look of disbelief was Cary Grant classic. “You’re my personal assistant and you’re saying no? You’ve always handled my personal business before. Isn’t this personal business?”
“No. It’s purely personal, not business. We may have developed a friendship over the years we’ve worked together, but you’re my boss, Shane. It’s time each of us remembered that.”
“You’ve done it before, Lindy. Remember when you got rid of Janine for me? She was almost a stalker until you took care of her.”
“Perhaps, but she was interfering with business by showing up at the pool house.”
“And how is this different from then?”
“It just is. Look at you. You don’t even know what happened to you. That’s not my job, Shane, it’s yours no matter how awkward. From this point forward I’m not going to be involved in your personal life. Period.”
Disappointment etched his beautiful features, and at that moment Lindy knew she’d spoiled Shane. Long before last night she’d crossed the line between professional and personal. She’d become his confidant, his problem-solver and his sounding board.
But no more. Not after last night. She had to redraw the line. She was tired of the one-way relationship. She gave; he took. And since a two-way relationship was just a pipe dream, it was best if she drew the line in the sand and put their relationship purely on a business level once and for all until she found another job.
Nerves buzzing, Lindy took another deep breath and attempted to control her inner shaking. “And while we’re at it, Shane, you need to realize that I’m not planning on being with you forever. I’ve got career aspirations. I want to use my degree, not just schedule your dates and buy them roses or a trinket when you’re bored and toss them aside.”
“You can’t be serious.” Shane’s jaw dropped open, his look aghast. “You’re the best PA I’ve ever had. You can’t leave me. I need you.”
Shane needed her. Lindy wanted to cry at that irony. How she wished this was true. She’d taken Psychology 101 in college. Shane really could do all the work for his foundation himself. No, Shane craved attention, not her. Because of his family situation, he’d grown up wanting someone to dote on him, the way she’d been doing the past three years as his personal assistant. That couldn’t be her role any longer. Not after last night.
Lindy forced herself to look at Shane. “I’m the only PA you’ve ever had and I am serious. You need to handle your personal affairs, even if you don’t remember them.”
The jaw she’d planted kisses all over dropped open again. “You really know how to kick a guy when he’s down.” He winced, as if a headache had returned. “Happy birthday, Shane. Find out yourself who you did last night. By the way, I’m leaving.”
“You’re sounding like a spoiled brat,” Lindy said.
Shane blinked. “Only you can take such liberties and call me that.”
“But I’m right.”
He exhaled slowly. “Yes. You’re right I have no excuse except to say that this weekend has me out of sorts. Your news on top of the fact that I have this nagging suspicion that something happened is simply not making for a good day.”
Lindy cringed. She’d been raised to be honest and it went against her grain to tell even a small white lie. But she had no better alternative. In this case, the cliché did not fit. The truth would not set her free.
“Look Shane, maybe nothing happened. Maybe it was a gag. Did you ever think of that? That someone just pinched you really hard on your neck.”
Shane’s jaw set and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “I know you dislike my friends, but none of them are that juvenile.”
She suddenly felt like Kevin Costner’s character in No Way Out. Hiding herself while in charge of finding herself. “Shane, besides Marci and Dan, most of the people you associate with are a bunch of freeloaders or women who just want to be Mrs. Shane Jacobsen. Think about that for a moment. I mean, what do you do that’s real? Honestly, some days I don’t know why you need a PA. It’s not as if the work you do is time-consuming.”
“You sound like my grandfather, who also gave me that lecture earlier today.” Shane let the acrid comment hang for a moment before adding, “He also wants you to come to Easter dinner tomorrow night.”
Lindy took a cleansing breath. Because of Grandpa Joe’s earlier message, she’d had some time to prepare for this dilemma. “I can’t make it.”
Shane stared at her, that beautiful jaw again slightly open. He snapped it shut before speaking. “You’re killing me, Lindy. I don’t need any more bad news or the grief of showing up without you.”
“Shane, I’m your employee. Employees do not go to family Easter dinners.”
“I thought you were my friend.” Shane sat there a long moment. “I even shared my personal journals with you. I’d never before let anyone see what I’d written.”
He had shared with her, and early in their work relationship, Lindy, starry-eyed with love, had let herself get too close to Shane. Her stomach churned as she remembered.
In one journal, Shane had written about the pain of losing a girl he’d fallen in love with at camp, the summer between fifth and sixth grade. Their love had been that sweet innocent kind between two shy people who hardly talk, yet somehow they know they are meant for each other. How Shane had looked forward to seeing her the next year, only to discover upon his arrival that she was on the charter bus pulling away. Years later, Shane still remembered the way she’d pressed her hand against the dirty glass as she disappeared forever from his view.
Yes, Shane had shared his journals with Lindy, and that day one thing had become certain to Lindy—she could never compete with what Shane envisioned his perfect love to be. Lindy would never be enough—never be the one.
But she’d stayed at her job, mostly because she hadn’t had the courage to stay away, becoming daily too attached, falling too hard for the man she cared way too much for, who could never feel the same way in return. But last night she’d well and truly crossed the line, and it gave her a raw, untapped strength. She hated hurting him with her next words, but in the long run it was for the best that a space be placed between them.
“You don’t pay your friends,” Lindy pointed out.
Shane shook his head, sending his blond hair falling forward across his eyebrow. “That argument is weak, Lindy. Weak. I can see I made a mistake worrying about you. That’s something friends would do.”
He stood up, his features etched with frustration as if he’d bitten bitter fruit. Lindy’s fingers longed to smooth away the lines her words had caused. She knew she’d sucker punched him.
First his parents had forgotten his birthday, and now she’d effectively killed their friendship. But her one-sided relationship with him had to stop. She’d known him too long and knew he’d never find that elusive woman he wanted. She couldn’t keep on loving him and remain sane. She had to let him go, even if it was the hardest thing she’d ever do.
“I’m sorry,” she said as Shane put his hand on the doorknob. Even to her own ears her apology sounded
