by Susan Hatler
“You mean they work out?” Ginger scanned the room with a frantic expression. “Oh, the horror.”
I tossed her a give-me-a-break look.
Ginger giggled. “You’ve got it bad for this guy, don’t you?”
“You’re way off.” I straddled my legs, then leaned toward the mat. “Besides, it’s hard to think about dating when my parents might be getting divorced.”
She sat upright, eyes wide in surprise. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
I pushed to my feet, stunned to find myself eager to share with her. “My mom’s always been the responsible one, whereas my dad’s driven to play. But when he came home from hiking in the Andes the other day, she told him it’s over.”
Ginger glanced at me as we headed for the locker room. “That sounds so sudden. Were they having problems?”
“I’ve never heard my mom complain about my dad. Ever.” I pushed the locker room door open, and waited for a woman to pass by as she came out. “You know what’s weird? I keep thinking about something Kristen told me. That if you’re only doing one thing with your life and it goes badly, you crack.”
Her brows shot up. “Remind me to diversify.”
I shook my head, and dialed my lock combination. “Kristen thinks I need less work and more fun in my life.”
She held her hands out. “We’re going out Friday night. That’s fun, and totally non-work related.”
My fingers froze on the lock dial, and I twisted in her direction. “You’re right.”
I felt the smile spread across my face as I realized I’d achieved what Kristen had told me to do. I was having fun. Then my brows came together. She’d only given me one goal and now she was gallivanting around Italy.
What was I supposed to do next?
Chapter Six
I arrived early to work the next morning, to catch up since I’d left early yesterday. Well, early for me. I turned on my computer and clicked my mouse to check emails. There were a few letters from clients, one from Human Resources regarding the proper forms for vacation requests, and then my arrow froze over an email from Ryan Shaw dated today at 7:01.
He’d come to work before me? That was surprising. With a swift move of the mouse, I highlighted the email, then double clicked.
Jill,
See file for memorandum on yesterday’s Status Conference. I assigned a new client’s case to Scott Broderick. Hope you’re feeling better today.
Ryan
I tapped my finger on the mouse pad, and debated whether or not to reply. Oh, please. I immediately typed my response:
Ryan,
Thanks for your concern, but I felt fine yesterday. BTW, one does not need to bounce a ball to have a life.
Jill
Ha. Take that! Leaning back in my chair, a satisfied smile spread across my face—until I heard my computer chirp.
Jill,
Bouncing a ball doesn’t make one unfit to run a legal department. BTW, nobody scowled at me during the game. A refreshing change.
Ryan
My brows immediately came together. Realizing I was scowling, I tried to relax them to no avail.
Ryan,
Telling one they drive you insane doesn’t exactly evoke an urge to smile at you.
Jill
My eyes narrowed as I stared at the computer screen, waiting for his response. I knew how to have fun. Just because I took my work seriously, didn’t mean I had no life.
Jill,
You’re scowling now. Aren’t you?
Ryan
Argh! As I tried to relax my brows, I considered that Ryan could possibly be the most annoying man alive. Yes, he definitely was. My gaze fell to the desk where I remembered him pinning me against it, and the hot wanting look in his hazel eyes. I pressed my hands to my temples. “Stop!”
A noise rustled in the doorway. Sarah entered and dropped mail into my in-box. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Sorry, it’s just . . .” I closed out my emails, so she wouldn’t inadvertently see them. “Nothing. How are you?”
The phone rang but I let it go to voicemail.
Sarah eyed me suspiciously. “That could’ve been a client.”
I held my hands up. “You act like I’m work-obsessed, but I’m not. I’m a changed woman. In fact, Ginger and I want to invite you out with us Friday night.”
She blinked, then started nodding. “I like this new you. I’m in.”
“It’s a date.” As soon as she left, I swiveled back to my screen, and opened my emails.
Jill,
I’ll take that as a yes.
Ryan
Re-reading his email, I shook my head, but found myself smiling.
****
At exactly five o’clock, I packed up my briefcase. Leaving on time would prove that I had a life, and Ryan wouldn’t know I’d taken work home. As I squeezed files into my large briefcase, I suddenly remembered I hadn’t checked my voicemail. How had I managed a full day without checking voicemail? One vow to have fun and my methodization was all out of whack.
I shut my door, then pressed the button for speakerphone, dialed my voice box and tapped out my password. The first message rang out from Madison.
“Hi, Jill. It’s Madison McKenzie. I spoke with my partners and we want to bring you in next week for an official interview. I’m in court for trial Monday through Wednesday, so let me know if you’re free in the afternoon on Thursday or Friday. On a side note, my husband and I are going dancing at The Oasis tomorrow night. Trying to enjoy the nightlife while we still can.” She chuckled. “If you and Ryan aren’t busy, maybe you can stop by? I’d love to introduce you both to Dan. Look forward to hearing from you.”
I bit my thumbnail, then jotted down notes on my legal pad for the next several messages from clients. With my pen poised over the lined yellow paper, I listened as my mom’s voice filled the room.
“Jill, it’s Mom. Dad left me a message that you’re worried, but don’t be. I’m in Arizona. I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, and now I have. It’s breathtaking, honey. I can’t believe I waited this long to go. Not sure where I’m off to next, but I can guarantee one thing: I will not be calling your father. I’m sorry about your losing the promotion. Maybe you need a vacation, too. Call if you want to join me. Love you.”
My throat tightened as I dropped down into my chair, and gazed out the window. My mom had gone bonkers. She’d completely lost it. Was that what I was doing from working too much, too? Unable to stop them, hot tears slipped down my cheeks.
Why had I been passed over? Because Jim Shaw decided to hire his nephew when Personal Injury wasn’t even his department. It was Stan Corbett’s. The least he could’ve done was bring his nephew in to help with his own responsibilities.
Maybe I’d been taking the wrong angle, blaming Ryan. I mean, I’d completely overlooked the people who’d handed the promotion to him. My blood boiled.
Sure, Ryan had a couple years of experience on me, but I’d worked like a slave for Stan’s P.I. Department for five years. And this was how he paid me back? Dropping my head to my hand, my face crumpled, and my tears streamed.
What was the best way to handle this? I swiped my cheeks, and sniffed. There was no way they’d ever transfer the position to me now that Ryan was here. That much was clear. But I needed to feel respected as a lawyer—make that as a person. Grabbing a tissue, I dabbed under my eyes, and blew my nose.
Then, before I could change my mind, I typed up an email to Stan Corbett, requesting to speak with him privately. In the Re caption I wrote IMPORTANT, then pointed the arrow to SEND and double-clicked. A meeting with Stan to give him a piece of my mind. In a professional way, of course. I still had my dignity, and might need a reference letter. And I’d have until the meeting to decide what to demand as a consolation prize.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
My head whipped up at the sound of someone rapping on my door. I glanced at the clock, saw that it was after six, and wondered who co
uld still be here.
“Come in.” I clicked on the appropriate boxes to shut down my computer, before turning to see who’d entered my office.
Ryan strode in, wearing the same blue polo shirt and khaki pants he’d had on the day Stan handed him my promotion. Had that really only been ten days ago? It seemed like much longer.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “May I come in?”
“Nice that you’re asking this time.” I swiveled in his direction, remembering my resolution to take it easy on him and direct my anger toward the partners who’d sold me out. I folded my hands in my lap. “What can I do for you?”
He stopped by the side of my desk, then hopped up to sit on the surface, and turned to me. Leaning forward, he gazed into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I tilted my head sideways, worried I’d left a streak of mascara. “Nothing.”
His eyes clouded. “Is this because of the job? Be honest.”
“No.” I gave him a firm look, then sucked in a deep breath. “My parents are separating. I just got a voicemail from my mother,” I said, because I didn’t want to hound him about the promotion anymore, and also because it was true.
“Man, that’s rough.” His brows came together. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I nodded, then fiddled with a highlighter from my desk. “I didn’t see it coming. They seemed . . . fine. Not really happy, because their relationship’s always seemed lopsided, with my mom doing all the work.” When I got married, it would be an equal partnership. We’d be a team. Wait, since when had I started thinking about marriage? Had I slipped into PML?
“It was the opposite in my household.” With his legs dangling off the desk, he leaned onto his thighs, and peered over at me. “My mom had stayed at home, and seemed unhappy because she didn’t have any goals. I wish she would’ve had a drive in something she loved. That’s one of the things I admire about you.”
“What?” My life was in shambles, or hadn’t he noticed?
He gaped at me, as if I were crazy. “The fiery passion you put into your career. To help people, and make a difference. It’s more than getting by for a paycheck. You’ve invested yourself. Your dedication has impressed me from the start.”
Embarrassed and shy from his declaration, I twisted the cap on the highlighter pen. “If only my dad had some of that passion in him.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Finding balance can be a challenge. It’s good to have goals, but not to the point that you don’t really live.”
“Anyway . . .” Since he’d just summed up my past five-plus years, I had the sudden revelation I’d been insulted. “You didn’t come to my office to hear about my problems. Which case did you want to talk about?”
“I didn’t mean anything bad by what I said.” Shaking his head, he slid off the desk, then gestured toward me. “Stand up.”
My brows came together as I popped to my feet, checking my chair behind me for a spider or creepy insect. “I don’t see anything,” I said, then turned around.
He stepped forward, pulled me against him, and held me. “I’m really sorry.”
My first reaction was to pull away, but the feel of his warm (hard) chest against my cheek felt inviting, and I nestled into him. “You don’t have to console me. I’ll be fine.”
“But I do have to. I want to.” He tightened his arms around me and rested his cheek on top of my temple. “It kills me to see you upset. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“This is nice.” I breathed him in, then something tingled on the back of my brain, and I stepped back. “Actually, there is something you can do for me.”
He brushed a piece of hair back from my face. “Name it.”
Feeling shy, I lifted my lashes. “I need you to be my boyfriend for more than fifteen minutes. One more night.”
His eyes lit up. “Does this have anything to do with Madison McKenzie?”
“Yes.” I bit my lip, wishing he didn’t smell so good standing this close to me. “She’s going to this dance club tomorrow night with her husband. Since she thinks we’re together, she asked if we wanted to meet up with them. I was going out with my friends anyway, so you don’t have to stay long. In fact, you’d probably only need to drop by long enough to meet her husband.”
He raised his brows. “Just to be clear, you only want me to come for Madison.”
“You’re the one who offered to help.” I stepped back, reaching for my briefcase. “If you can’t spare time from your busy social calendar . . .”
Grabbing my arm gently, he lifted my chin. “I’ll be there. You can count on me.”
My belly fluttered as my gaze met his. “Thank you.”
He nodded, made his way toward the door, then turned back. “Anytime, buttercup.”
I gave him a grateful look in return, wanting to hate him for ruining my life, but finding it harder and harder to do so.
****
Friday night, Ginger, Sarah, and I arrived at The Oasis in downtown Sacramento a little before nine o’clock. In my black pants and white sequined top, Madison would have no doubt that Jill Parnell was ready for fun—thus balancing out the demanding position I wanted her to give me. And the whole supportive boyfriend thing would be the icing on my cupcake, too.
“IDs ladies.” A burly bouncer wearing a tight black shirt scrutinized our driver’s licenses, which I took as a compliment considering I turned twenty-one nearly a decade ago. I paid the cover charge, then ducked through the door into eighties night at The Oasis.
“When was the last time you came out dancing?” Sarah yelled over Duran Duran’s New Moon on Monday as she adjusted the strap of her green halter-top.
“I believe we had a different governor in office.” I scanned the crowded club for Ryan, who had texted that he’d meet me here around nine. I didn’t spot him, but the place was huge and had a lot of dark corners.
“Shall we get a drink before grooving with our hot moves?” Ginger grabbed my hand, leading me through the crowd, then we stopped at the edge of the dance floor.
“I’ll get this round.” Sarah offered, waving away the cash I held out. “Mojitos all around?”
Ginger smacked her lips. “Sounds delicious.”
“Be right back.” Sarah squeezed her way up to the crowded bar.
“Still thinking about Victor?” I watched the crowd dance under the colored strobe lights as the DJ switched songs to Tainted Love by Soft Cell. The familiar beat had my body itching to let loose all of this pent up stress from work.
“I broke it off with him.” Ginger slipped her arm through mine, then led me to the center of the wooden dance floor.
I wanted to cheer as I turned to my friend. “Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “I’m bummed, but not going to let him ruin my girls’ night out.”
“Don’t forget my fake boyfriend will be making an appearance.” Securing our spot, I swung my hips to the beat, letting the music wash over me.
While we danced, Ginger nodded toward a tall blond with a nice build. “Maybe I should ask that guy to dance?”
My gaze drifted down to his left hand where a flash of gold glinted off his ring finger. “Married.”
“Figures.” Ginger laughed, then nodded toward a guy with short brown hair, and a nice smile. “What about him?”
With my hands in the air, I glanced to my right. “He looks nice.”
She nodded. “I know, right? But does he seem like the kind of guy who’d ditch me when I need a date for a wedding?”
“Just ask him to dance and have fun,” I shouted, surprised at my own advice. Since when was I not worried about planning, evaluating, and making sure we didn’t waste our time on the wrong man?
Kristen’s advice to “just have fun” must seriously be rubbing off on me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but Ginger’s face lit up and she zipped off toward the brown-haired hottie.
Alone on the dance floor, I glanced around, and caught sight of Sarah waving me over. Our drin
ks were set on a round, chrome bar table. Fanning my hot cheeks with one hand, I lifted the Mojito with the other hand, and took a long, refreshing sip.
“Looks like Ginger met someone.” Sarah tilted her head toward the dance floor where Ginger and her dance partner were getting down to the music. Sarah scrunched her nose. “Now we just need a dance partner for me.”
I put my hand on my hip. “What do I look like? Soggy tofu?”
A slow smile crept across her face as she glanced over my shoulder. “Your dance partner just arrived. And, oh my. . . Ryan looks even better out of the office, and that’s saying something. I see why you smooched him on the dance floor at that wedding.”
Holding my drink, I turned around, and spotted Ryan coming toward me. Oh, wow. Sarah hadn’t been exaggerating. Colored lights flashed across his handsome face as he wove through the crowd, wearing a button-up shirt opened at the collar, and a knowing smirk that had me dying to find out what he was thinking.
Ryan stopped in front of me, brushed his lips over my cheek, then whispered in my ear. “You look amazing.”
A rush of jittery pleasure flowed through me, then my brows came together when I remembered he was just playing a part. “You can knock off the act. Madison’s not here yet.”
His eyes narrowed in a sexy way, and he nodded at Sarah. “If this is how she responds to a compliment, imagine how she’d react if I upset her.”
Sarah choked on her Mojito, laughing, then put on a serious expression. “Maybe she needs a dance to loosen her up.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He slipped his hand into mine. “Let’s go, buttercup.”
I wavered for a moment, then decided it would be beneficial for Madison to see us on the dance floor together. It would validate that I adhere to her theory of having a full personal life that releases my stress (yeah, right) so I can thrive better at the office. “Okay,” I agreed, shaking my head at the stunts I had to pull to advance in my career.
The feel of Ryan’s warm and slightly rough hand made me sigh, as he led me toward the dance floor. Were they rough as a side effect from playing basketball? I found myself wanting to know everything about him—even down to the little things. Not good.
