Page 9 of Tempting Eden

“Have you always worked at it?”

“No. I used to go with my first instinct every time.”

“What made you stop?”

Helen. I could see her then in my mind, her braids shining black in the sun, her eyes a mischievous brown. But I didn’t talk about her to anyone. Not anymore. Not even to Ms. Temple. Some things were better left undisturbed.

“Experience,” I answered instead. A half-truth.

“If your natural inclination is pride, why would you turn it on its head?”

“Natural inclinations aren’t always correct.”

“Well said.” She gave me a piercing stare. Her eyes tilted down a bit, as if she were looking at my lips. I hoped she was. She glanced away and took a sad step toward her office.

I instinctively stood and moved toward her. Her breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the smile that curled my lips.

My hands itched to wrap around her waist and carry her to her desk, but I stopped just short of touching her. “Can I help?”

She hesitated. I felt like she wanted to say yes, but stopped herself.Prideful woman. Her cheeks flushed a bit as I watched her. The rush of color brightened her features even more, making her look somehow younger.

“Um, nope. You’ve done enough. But let’s have the rest of my meetings in my office for the day, shall we? This ankle is turning into a real bitch.”

“No problem.”

She half hopped into her office and disappeared from view.

The next morning, I began spending more time in her office, taking notes on who to call, which vendors to choose, and what appointments to set up for the Belle Mar project. She charmed her way into the crammed schedules of various brokers, buyers, and vendors, despite the short time frame and her exacting requirements.

Around 10 a.m., and in the middle of a particularly long sales call, Mr. Fairfax flew into Ms. Rochester’s office, without knocking. His face was red and his hair wisping every which way.

“Frank, I’ll have to call you back and continue this conversation,” Ms. Rochester said smoothly.

“You do that. Looking forward to your call. Or maybe dinner sometime, maybe somewhere—”

Ms. Rochester hit the end call button and the phone went dead.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Her seductive sales voice was completely gone, replaced with ire.

“Emily’s been working on leasing commercial down in the Five Points. The new Windwood building.”

Ms. Rochester twirled her fingers in the air. “Okay, so?”

“The developer just called and said she took a tumble on the work site and can’t meet with some particularly big tenants who are flying in within the hour.”

“So you want me to cover her workload?”

“Yes. We need someone with experience, and you’ve worked with Willingston before.”

“Brad Willingston? I enjoy dealing with him about as much as I like my yearly gynecologist visits.” She kicked her heels up on her desk. Her demeanor changed in an instant, from winsome and friendly on the phone to irritated with Mr. Fairfax. “What’s my cut?”

He rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t do this as a favor? Or for Emily? I noticed you didn’t even ask if she’s okay.”

“If she landed on her ass implants, I’m sure she’s fine.” Ms. Rochester relaxed even further back in her chair. “Besides, you would have already said if she suffered anything permanent.”

Fairfax tried to smooth his hair, a losing battle. “She broke her arm in two places.”

I winced.

---