Lawfully Yours (11 page)

I feel faint. The room swirls around me. Someone runs over to where I’m standing and pushes me toward the head partner. It’s Allen. “Go get ‘em,” he says. How my rubbery legs walk, I don’t know. But somehow I get up to the microphone and speak. “I want to thank you, the people in the firm, for your kindness, and help. I helped others because I wanted to give back.” I pause. “Most of all, I want to thank the man who hired me. A great teacher both in law and in business, Jordan Grant.”

I go back to my seat, award in hand. It’s a certificate written in calligraphy, shellacked onto a large plank of gold-bordered oak wood. It weighs a ton but I float ten feet off the floor with it anyway. The sound of the applause in the room has lifted me.

Dinner eventually ends. I don’t remember if I ate. The dishes are cleared and a disc jockey begins playing. The house lights dim. More red, green, and gold colored lights light up the room. People make their way to the dance floor.

I’ve been in too much of a daze to realize my tablemates have all deserted me. I’m enjoying sitting here alone, sipping my third glass of wine. Absorbing what’s happened tonight. How far I’ve come. It’s a pleasure to soak up the festive atmosphere.

I look up and notice with a jolt that Jordan’s standing above me. My heart flutters with hope. I try my best to clamp it down.

“Can I join you for a minute?” His voice sounds all business. Damn. I thought he was going to ask me for a date. My heart now sinks. Stupid optimism. He was probably toying with me before.

“Yes. Please do. Thank you for the award,” I answer formally. I’m doing my best to mirror his business tone. I’ll be damned if I look desperate.

“You earned it,” he responds cordially.

“So did your dates,” I quip. Whoops. Looks like this third glass of wine is doing the talking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rochelle and Melba seem to think they’ve won their own trophy. You.”

“If you want to talk about this now, let’s do it outside, okay?” He grips my elbow until I stand up and then steers me out of the room. We’re down a small side corridor near the ballroom when he speaks again.

“Sue, I’m going to ask you this again. Answer my question and stop fleeing every time the topic comes up.” He softens his voice and looks into my eyes. “I’m willing to admit I’m attracted to you. Very attracted.” I see him swallow hard before asking, “Do you feel the same?”

My stomach flutters. Heart pounds.

“It’s me who should feel awkward,” he says, voice rough. “I’m the one out on a limb. You don’t have to like me. But you do have to answer me. I didn’t press you before because I thought it was pretty clear that
you weren’t interested. Now I’m wondering if I’m getting mixed signals, or if I’m going a little crazy.”

I stand there frozen. Can’t speak. Can’t breathe.

“What about Melba?” I finally manage to squeak out.

“To hell with Melba. Why don’t we focus on you? Do you want to be with me?”

All control of my jaw is lost. It hangs there, open.

“To hell with this,” he says. He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. Then he leans down and kisses me on my partially agape mouth. A tingling sensation rises up like a deluge, flooding me. Filling my lungs. Denying me air. The kiss is strong, sensual. Before my brain realizes what I’m doing, my body knows—I’m kissing him back. Pressing harder against him. Letting him hold me closer. Breathing speeds up. Blood pounds. Time suspends.

He breaks off much too soon. Looking at me, he says with a smile, “You never were one for words.”

We force ourselves to return to the party before we get caught. I wipe my lipstick off his lips with my fingers. Then Jordan heads directly into the ballroom. I go to the bathroom. This time I really do need to go. I return to find Brad back at the table.

“I was about to check on you. Are you all right?”

“Fabulous, actually.”

“You look flushed. Too much excitement from getting the award, huh?”

“Yes, it must be that.”

“Would you like to dance? Everybody’s joining in.”

Still breathless, I nod, and join him on the dance floor. I want to float, not dance, but since I can’t be with Jordan right now, this will have to suffice. The evening is fun, pleasant, but I want it to end. I want to return to Jordan.

After an eternity, the evening does end. People filter out, me among them. Jordan catches up to me, seemingly casual, and speaks so quietly only I can hear him. “I have to take Melba home. I am stopping by your place after that.”

I stop walking for the second time that night, almost getting run over by those behind me. As discretely as he can, Jordan pulls me to the side of the corridor to escape the masses.

I speak barely louder than a whisper. “Jordan, you wanted an answer from me. I think you have it. But I can’t have you come over. I’m not ready for that.”

“Okay. I hear you, and I’ll respect your feelings. God knows I’m going a little haywire after that kiss, but I’ll do as you ask. You need to do something in return though. Answer me in words. Tell me what I need to hear.”

My head swims again. Knees tingle. “I, uhhh . . . I uhhh . . .”

“Say it, damn it!”

“I . . . I want to be with you.” I can barely believe it myself.

“Thank you.” He lifts his arm to stroke my face, but stops mid-air. Putting his arm back down he tries to shake himself out of our mutual trance. “I have to get Melba back to her house,” he says, straightening up to walk away. With that, we see her walk down the corridor toward us, coat in her hand.

CHAPTER 17

I go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Usually two drinks are enough to leave me feeling relaxed if not outright drowsy, so three should have put me out. But the alcohol has not calmed me. I’m wide-awake, reliving the night. On and off, I try unsuccessfully to keep my mind blank and to shut down.

Too soon the alarm goes off. I’m groggy from lack of sleep. Panicked at having to go into the office. Maybe I slept better than I thought, and all of last night was a dream. Hopefully for Jordan it wasn’t a nightmare. From the warmth of last night I now feel cold and confused. I drive to the office not knowing what to think.

I get there early. Actually, it’s late, past 9:00 a.m., but due to the party I’m the first to arrive. Sitting down at my desk, I log on to my computer. Then I notice a handwritten note taped to my screen. Jordan’s microscopic handwriting reads:

Sue,

Please see me.

It’s unsigned. The butterflies living in my stomach morph into bats.

I want to play it cool, let him wait for me. But after resisting for a minute or two, I head downstairs. If he was playing games last night, I wasn’t. If he’s sorry for what happened, I’m not.

The wing is empty and dark except for the light radiating from his office. I walk in, see Jordan typing away on the computer. “Jordan? You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Sue,” he says, swiveling around to face me. “Please, come in. Shut the door.”

I do, but don’t take a seat. So much easier to run if I’m already standing.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I wanted to get this out of the way as soon as you came in, so you don’t feel awkward about last night. I know how important it is for you to know where you stand, so I’m going to tell you.”

For the love of Pete, sum it up, is this good news, or bad? Why is he pausing? Is he stalling, afraid of telling me he’s made a mistake? That he isn’t interested in me after all?

“Sue, last night was special for me. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since Marty’s mother. I want us in a relationship, starting now.”

Thank God! But wait—don’t men hate women who are too needy? “Uh, what happened between you and Marty’s mom?”

“Sue. Why do you always do this? You leave me with my heart out on the table. You’re trying to change the topic to the irrelevant.”

“It’s not irrelevant, Jordan. I want to make sure I know what I’m getting into.” This is playing it cool, right?

“Getting into my arms, hopefully.” He tries to smile but looks frustrated with me again. “Sue, if you like me, stop fighting this.” Standing up, he walks over to me, then takes my hand. Holding it in his, his voice wavers. “Please stop fighting me. I’ve tried hard to enter your world but you keep shutting the door.”

“But I don’t want to get hurt,” I blurt out. A flash of unedited honesty.

“Neither do I. But I’m willing to risk it. I never thought I’d say that after my divorce, but here I am. To answer your question, Marty’s mother decided to hook up with another guy. I ended the marriage after that. I decided I was never again going to let a woman dictate my happiness because I wasn’t getting involved. I stayed focused on Marty, and business, and was quite content to continue on that way.

“As for your next question, to save us the time of your asking it, Rochelle was working for me during my divorce. After a few months she told me she wanted to get intimately involved and I told her I wasn’t interested. I was sure Rochelle was looking for a trophy husband, someone to impress her friends and family. Trust me, there was no temptation because I know relationships based on externals don’t last. I learned that from my marriage.”

I gulp hard.

“Then came you,” he says. “I knew you were different. You are so serious about everything. You can see past money, perceived power, and appearance. I knew if I was lucky enough to have a relationship with you, it’d last.”

He drops my hand and puts his arms around my waist, like the night before. He feels so warm, so comforting. “Seeing you that first time at the bookstore, even then I knew you had everything I wanted in a woman.”

Liquefied bliss coursing through veins.

“Except for your nutty clothes and tremendous klutziness,” he adds with a grin.

I blanch.

He laughs. “Seriously, Sue, I could tell straight off you’re a special person. You were observant to have found the shoe. Kind to retrieve it for Marty. You even tried to help me, despite my gruffness.”

“So you did like me,” I say slowly. “Because you didn’t look too happy.”

“Getting a cup of hot tea dumped all over me wasn’t ideal, no,” he says, laughing again.

Still mortified by the memory, I manage only half a smile.

“And, given my divorce,” he continues more seriously, “meeting someone like you was the last thing I wanted to happen.” He takes my hand again. Lifting it up to his lips he softly kisses it. Slowly. Gently. “After I got to know you, I learned things about you that made you even more attractive. You value relationships. You’re smart. You speak your mind. It quickly became more than wanting to work with you. It became my wanting to be with you.”

He stops for a minute, looking as if he’s trying to decide upon his next words. “Sue, I might as well confess this. When you are in a room with me, I practically have to pull my eyes away from your face. It’s a terrible distraction when we’re working together.” He frowns. “I really am sorry about not making eye contact during our meetings. Not looking at you wasn’t much of a solution, was it? If it makes you feel any better, it did cost me the price of two hot chocolates.”

The hair from my face is swept away with a gentle stroke of his hand. Lifting up on my toes, I try to reach his height. The lips that I kiss are as soft as I remember. But he suddenly straightens up, and I stop. “It’s okay, Jordan. I know what I’m doing. I do want to be with you.” Leaning forward to kiss him again, he steps back from me.

“Last piece of business before we can start,” he says. “I want to protect your career here. Mine too. The less we interact in the office the better.”

He gestures to his computer screen. “I’m working on your transfer. Don’t worry, I’m not going to submit anything without your consent. But I do want you to go to Comm Lit. I called up Bill early this morning and he is very happy to have you. I won’t be happy letting you go. I’ll be back to the applicant pool again, and this time no pre-screening at Barnes & Noble. I doubt lightening can strike twice.”

I laugh. But he scrunches his face as he continues, “Another thing. At least for the time being, you will have to give up your ambition for a bigger office. I can’t justify creating one here in the wing if you’re going to be transferred to another section. You okay with that?”

“I’ll get over the loss,” I say, waving the notion away with my hand.

“If that’s the case, then I should also tell you Bill wants you to start immediately. I hope that’s okay with you, because frankly, it works for me. I’d like to start immediately, too. Are you free tonight?” He strokes my cheek with the tips of his fingers, and a tingling sensation shoots through me. All the way to parts I didn’t know could tingle.

“Yes.” Oh, yes.

“I’ll pick you up at your place?”

“Yes.” I start to give him my address, but he cuts me off.

“I already know where you live. One of the perks of having been the boss.”

I hear a click as Amber turns on the lights, a thump when she put her purse on her desk. Reluctantly I walk out to go upstairs, closing his office door behind me.

By the time I get back to my office the Comm Lit team has arrived. Bill gathers everyone together to announce I will be joining, effective immediately. Wide eyes and raised eyebrows appear all around me. I smile and say I’m looking to broaden myself and that I need a change. The group eventually seems willing to accept my answer. It’s a relief not to say much more. The group disburses and I catch up with Bill. “Thank you.”

“I should thank Jordan. This worked out great for me.” He winks and disappears.

How much exactly did Jordan tell him?

I’m in my own world the whole day. Fortunately it is spent doing brainless work like closing out Jordan’s files and opening Bill’s new ones so I don’t have to force myself to think. Leila speaks to me when I’m in a daze so deep I don’t even hear her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice thick with concern.

“Huh? What? Oh, yes, I’m fine, really.”

“Good.” Leila’s eyebrows are still furrowed. Something’s coming for sure.

“You’re not happy to work with me?” I joke, trying to lighten her mood.

“Of course. But why didn’t you tell me you were going to transfer?” She sounds hurt.

Damn, I hate lying to her. No other choice though. “I’m so sorry, Leila. I do try to always fill you in on my plans. The issue of my transferring was recently brought up, and I was told to keep this whole thing under wraps in case it didn’t work out.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “Maybe I’m being silly. I’m sure you would have told me if you could.” She shakes her head and finally lets out a beaming smile. “This isn’t about me anyway, it’s about you. I know you’re going to be happy here.”

“Thanks. Good to know because I’m a little overwhelmed by all this change.”

“I understand,” she says sympathetically. “When I have a lot of upheaval it helps to know I’m making my choices for the right reasons. Take confidence in your choices. It’s because of them that you won last night’s award.”

Bill’s winking troubles me. Am I making the right choice?