to toe. The longer she stood under his watchful eye, the more nervous she became.

  "Well, well, well," he eventually said, breaking the strained silence. "You adapt to any situation, even to being a reporter."

  This woman looked sexier every time he saw her, especially with the tight fitting jeans and sweater. He had known that first day in the parking lot that she could arouse feelings in him he didn’t know he possessed. He had to keep his wits about him today, before he gave away his secret thoughts.

  Sasha shifted on her feet, "Uh-Mark was a big help to me.”She watched his black eyes traveling slowly over her sweater and jeans again. Sasha noticed how his inspection lingered on the boots that had kicked him.

  "Dressed the same, I see," he said, his voice low and non-managerial. Mitch was irritated at his lack of control in looking anywhere but at the beauty standing in front of him.

  Sasha purposely ignored his reference to her clothing. As she continued to look at him, it occurred to her that he was waiting for her to sit, and she hastily slid into one of the chairs near his desk.

  "Was there something else you wanted to discuss with me?" She watched his bronzed hand move a stack of papers to one side of his desk. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his elbows.