“No need for apologies. You didn’t treat me any differently than a lot of the other kids in our class, better than most of the ones in your group. Besides that was 15 years ago. We were kids.”
Jon’s easy acceptance didn’t make her feel any less guilty.
“Have you kept in contact with anyone from high school?” Jon asked.
Maybe his acceptance wasn’t so easy. Had he sensed her guilt and decided to play on it? She wasn’t going to let him guilt her into giving him her promotion, if that was his plan. His open expression didn’t give any hint of that.
“My first couple of years at NYU, I spent the summers at home, but once I’d escaped the family dairy farm and Genesee, I was a different person. Everyone I’d hung out with was still fixated on Genesee’s football team being bumped out of the playoffs, where the next party was, and cutting down anyone who wasn’t in our clique in high school.” Kate pressed her lips together and felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. She sure didn’t sound any different than her old critical self. “How about you?”
“Dave Wheeler.”
Another math-science nerd, Jon had hung around with. A dullness in her chest underscored that she hadn’t been close enough to any of her high school friends for them or her to want to stay in contact.
“What’s he up to?”
“He’s a nuclear engineer out in California. I got together with him a couple of years ago when I was out there on business. Married. A couple of kids.
They reached Briarwood and Jon beat her to the door handle and held the dark wooden door open for her again.
The hostess approached them. “Are you here for lunch?” she asked before leading them to a corner table for two.
Kate pulled out her seat before Jon could, somehow needing to do that. “And you? Do you have a family?” She picked up the menu that she already knew by heart.
“Only if you count my grandfather as my kid, which is on mark a lot of the time. He had a stroke nine months ago. I left Boston to stay with him at his farm outside of Rhinecliffe, while he recuperated.”
“That’s why you left the private equity firm?” She placed her menu on the table.
“It was the excuse I needed to leave. While I love the mathematical challenges of financial management, I don’t love the stress and cutthroat atmosphere of large financial services companies. Just give me some numbers to play around with and leave me to them, and I’m a happy camper.” Jon grinned
Kate leaned back in her seat and tapped her splayed fingers to the table, remembering their shared love of math all through school and how in her quest for popularity in high school, she’d downplayed it with everyone but Jon.
“Then, as your boss, I have to ask you why are you working at DeBakker-Geld Funds?”
Their server interrupted to take their orders.
Once she’d left, Jon hesitated, unfolding his napkin before he answered, “To get some different experience before I start teaching in the fall.”
He dropped his gaze to the napkin and flipped one corner repeatedly with his forefinger, making Kate suspect there was more to it than that. She wanted to take his answer at face value, believe that he wasn’t a threat. But three years in the No Brides Club had taught her better, taught her to view any and all of her co-workers as competitors and to find the one chink in them that she could use in fortifying her wall against becoming too friendly with them.
“I’ll be spearheading the new financial management program at Columbia-Greene, as well as teaching math.”
Kate picked up her water glass, took a sip and placed the glass back on the table. “To be upfront, Bob dropped your hire on me unexpectedly. He mentioned your teaching, but I haven’t even received your resume from HR yet. Have you been employed since you left the private equity group?”
One corner of his mouth twitched up before he answered. “Yes, I’ve been employed, although not in the financial services area.”
He finished his answer with a full smile that made Kate marvel again at Jon’s transformation since high school. His aura of confidence. His decisiveness. The clear delight on his face as he finished answering her question.
“I’m running a small herd of beef cattle on Grandpa’s 200 acres, which is one of the reasons I need to catch the 3:10. I need to do evening chores.”
Kate stared at him in his perfectly tailored suit and tried to imagine Jon as a farmer. She’d grown up on a farm, as had a fair number of her high school classmates. And at a young age had decided she would not live on a farm when she grew up. In contrast, Jon had lived in town. His parents were doctors at a medical center in Rochester.
She sized up his shoulders, then dropped her gaze to his hands. Although his nails were perfectly clipped, Jon’s hands weren’t the soft hands of a man who never got them dirty. Nor were his broad shoulders those of a white-collar professional—even one who worked out regularly. They were the hands of a working man. She could see him as a farmer. That was the chink in him she’d been looking for.
Chapter 2
Kate Lewis. That had been a surprise, and not an unpleasant one. Jon walked from the barn toward the house, chores done, his mind still on his day in the city. In his wildest thoughts, he couldn’t have imagined that the K.A. Lewis in the directory listing HR had given him would turn out to be be his high school academic rival, sometimes nemesis, and major source of frustration for him through all four years. But that was all in the past. They were both different people now.
He shaded his eyes against the sun, and a picture of her sitting across from him at lunch, smiling at something he’d said flashed in his mind. He had to admit that he’d had good taste back then, even though he’d never pursued it. Kate had matured from a cute, albeit often stuck-up teen to a beautiful, poised, professional woman. He’d hold judgment on her personality until they’d worked together a while, although she’d been perfectly congenial at lunch. His neck prickled. They just had to co-exist as coworkers, colleagues. It wasn’t as if he was looking for anything more from her. Kate wasn’t his type. Nor was he looking at the job as anything more than the summer commitment he’d signed.
“Jon!” his grandfather bellowed from the back door of the house, blowing Jon’s thoughts from his head.
“Coming.” His grandfather’s frustration at not being able to do everything he used to before the stroke made him impatient. Much more impatient than the man who’d let Jon trail after him asking incessant questions as a small child when he’d spent part of his summers with Grandpa and Grandma.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Grandpa said when Jon reached the house.
“You were resting, and I didn’t want to disturb you.
His grandfather eyed the t-shirt and jeans Jon had changed into. “I told Dottie to wake me if you weren’t home when it was the time to do chores.”
And Jon had told Dottie on the phone to let Grandpa be if he fell asleep. Jon had heard him rustle around his room numerous times last night.
Grandpa went inside. “I suppose you have everything done.” He went down the list of things Jon had just completed.
“Yep,” Jon answered to each. “Dottie said she left supper in the oven to keep warm.”
Grandpa shuffled to his traditional seat at the head of the table while Jon carried the food dishes to the already set table.
“She’s been cleaning again,” the older man accused. “I can’t find my bills or check book. It’ll be May 1 on Monday. Things are due.”
“They’re covered. I still have the bills on automatic payment.” He and his grandfather had had this conversation every month, since his stroke. And Grandpa always declined Jon’s offer to stop the automatic payments.
“Not the barn loan. I always pay on that at the bank.”
Jon followed his grandfather’s gaze to the structure framed by the kitchen window. Being at the farm always gave Jon a sense of belonging, being part of a legacy. His mother’s family, the Dutch Meijers, who’d become Meyers, had farmed this l
and for more than 370 years. He clenched his jaw. And his mother didn’t care at all about that. She wanted Grandpa to sell the farm and move to some kind of assisted living facility for seniors.
“You’re good. I already paid what’s due for May…” and a good share more … “when I was in town earlier this week checking on the deposit from the stock I sold.” Most of the home equity loan Grandpa had taken before his stroke had gone toward replacing the old dairy barn with a more modern design for grazed beef cattle. Although Jon nostalgically missed the old red barn of his childhood, the new barn was state-of-the-art, exactly what they needed for the beef operation.
He lifted the lid off the skillet of fried chicken Dottie had made and breathed in the enticing smell. If things went as he planned, he should have the loan mostly paid off by the end of his work at DeBakker and Grandpa talked into letting him pay half of the payments after that as part of their partnership agreement.
“Let’s dig in.”
“Harrumph.” His grandfather speared a drumstick with the serving fork. “I still need my checkbook.”
“I’ll help you look for it after we finish eating.” Jon scooped a healthy serving of mashed potatoes onto his plate, but not without the familiar twinge of shame from his mother’s admonishments to watch his carbs when he was growing up—and out. “You’ll never guess who my new boss is.”
“How should I know?” Grandpa lost control of his fork, and it clattered to his plate. “I don’t know anyone in New York,” he grumped.
Jon’s chest tightened. “Kate Lewis. From Genesee.” He didn’t expect his grandfather to remember her, but it turned the conversation away from his grandfather’s finances and stroke-related limitations.
Grandpa grinned. “The little girl you used to complain about all the time?”
Kate certainly wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was all woman.
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember her.” Once again, his grandfather had surprised him with his sharpness and memory.
“How could I forget?”
Jon uncrossed and re-crossed his ankles under the table. Grandpa was probably remembering him as the brat who showed up on his doorstep shortly after high school graduation angry with his parents, himself, and the world at large. Jon flinched inwardly. He’d blamed Kate for getting “his” math scholarship. That award would have allowed him to pay his own way through college, with the help of limited student loans, so that he could major in math rather than pre-med as his parents insisted, if they were paying.
“The summer after graduation?” Jon asked. He’d been such an idiot to blame Kate when his anger was fueled by his immaturity and family problems.
“When you came here and went to Columbia-Greene for your first year of college? Nah. I was thinking back to when you were in first or second grade and you announced to any and everyone who would listen that you’d found the girl you were going to marry. That she was good in math and loved numbers as much as you did.”
“I said that?”
“You sure did. Pass me some more of those potatoes.”
Jon smiled, imagining Kate’s expression if he told her about his elementary school plan to marry her. He’d done his best to keep any romantic interest he might have had in her well- hidden once they’d hit middle school, as much to keep the guys from mocking him as to avoid her scorn if she’d found out.
“What are you grinning at?” his grandfather asked.
Jon told him.
“You didn’t ask for my advice, but that’s a bad idea,”
Jon had to refrain from chuckling at his grandfather’s earnestness. “I wouldn’t mention it. She’s my boss, and we’ll only be working together for a couple of months. I don’t expect to become that friendly. We weren’t close in high school. Dotty makes great fried chicken, doesn’t she?”
Grandpa grunted and Jon concentrated his attention on his nearly untouched supper to move his mind off Kate and the possibility of becoming friendly. Still. There’d been times. In middle school, the couple of summers when they’d both gone to a month-long math camp at Rochester Institute of Technology. His parents had driven them, since they went into Rochester for work. He and Kate had been friends for the duration of camp, at least. The same when they’d competed in the Mathletes competition in Syracuse as members from the Genesee County team.
He dug into his chicken without really tasting it. Even at college, among his fellow math majors, he hadn’t run into any girls … women… who found the joy in math that Kate had. Rather than their minds clicking as his and Kate’s had, he’d come away from the few romantic relationships he’d had with college classmates feeling as if he’d been through some kind of competition of the minds.
Jon swallowed his mouthful of chicken. His former feelings for Kate had been an unrequited juvenile crush. She was his boss. It wasn’t as if he was contemplating any relationship with her, other than work. He scooped up a forkful of potato he didn’t want. So why couldn’t he stop thinking and talking about her?
Kate hit the DeBakker-Gelm offices 15 minutes earlier than usual. She wanted time to center herself before she had to begin the day with her new assistant. She swiped her employee card and flung open the plate glass door. She’d thought she’d left Genesee and small-town life behind her years ago. Jon brought it all back.
The shade of the awning highlighted her reflection in the glass and her already creased pants. Why had she worn linen, knowing how it wrinkled? Kate frowned. The bigger question was why did she care? If a man looked rumpled, it was generally assumed he was working hard. She didn’t have any greater need to impress anyone today than any other work day.
“Good morning,” a familiar deep voice said behind her.
She let out a startled, “Yip.”
Jon caught the door she’d lost her grip on.
“You startled me.” Kate took in his cool, calm, and collected appearance. He could be an ad for Armani, although she had no idea what suit he was wearing. No. She had no need to impress anyone, but she couldn’t deny it. She had a want. A want she shouldn’t have. Jon was her assistant. She didn’t need to impress him with anything, except the fact that she was in charge. It was action not appearance that would do that.
“Sorry.” He placed one foot across the door threshold.
“Wait.” Her tone made the word sound like a command.
He stopped and looked around. “What?”
“It’s company policy not to let co-workers in on your employee card. For security reasons, we like to know who’s in the building.”
His lips quirked up in a smile that brought out faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “I haven’t even officially started my first day and I’m already in trouble with the boss.” Jon stepped back, let the door close, and pulled his employee card from his wallet.
The flush that colored Kate’s cheeks had nothing to do with the heat of her walk to work. Juvenile expressions of power weren’t going to win Jon’s professional respect, nor particularly earn her points with Bob. She waited while Jon swiped his card and reentered, still smiling. She dropped her gaze to avoid his, and it fixed on the bag in his left hand. Did he always carry a gym bag?
He raised the bag slightly. “I hope to make swim practice on the way home.”
“Oh, you coach kids?” A twinge of jealousy pricked Kate. With all the time she put in at the office, she barely had time for the No Brides on Thursdays, let alone any other social or volunteer activities.
“No, I swim competitively with the US Masters Hudson Dolphins.”
Kate lifted her gaze. That would explain his physique. That and daily chores. She sucked in her stomach and tried to remember the last time she’d hit the yoga studio. “You didn’t swim in high school.”
“I did, but not on the swim team. I got interested in competitive swimming at college.”
She allowed herself one more glance. If Jon had swum in high school, maybe she would have been interested. She turned her focus to the bank of ele
vators in the lobby. Nah, probably not. He still would have been a math nerd, and in her teenage immaturity, she’d worked hard at downplaying how smart she was to fit in with the popular crowd, while still earning the grades she needed to get more of her college paid for with scholarships and grants. Besides, her former shallow self would have categorized swimming as a minor sport. At their hometown school, football was king and basketball a far second, with any other sports also-rans. Still if Jon had looked like he did now back then …”
“Then, I flew up and made my landing on the top deck of the Empire State Building.”
Kate’s forefinger stopped a half inch short of the elevator up button. “Pardon?”
“Ah, you were lost in thought.”
“I’m afraid I was. I’m usually one of the few people here this early. I organize my day on the walk over and up to my cubicle.” That was true. She pressed the button. She didn’t say that’s what she was thinking about now. “You were saying something about the Empire State Building.”
“To get your attention.” He motioned for her to step into the elevator ahead of him.
He’d had her attention all right. Just not what he was saying.
“I was wondering about my office. Bob was going to show me after lunch, but he didn’t have lunch with us and I headed right to Penn Station afterwards.”
There was one empty office in the analytics suite. But she had a cubical, albeit a cubical on a windowed wall. Bob couldn’t possibly be giving her assistant his own office on orders from above to entice Jon to stay. The thought sucker-punched her.
Jon reached past her to press the fourth-floor button, which gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. One of the things she’d been planning to do first thing this morning before Jon arrived was to check her email for info on where Jon would be working, something she should have checked with HR Friday, since Bob had been out of the office.
She quietly sucked in a deep breath. Scattered was not an adjective people would be prone to use to describe her. Her phone pinged, and Kate pulled it from the pocket of her elbow-sleeved shrug. A glance at the screen showed a low balance text from her bank. She tilted the screen away from Jon and pressed her email app to see if there was an email from either Bob or HR about where she should put Jon. There was. The relief made her almost giddy. Or it could have been the close quarters of the elevator. She welcomed the whoosh of fresh air when the elevator doors opened and she stepped into the hall.
No Time for Apologies (The No Brides Club Book 5) Page 2
