Christine Flynn – The Millionaire And The Glass Slipper (страница 8)

“What about bad weeks?”

“Those are the ones that build character.” Or so her grandma said.

“Bad months?” he asked, and watched as her smile made it to her eyes. Something knowing shifted in those doe-brown depths.

“That’s when you need to find something to do that takes you away from your problems for a while. Whatever you’re dealing with won’t go away,” she warned him, “but for that hour or that day, you’ve taken away its power over you.”

The elevator stopped. Even as her smile fell away, the doors opened to a lobby crowded with office workers. Before J.T. could ask what sort of thing she would suggest as an escape, or what else had happened to her that day, she’d slipped into the mass of people grumbling about having had to walk the however-many flights they’d taken to get to the ground floor, only to now have to wait for an elevator to go back up.

He moved into the crowd himself, stopping a lawyer-type in a three-piece suit to ask what had happened to the power. The man told him that one of the building’s floors was being gutted and remodeled. A worker had apparently shorted an electrical line and tripped the building’s main breaker.

J.T. had barely thanked the guy before he glanced back to see if he could catch a glimpse of short and shining brown hair. He saw no one familiar, though, as he moved through the surge of people and out the building’s tall glass doors.

Frowning at himself, he stepped out into the early fall air. He was on the brick-paved transit mall. MAX, the commuter train, rattled by on its light-rail line. A bus idled at the light on the corner. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to kissing her. With her mouth inches from his, her scent and the feel of her coltish little body drawing him closer, he’d come within a heartbeat of seeing if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

Sweet. He’d never met a female he would have described that way.

He shook his head, plowed his fingers through his hair. He really needed to focus here. He fully intended to get to know her stepsister. Even if Candace hadn’t seemed to be an excellent candidate for the hunt, Amy wasn’t at all the sort of sophisticated, worldly female that normally attracted him. The sort of woman who’d developed a certain cynicism about the opposite sex herself. When he entered the game, he preferred an equal playing field. The young woman he’d just spent the past hour with probably didn’t even know there were rules. One of which had always been that a woman not get too close.

It occurred to him, vaguely, that the way he’d played for years might need to change. For now, though, all he cared about was that he’d caught himself before he’d done anything foolish. Circumstances had pretty much thrown her into his arms was all. With his first priority being to save his position at HuntCom, he had more to worry about than a young woman who possessed far more insight about his feelings for his backup project than he was comfortable with.

Amy hurried past a curved, Plexiglas bus kiosk, her arms wrapped tightly around her bundle of envelopes as she glanced back over her shoulder. She saw no sign of Jared Taylor on the tree-lined sidewalk. As tall and imposing as he was, he would stand out in any crowd, but he’d already disappeared.

She could still almost feel the strength in his hands when he’d helped her to her feet back in the office—right after she’d plowed into him and scattered files at feet. Just as she could almost imagine that same warmth filling her whole body when he’d held her in the elevator—moments after she’d practically crawled inside his jacket when the elevator had lurched. When he’d let go of her, the way his broad brow furrowed had made it abundantly clear that he’d wondered what on God’s green earth he’d been doing. At least he’d been gentleman enough to pretend nothing unusual had happened while she’d rattled on about having had a bad day.

She turned the corner to the post office, trying to shake off the entire unsettling encounter. She just hoped he wouldn’t say anything about her to Candace. She especially hoped he didn’t let it slip that she’d mentioned having to take care of her grandmother or make a comment about her having had a less-than-stellar day. The last thing she needed was to give Jill’s admittedly beautiful, undeniably well-intentioned daughter any reason to caution her about maintaining professionalism with their clients, or to give her a pep talk about what she needed to do when things weren’t going right.

Candace’s solution for everything was either a new man or a shopping trip. While Amy loved to hit sales, the home where her grandma lived had raised its rates so her budget had become tighter than ever.

As for finding herself a man, she was beginning to think she might be in the home herself before that ever happened. It seemed as if every female she knew was married, engaged, involved or on the mend from a broken relationship and had sworn off for the duration. Candace always had a man in her life. She went out more in a month than Amy had in the past two years. It was just that Amy’s obligations to Jill, the agency and her grandma—and the fact that her frequent visits to Edna seemed to be a turnoff for some men—had kept her from getting beyond a few first dates and casual friendships. Then there was what Candace called her totally naive belief in happily-ever-after instead of happy-enough-for-now.

She’d always wanted the fairy tale. She wanted a man she loved who loved her back. She wanted family to be as important to him as it was to her. She wanted to have children with him, to share with him, to grow old with him. As long as she was thinking about it, it also would be nice if the guy made her feel what she’d so fleetingly experienced with Jared Taylor. Even the pleasant sensations she’d felt from a couple of the more charming frogs she’d kissed hadn’t touched her in as many ways as just being held by that man.

For now, though, she’d just take care of the mail, hurry to the printers to pick up the copies of the family photos she’d had made for Edna with the hope of jogging her failing memory—and promise herself that the next time she saw Jared Taylor, she wouldn’t let preoccupation with her personal concerns embarrass her again. It had been worry about her grandmother distracting her when she’d so unceremoniously plowed into him by the reception desk.

Unfortunately, a little over a week later, that same concern had just compounded itself. She just didn’t have time to deal with that worry at the moment. Fifteen minutes before he was to arrive for his preliminary presentation, she received a reply to her latest e-mail request for a routine credit check on their newest client. Like the other companies from which she’d requested information, this one claimed no credit, employment or academic history available on an architect named Jared Taylor.

Professionally, the man didn’t seem to exist.

Chapter Three

“You can’t find anything on Jared Taylor?”

“Not a thing,” Amy replied. She set a glass of water and two vitamin-C tablets on Candace’s desk blotter. Candace had buzzed her moments ago, announced that her throat felt scratchy and that she could not afford to come down with a cold, and asked Amy to bring her whatever was available to fend it off.

Grabbing the glass, she downed the tablets. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she insisted, the moment she’d swallowed. “The man said he’s been an architect for years. There has to be a record of him somewhere.”

The Taylor file was open in front of her. Watching Candace’s frown slip to the colorful logos the team would soon present, Amy picked up the empty glass herself.

Candace wore a new black suit today. She wore black well. With her pale hair brushing her shoulders, the contrast was stunning. So was the suit. The short jacket was fastened by half a dozen short, narrow gold chains. Small gold chains linked the buttons at the cuffs. Amy had noticed earlier that the new black sling-back heels she wore were embellished with gold-toned buckles. The look was polished, yet with just enough of an edge to make others take notice. With Jared Taylor on her schedule, she had clearly dressed to impress.

Amy was more interested in undoing the impression she was afraid she’d made on him. Determined to appear totally professional herself, she had chosen a black skirt to wear that morning, too, along with a tailored white silk, French-cuffed blouse that she never would have been able to afford had it not been on sale. She’d thought about wearing heels, only to ax the idea even as she’d reached for a pair of black flats. If she wore heels, not only would her feet be killing her by noon with all the running around she did in the course of a day, but everyone would want to know what the occasion was. Since the only other appointments that day were with a client and vendors who were frequently in and out of the office, Jared’s presence would be the logical conclusion to draw.

No one knew she’d been stuck in the elevator with him. No one knew she’d been stuck at all. When she’d returned that afternoon, everyone had been buzzing about the power having gone out. Everyone had also seemed to assume that she’d already left the building and missed all the excitement.