Fooling Around (3 page)

People had thought he was insane back then—his friends, teammates, coaches, and mother all telling him that he was overreacting to the injury and his father’s death—but he’d done the best thing for him, despite all of their skepticism.

His instincts seldom steered him wrong.

Maybe his new idea now was a little crazy, but all of his instincts told him it was right.

So he was going to do it.

He brushed Kristin’s anxious questions away and said, “Shut up for a minute. I need your help with something.”

She ignored the tone, since she was used to it. She actually looked pleased to have something to do. “What is it?”

“I need you to find out who was with me in the elevator.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a woman with me. She came from the same floor we were on. I need you to find out who she is. Her mother just died.”

“The hospital isn’t going to tell me—”

“Well, find out another way. The funeral will be at Woodlawn Funeral Home. Just ask around. Someone will know.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” Kristin had long ago learned not to question the reasonableness of any of his requests. She just did them. It was one of her good qualities, whereas taking care of incapacitated people obviously wasn’t.

“Good. Thanks,” Eric said. His leg was actually a lot more comfortable in this new position. Why the hell hadn’t someone figured that out before now?

If he was going to make it through the next three months, then he’d need a different sort of caretaker. It didn’t matter that he had no idea who the woman was. He wasn’t going to let her get away.

Julie got back to her parents’ slightly shabby three-bedroom ranch house and collapsed into her mother’s old rocking chair by the front window.

She sat there, staring out into the quiet suburban street, for a long time.

She was too tired to work. Too tired to talk to anyone. Too tired even to cry.

Her laptop was on the desk in the corner. She had papers and online discussion posts for three classes to grade. The kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes, and she needed to start getting ready for the funeral.

She didn’t want to do any of it, though.

Marie was contacting everyone to let them know about their mother’s death. Not that there were many other people to contact. They didn’t have a large extended family, and her mother’s social circle had been small.

Julie tried to picture herself getting up, cleaning the house, arranging for the funeral, burying her mother. And then what? She couldn’t even imagine a life for herself now. The last six years had been spent devoted to her parents. With them gone, she had nothing left.

No job, no PhD, no husband, no apartment, no commitments. Just three boring online classes to teach, made up mostly of students trying to jump through another hoop to get their degrees.

She couldn’t summon up enough motivation to even get out of the chair.

She kept staring at a pair of socks, which she’d taken off last night and never put into her laundry basket. Her mother always liked the house to be kept neat. She should really pick up those socks.

When her phone rang, she assumed it was Marie, but instead it was Ned, the nice guy she’d gone out with several times a few years ago, before she’d become too emotionally drained for a social life.

She blinked at the phone for a few seconds before she finally picked up the call. “Hi, Ned.”

“Julie. I heard the news. I’m so sorry about your mother.”

“Thank you,” she said. She wondered who he’d heard it from, and then she realized that Marie had probably been on the phone for the last two hours, seeking sympathy from everyone she knew.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Julie said. Those socks were still bugging her. She needed to do something about them. “It’s hard, of course, and I’m exhausted. But overall I’m doing okay. We’ve been expecting it for a while now.”

“Yes. That makes sense. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. No. I think I have everything under control.”

“Okay. Well, I won’t keep you. Just let me know if there’s any way I can help. And after a while, when you’re feeling better, maybe I can take you out. I’m sure you could use a break.”

“Sure,” she said, surprised by the offer. Was he still interested in her, after so long? She couldn’t imagine why. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

After she hung up, she wondered about Ned for a minute, until she let him slip from her mind. He was a decent enough guy, and it was nice that someone found her attractive, but she’d never been very excited about him.

The socks were driving her crazy, so she managed to heave herself to her feet, go pick them up, and carry them into her room. After dropping them in her laundry basket, she stared around at the small room. There was a twin bed covered with a worn quilt and a cheap dresser and nightstand. A small TV rested on the dresser, and a lamp that always flickered on and off on the nightstand. It was a dull, ugly room, having been inexpensively redone as a guest room after she’d gone to college. When she’d first moved back home, she hadn’t expected to be staying long, so she hadn’t done anything to make it prettier or more comfortable. And later, when she realized she’d be here for the long haul, it just hadn’t seemed worth the effort.

Before she’d moved in with her parents, she’d been living in on-campus housing while she did her graduate work, because it was cheap and convenient. This room wasn’t any better than a dorm room. She wondered vaguely what it would feel like to have a place of her own.

At the moment, she couldn’t even imagine.

She opened the top drawer of her dresser and looked in at the collection of colorful, sexy lingerie. She’d been buying it for several years now, her one indulgence. She had lacy bras and matching panties and quite a few lovely gowns and chemises. Even though she knew it was silly, she’d kept buying pretty lingerie with any extra money she earned that didn’t have to go toward the household bills.

No one else saw it anymore. Just her. But it made her feel like she had a little bit of fun in her life, something to make her feel beautiful—even though she was the only one who knew.

She reached out to stroke the silk of one of the chemises. Maybe one day she would wear it for someone. She imagined herself doing so—her daydream self who did exciting things that she never could—but the fantasy faded quickly.

Her mother was gone. Both of her parents were gone. And she couldn’t even picture herself waking up tomorrow without someone to take care of, much less breaking out and doing something uncharacteristically wild and free.

Closing the drawer, she returned to the rocking chair and sank into it again.

She felt so bleak and lonely it paralyzed her. She was trying to talk herself out of it—trying to make herself do something constructive—when her phone rang again.

This time it was probably her sister, Marie.

She found enough energy to lift the phone and was surprised to see a number she didn’t know. She didn’t usually answer numbers she didn’t recognize, but she needed something to get her out of this boneless slump. She answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Julie Nelson?”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Yes.”

“This is Eric Vincent.” He paused as if she were supposed to recognize that name.

“Yes?”

“I was in the elevator with you earlier.”

That was why the voice had triggered familiarity. Of course it was him. That big, handsome, arrogant, rude man with the broken leg. “Oh. Hi.”

“You left the hospital before I could speak to you.”

“I had things to do. I didn’t think we were sticking around for hugs and kisses.” She wasn’t usually so snarky, but she was tired and his attitude had really bugged her in the elevator.

“I have a proposition for you.”

She blinked. Despite their unexpectedness, the words were just like him. No niceties. No small talk. No explanations. No apologies for calling a stranger out of the blue and interrupting her day. Just a blunt declaration, as if he had every right to make it. “A proposition?”

“Yes. I broke my leg two weeks ago, and I’ll be in a cast for at least three months. This is a problem for me.”

“I imagine it would be a problem for anyone.”

“Sure, but I have very little patience with people fussing over me.”

This didn’t surprise her. She waited for the rest of whatever strange proposition he was about to issue.

“I need a little help, though, for the next three months, and I need someone who isn’t going to drive me crazy.”

“And?”

“And I want you to be that person.”

She’d been rocking back and forth in the chair, but on these words she froze, tilted forward in the rocker.

“Did you hear me?” he asked, sounding slightly impatient.

“Of course I heard you. I just don’t understand what you’re thinking. I told you I’m not a nurse.”

“I don’t need a nurse. I have nurses. I have a PA who helps me with my normal daily stuff. I need a different kind of assistant for the next three months. Someone who will just help me out with getting around and making me comfortable.”

“Just how comfortable are you thinking?” she asked, her eyebrows arching as she thought about what this strange, entitled man might be asking her.

His voice was very dry as he responded, “If I wanted that kind of assistance, I promise I could find it easily—without paying for it.”

She had no doubt that was true. He was good-looking and gave off that confident, successful vibe. He was probably tripping over women who wanted him romantically, sexually, domestically. “So what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Be my assistant for three months. Just handle little things like you did on the elevator. Keep me from going crazy.”

She tried to think back to what she’d done for him. She couldn’t remember anything, except that she’d given him a bottle of water, since he’d looked so hot, and she’d adjusted his footrest after he’d bumped into the wall. Her mother had used a wheelchair for several weeks after her first stroke, since the paralysis had kept her from walking, and he had looked uncomfortable with the way the leg rest was set.

“So what do you say? I’d pay you well.”

His matter-of-fact tone brought her out of her thoughts. The man actually thought she would do it. “And it didn’t occur to you that I have a life? A job? A family? You think I can just pack up and work for you for three months?”

“I asked about you at the funeral home. They told me your mother had just died, and you didn’t have any other family commitments. I’ll pay you enough to make it worth your while.”

He was serious. He was absolutely serious about her tucking him in and mopping his brow for the next three months. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“I told you. I’m Eric Vincent. I played football for a while and then I developed a popular video game. Just Google me if you want more information.”

She frowned as she got out of her chair and went to her computer. The man was smugger than anyone she’d ever met. “I didn’t ask for your résumé. I don’t know anything about your character. I’d have no idea what I was getting into with you. I’m not in the habit of trusting strange men I meet on the elevator, you know.”

As she spoke, she typed his name into a web search on her laptop, and she felt a tightening of annoyance as she saw the list of results. The slick website of the sports video game he’d developed—one that even she had heard of. Dozens of articles about his selling to his partner and some other investors for almost two billion dollars last year. Hundreds of mentions of his athletic, entrepreneurial, and romantic prowess. A money blog speculating that his net worth was an astronomical sum. Pictures of him in uniform when he played college and professional football. A women’s magazine listing him as one of the sexiest bachelors in the world last year. A number of columns guessing about the new project he was evidently working on now.

No wonder he was so arrogant. The world apparently believed he could do no wrong.

“I can give you character references, if you want,” he said, sounding almost amused, as if she was being silly and old-fashioned. “You can talk to the rest of my staff. They’ll tell you I’m rude but not in the habit of taking advantage of anyone.”

“This is crazy. How much are you going to pay me to make it worth picking up my whole life to follow you around for three months?”

“What’s your yearly salary?”

Her yearly salary was a pittance. She made less than three thousand dollars for each online class she taught, and since she was an adjunct, the money didn’t come with any benefits. “That’s none of your business.”

“All right. I’ll give you a hundred thousand for three months’ work.”

She swallowed. It would take her at least three years to make that much at her current rate.

But being in the elevator with the man for ten minutes had made her want to strangle him. Plus, he was weird and obnoxious, and this whole thing sounded suspicious. “I don’t think—”

“Two hundred thousand.”

“I’m not negotiating for more money. I actually don’t want to do this.”

“Half a million.”

Who was this guy, to throw around those kinds of numbers? “You’re crazy. You can advertise for a nurse and get someone a lot more qualified than me.”

“I’ve had four nurses in two weeks. They’re not working out for me. I want you.”

“I don’t care if you want me. I’m not on the job market.” She’d always planned to teach history at the college level—a small college where she could get to know her students and wouldn’t have a lot of pressure to publish all the time. But she couldn’t imagine trying to get back into her dissertation right now.

“I bet you will be if I can get to the right number. Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Would you stop it with that? I said I’m not interested. I don’t like you.”

“You don’t have to like me. That’s not part of the job. I’ll pay you a million dollars for three months’ work,” he said, sounding businesslike and confident. “I’ll pay you a quarter of that immediately, after we sign the contract. I’ll pay you another quarter at the midpoint. And I’ll pay you the rest at the end of the three months. Now tell me, for real, what other job could you possibly do that would earn you that much money?”

There was no job. No job in the world that she was qualified to do would give her so much money. She wasn’t likely to earn that much in her entire lifetime, doing what she was doing now. Even if she managed to finish her PhD, she wasn’t likely to get a job even close to that lucrative.

It was ridiculous. Insane. This whole thing was unreal.

She didn’t trust it, although she was almost dizzy with the possibility. Paying off the rest of the medical bills. Paying off her student loans and credit cards. Buying a house—maybe near the ocean. Getting a complete restart on her life.

“It’s too good to refuse, isn’t it?” he said, an edge of amusement to his tone.

She was usually an easygoing, rather passive person. She was used to doing whatever it took to help other people. But his arrogance triggered something contrary in her. “You can’t just buy me off, you know.”

“I bet I can. For a million dollars? I bet I can.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Okay. Think about it overnight. I’ll call you tomorrow to get an answer.”

Julie suddenly remembered her mother had died this afternoon. The grief slammed into her hard, along with guilt for letting it slip out of her mind for a few moments. “Not tomorrow. My mom just died.”

He paused for a moment, and she suddenly understood that he had a human side after all. The reminder that her mother had just died had made him hesitate. Then he said, “When is the funeral?”

“Tomorrow, if we can arrange it that quickly, or the next day.” There was no family to fly in from out of state, so they could move fast.