When The Lights Went Out.... Judy Christenberry
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Oh, yeah, like he’d cared. “The hospital would’ve been a good place to start looking.” She wasn’t going to let him think for a minute that she believed the concern in his voice.
“If you expected me to look for you, why did you leave without finding me?”
“Because, according to the nurse, you’d already left.”
“That’s what they told me about you.” His thumb, resting against the skin on her wrist, began moving in slow circles, all too reminiscent of his attempts to calm her in the elevator, and she jerked her arm away.
“I was there for three hours. I had a cut on my arm that needed a couple of stitches and they were busy.” Let him chew on that. She was pretty sure the best he’d had were bruises that required no care.
“You were cut?” he demanded, alarm in his voice.
“Stop it!” she said, louder than she intended, causing several people to turn and stare at them. If Kane Haley heard that she’d upset his biggest client, she’d be out of a job so fast, her head would spin. “Please, Mr. Waterton. I need my job. If we can keep everything on a professional level, I promise I’ll handle your work as you wish.”
“You think I’d have you fired? Don’t be ridiculous, I’d never—”
“If Mr. Haley thought you were displeased—”
“Oh come on, he’s not a tyrant. He’s a very reasonable man.”
Sharon briefly closed her eyes. Of course, he was. But she knew how important this job was to him. And to her. She gathered her strength and looked at him. “I’ll do a good job. Now, if you’ll give me twenty-four hours, I’ll have all the adjustments made and ready to go. Shall I bring them to your office tomorrow?” She prayed he’d follow her lead.
After a determined stare, he sighed and said, “No, I’ll stop by your office tomorrow. Or we could have a working lunch?”
“No, thank you. I work better in the office.” She stood. “Perhaps you could come by after you have lunch tomorrow, to be sure I get everything done.”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you leaving before Andy gets back?”
“Andy’s phone calls are never short, Mr. Waterton. I’ll let him know our coffee break is over.”
“Jack,” he said forcefully. The least you can do is call me Jack.”
“Of course, Mr.—Jack. Tomorrow.” Then she walked out of the cafeteria—and sagged against the wall when she was out of sight.
Now what was he supposed to do? He’d intended to apologize for—for making love to her? Hardly. He didn’t regret that. The loving had been the sweetest he’d ever experienced. Probably because of the adrenaline the danger had evoked.
But he hadn’t been able to forget it.
His sister had picked him up from the hospital and taken him to his condo because he had a flight out of Chicago that night. His parents had invited both him and his sister and her husband to visit them in Florida to discuss several investments they’d made and the new will they’d drawn up.
He hadn’t wanted to go, but his sister had convinced him they should. She had more faith in their parents’ love for the two of them than he did. It seemed to him that parents who loved their children wouldn’t leave them with nannies and baby-sitters all the time.
Anyway, he’d made his way in life. He was the sole owner of John Waterton Development Company, and it was in good shape. He didn’t want his parents’ money.
After those two weeks, he’d figured he’d need a reward for the suffering, and he’d lined up a deep-sea fishing trip with friends from college. He’d relaxed on the boat, letting the waves rock him, thinking about Sharon.
If, as he’d assumed, she was an innocent, swept up by the panic and fear she’d exhibited, he’d taken advantage of her. He’d thought about calling the hospital and asking them to check their records. But then he’d told himself he’d check with them when he got back.
Then this project had come up and he’d gotten swept up in it. At night, when he crawled into bed, he thought of Sharon. Thought. Yeah, dreamed, yearned for, craved. But come morning, he was back in the real world, running as fast as he could.
And there was Roger. He had been hurt by the man’s betrayal as well as angered. They’d worked together for over ten years. He’d thought they were friends.
Anyway, he’d neglected to make amends.
Then, today, he finds she’s his accountant. It all seemed a little coincidental, suddenly. A beautiful woman as a bean counter? Unexpected. A beautiful woman as his bean counter, one he’d made love to in an elevator. Unbelievable.
“Where’s Sharon?” Andy asked, startling him.
He looked up to find the man had resumed his place at the table. “Hi, Andy. Want me to freshen your coffee?”
“No, thanks. Is everything all right?”
Jack couldn’t help but smile. There was that hovering again. “Quit worrying. I didn’t scare her away. I’m not even sure that would be possible. She offered to have all the changes in place by tomorrow afternoon and offered to bring them to my office. But I’ll be out, so you’ll see me here tomorrow. Okay?”
“I told you she was good. She works too hard, though.”
“You mean she doesn’t slack off when she has a hot date the night before?” He hoped he might pry more information out of Andy than he’d gotten out of Sharon. Which wouldn’t be hard since he’d gotten nil from her.
“Nope, not even then.”
“What happens if she marries? Will she keep working?”
Andy raised one brow and stared at him. “I don’t think she’s that involved with anyone at the moment, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“Oh, good.”
“Are you married?”
He stared at Andy, surprised by the question. “No, I’m not.”
“Good,” Andy said with that serene smile that was beginning to irritate Jack. Then he added, his smile widening, “Just wanted to give as good as I got.”
“Sorry. She wasn’t very interested in casual chitchat. It worried me that she was so—so closed up.”
“Sharon doesn’t make friends easily, but once she does learn to trust someone, they’ve got a friend for life.” Andy pushed his chair back from the table. “Well, I’d best get back to my office and take care of the latest emergency. Let me know if you have any problems with the project.”
“I will, Andy, thanks.” He stood and shook the man’s hand. Then he followed him from the room.