Page 4 of Tempting Eden

Jack obeyed and wrapped his arm around my waist, lifting me as I toddled along on my one good foot. He led me to my corner office and lowered me into my desk chair. Fairfax followed us, obviously highly amused with my current plight.

I motioned to Jack. “Put the binder on my desk. Send my shoe out to Lenny’s two blocks over for repair. Tell Len I want it back this morning. No later. If he gives you guff, tell him I’d be more than happy to speak with him about it. That’ll shut him up.”

Jack nodded.

“Fairfax, call Pilot as soon as you walk out of this office and tear them a new asshole over that grate.”

He tipped his head. “I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Tell them they’re lucky I don’t sue.”

Fairfax chuckled. “They’ll feel lucky enough already that I called instead of you. You scare them to death over there.”

“They’re lucky I don’t take this ruined shoe and shove it up their backsides.”

“I’ll tell them that for you, too.”

“Good.”

“Well, I’ll let you two get to know each other. Holler if you have any issues.” Fairfax left, still laughing at my pronouncements of lawsuits and shoe violence.

Jack didn’t acknowledge my threats. He was a man of few words and even fewer tells. What was he thinking? That I was a bitch, like all the rest of them thought? I could generally get a decent idea from most people, but he was a puzzle. His face, calm and angular, gave nothing away. His eyes followed my movements, though. He seemed to take in details. That was a good thing. Details were everything in my business.

“Why did Fairfax hire you? What sort of training do you have? Degrees?” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my hurt ankle over my knee to inspect it more closely.

He looked away, out the window that gave a broad view of the few skyscrapers in downtown Birmingham.

“I graduated from Alabama this summer with a bachelor’s and master’s degree in finance. I also—”

“How were your grades?”

“Summa cum laude.” He didn’t say it with pride. There was no chest puffing or faux self-effacing commentary. Just a simple fact. He’d gotten out with the highest honors.

Maybe Fairfax hadn’t totally screwed up this hire. Jack might be useful for the month he lasted. He was young, and green as a spring bud, but his grades said he was smart. Smart could get you a long way. Clever or cunning? Even further. A few years back I was just like him, before I’d worked and schemed my way to the top ranks of a multi-million dollar company. It helped that nobody had been minding the store.

The Thornfield CEO, Mr. Hurst, hadn’t darkened the office’s door for almost two years now. He’d retired in some sunny island nation and let the vice presidents and other agents do all the work, sell all the real estate, and keep him fully stocked inpiña coladas. I envied the bastard something fierce. But his absence helped me work my magic on his clients, getting their business and making money off every high dollar enterprise I could. Making money was the name of the game, and I had debts that couldn’t be ignored.

“Why come to work for me?” I rubbed the skin along my ankle; it was starting to swell and would be black and blue by the end of the day. I would have Pilot’s ass for this.

“Thornfield is one of the biggest real estate brokers in the Southeast. I figured it would be in my best interest to learn the business.” There was something in his voice. It wasn’t quite eagerness, more of a scientific curiosity.

“You don’t have any problems being an assistant to a woman only a few years older than you?” The question came out cold, like most of my words. I wanted to test him, needed to know if he could take it.

He seemed laid back to the point of almost having no reaction. Cool, thoughtful. But I sensed something, something under the surface, hidden. Or maybe I only wanted there to be something more to get a rise out of him. I tended to be like that. Poking, prodding, and pushing to the hard limits. Hence the month-long tenure of most assistants.

“None.” He met my eyes, no fear or apprehension there. He was steady, at ease. I hadn’t shaken him one bit.

I frowned. “How old are you, anyway?” My curiosity won out over the employee handbook restrictions on asking about age, gender, or any other no-nos.

“Twenty-five. How old are you?”

I wanted to smile at his boldness. He’d already shown more backbone than my prior two assistants combined.

“Twenty-eight. Why such a late bloomer? Shouldn’t you have graduated a few years ago?”

His gaze strayed back out the window. Though his face was expressionless, I felt like I’d gotten to him, if only a little, with the question.

“I wasn’t able to go straight to college after high school.”

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