Fated to be Mine (5 page)

As I hang up my desk phone, I have a sudden urge to check my cell phone for any news. Not that I’m expecting anything. I mean it’s been pretty silent for the past three days so why would today be any different? Just because Kara says good things could happen to me today? She’s way too optimistic and I’m, well, the opposite.

To my surprise, I do have a missed text message. I open the app, wondering who it’s from. My breath catches in my throat. Holy shit, it’s from Andrew. He’s finally decided to reach out and ignore my request. Emotions war inside me, unsure if I should be happy or mad about this. I did ask for space, but I’m pretty sure three days and the Atlantic Ocean is taking it a bit far, even if I am the one who instigated it. You can’t get much more space than that.

With shaking hands, I open the message. Instantly my hand flies to my mouth as I read his first words to me in days.

Tessa, it’s been days since I’ve heard your soft voice. Please allow me to explain my actions from Friday. I’m not pleased by how we left things and I’m afraid there may have been a misunderstanding somewhere. I miss your face, your smile, your touch. I’m in agony. Please, love, let me explain. ~A~

My mind processes his words as I read them over and over again. He’s apologizing to me when I was the one who ran away, left him dangling on a rope without explanation? Wait, I’m supposed to be upset with him and whoever this Evie person is who was garnering his attention that morning. Was it just a weekend thing between them? Had he used her too and now that she’s gone he wants me?

It’s too much. My chest hurts and my breath is coming in short spurts. Pretty sure this is the start of a panic attack. I bolt to the closest bathroom and stand in front of the sink, staring at my pale complexion in the mirror. Why? Why me? Why now?

Can I say that I don’t feel the same about him? That I haven’t missed his voice, his touch, his smile, his … everything? If I wanted to lie to myself, the answer would be no, but I can’t do that. I can’t deny my heart’s feelings toward him when he puts his out there like that. To say I’ve missed him is a gross understatement. Andrew occupies too much of my mind when it’s not focused on whatever task is at hand.

Standing just a bit taller, I smooth my hair back into position and calmly walk back to my desk. I stare at the phone, wondering how to handle his message. Should I ignore it? Should I reply? I rub the spot over my heart and decide to think about it on my way to pick up lunch. It’s been three days. What’s another half hour?

As I step out into the brisk autumn air, my phone beeps again in my purse.
No, just ignore it. Don’t torture yourself.
How can I ignore him when he’s reaching out? And do I really want to? Every time my eyes close I see his beautifully sculpted lips, remember how he kisses me with the finesse of a gentleman, treating me like the most precious thing on the planet. I remember his hands, his arms, his body pressed hard against mine, driving me wild with desire and yes, even that stupid four-letter word which shall go unsaid again.

Being a glutton for punishment, I stop and lean against the building, pulling my phone from my purse, anxious to see what the message says this time.

Tessa, please answer me. I know it’s only been a few hours since my last message, but I’m desperate to hear your voice. I know you’re at work and don’t want to disturb you, but I must explain things. It’s killing me to think that you believe I do not have any feelings for you. Talk to me. Please, Tessa, I miss you so much. ~A~

A few hours? I look at the timestamp of the first message and realize he had sent it to me while I was making copies this morning for Kara. And now he’s reaching out, trying to draw me back in. Do I want to be drawn in again? The hole in my heart says it wants to be filled with the emotions that only Andrew can bring.

But I shove my phone back into my purse. Maybe after lunch it’ll be something I can deal with. With purposeful strides, I walk the short distance to the deli, avoiding any eye contact along the way for fear of something setting me off. I feel too vulnerable to the outside world at the moment.

As if the universe enjoys screwing with me, my purse strap falls off my shoulder while I wait in line, dumping the entire contents onto the floor. Loose change and various personal items spread like water along the tile floor. The ground can swallow me up any time now. Instantly, I drop to my knees, still mindful of the massive bruise from this weekend, and begin the tedious task of gathering every nickel and dime scattered about.

The guy ahead of me bends down and starts to help me, picking up pens and receipts and a few loose coins as well. He dumps them into my opened purse on the floor and I follow suit, thankful for the help. That’s when I look up and see his bright dazzling smile at me. My mouth opens to thank him, but the words never come out. A set of warm, brown eyes regards me, halting all thoughts of performing any necessary human functions. Those eyes are powerful yet friendly and crinkle slightly in the corners when he smiles.

He helps me stand and my eyes travel the full length of him. He must be some sort of businessman, dressed in a navy pinstripe suit, complete with matching navy tie. He’s young, maybe slightly older than me. His blond hair has a small wave to it like it’s just slightly overgrown from how it’s normally cut. All in all, he’s definitely someone worth giving a second look to.

“Thank you so much. I can’t believe I just did that,” I say. I shift nervously from foot to foot thinking Kara is completely full of bullshit now, saying that good things will happen to me today. Crawling across a tile floor on my hands and knees, gathering change and various other items isn’t what I would call a good start.

“It’s not a problem. We’ve all been there.” His voice is soft and kind, just like his eyes, as he speaks to me. But his voice is not the one in my head, the one my heart hurts for. Then again no one has
his
voice, the one that lights my soul on fire the instant I hear it.

“Well, thank you again.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my telltale nervous gesture. His eyes narrow in thought as we move up the line.

“You look familiar to me. Do you work close by?” My eyes are drawn to his long fingers scratching at his chin while his eyes stay focused on my face.

I nod my head. “Yes, I work in the building a few blocks away, at Mattson and Associates.”

His smile broadens and he snaps his fingers. “That’s where I’ve seen you. I work in the same building on the fifteenth floor. I believe you’ve been in the elevator a couple of times when I’ve been in there.”

Oh no. Please don’t say he’s seen me riding the elevator well past my floor. A flush creeps across my cheeks, causing him to smile even more.

He really is kind of cute when he smiles.

“I’m sure that’s a good possibility.”

The line shifts again and somehow he manages to move forward while still facing me. If I were to attempt that I’d be sprawled on my ass in two seconds flat. He holds his hand out to me, his eyes still hovering over my features.

“Michael Fontaine.”

“Tessa Martin.”

He gives me another grin and the lady behind the counter calls for the next person in line, repeating it louder this time. I can’t help the giggle that escapes as I point over his shoulder.

“I think she’s calling for you.”

Michael turns around and only then notices he’s next in line. Shaking his head, he approaches the counter and gets his order. Briefly, I appreciate him from behind, especially his broad shoulders and the way he stands so confident in himself as if nothing could ever bother him. I wish for that type of confidence.

I step to the counter and give the lady my name and she quickly returns with the order. Michael’s still standing beside me, making me slightly nervous as I move to grab my wallet from my purse.

“Here, allow me to get that for you.” He gives her some money, smiling politely.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shakes his head and I turn to follow him through the front door. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t want you to risk dumping your purse out again.” He gives me a wink and I instantly blush. He’s quite the smooth talker. Definitely a businessman, if it wasn’t already apparent by his attire.

We start walking toward our building, making small talk and casually getting to know each other. I learn that he’s not a businessman, but worse, a lawyer at Lyman Burns & Goldman. I’ll hold off my judgment for now. Perhaps not all lawyers are workaholics like my father.

Michael tells me that he grew up in Eden Prairie, went to college at Northwestern and got his law degree from Harvard. So on top of being an adorable lawyer, he’s smart as well. Now I feel insignificant at being just a lowly assistant with nothing more than an AA degree. Perhaps the pizza delivery guy is more in my league after all.

“What about you? What do you do at Mattson? Let me guess, senior executive?”

I shake my head and look down at my feet. “No, I’m just an administrative assistant to Kara Thomas.”

Michael quickly stands in front of me, causing me to stop and look up at him. Our building is less than half a block away and I can’t figure out why we’re just standing here.

“Hey, don’t be ashamed of your job. I’d be lost without my assistant. I honestly think she works harder than I do.”

Well, this is something new. Someone who doesn’t look down at my position but actually thinks it’s something worthwhile and significant. Okay, he’s not the first person and if I was honest with myself, there are really only four people who make me feel like my job is important. Everyone else doesn’t share that view. I flash him a weak smile and we resume walking toward the building, allowing him to usher me into the lobby as he holds the door open for me.

As we wait for the elevator to arrive, Michael asks me about my family, my least favorite subject to talk about, and I quietly tell him who my dad is.

“No way. Your dad is Assistant Attorney General Robert Martin? I’ve followed his career around the state for the past few years. He’s a shoo-in for Attorney General in the next election. He’s tried and won some of the biggest cases in the state.”

Great. Another fan of my father. Not that I can blame him. My dad is kind of a celebrity in his own right. His face gets flashed across the news channels almost weekly due to the cases he works on. Part of me is proud of him. The other part of me is still the little girl he left crying in the driveway, just wanting her daddy to come back to her.

“Yep, that’s him. I don’t know much about my dad really. We just recently reconnected a few years ago due to my parents’ divorce when I was little.”

Michael’s eyes soften more at the small tidbit of information I just shelled out. I don’t like too many people knowing my personal matter and I’m not sure why I divulged it in the first place. I guess I feel comfortable talking with him, like a long lost friend or something. Is it possible to have that kind of connection with someone?
You fell in love with Andrew in less than a week. Pretty sure you can find a friend in less than that
the snarky bitch in my head says.

When we enter the empty elevator, I’m immediately assaulted with the intense smell of his cologne. I would catch whiffs of it when we walked outside, but I wasn’t entirely sure it came from him. But now, standing here next to him, clutching the takeout bag for dear life, I know it’s coming from him. It smells good, but it doesn’t drive me wild. Not like Andrew’s, how it would wrap around me and make every nerve ending tingle and spark to life. Between his cologne and his natural scent, my body would go haywire. A much different reaction than what I’m currently experiencing with Michael. He doesn’t make my skin jump or my heart beat faster with just a look or a simple touch of his hand. There’s just nothing. And that’s okay. I’m not looking for anything more than a friend right now.

W
HEN THE DOORS OPEN ON
my floor, I gracefully step out, thankful to be back on home ground. He holds the door open, leaning against it with his shoulder. I extend my hand to Michael, who shakes it with a smile on his face.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Michael. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Tessa. And you can guarantee that we’ll see each other around.”

Michael winks at me one last time then steps back, allowing the doors to swallow him up and bring him to his floor. Well, that was definitely an eventful lunch hour.

Walking down the hallway to my desk, I glance over quickly to see if Kara is back. A sigh of relief flows through me as I quietly enter her office, taking note that she’s feverishly typing away on her computer and her phone is pressed against her ear. I always love watching her brain work a mile a minute. It just amazes me but also shows how she got to where she is now.

I place the salad and sandwich on her desk, just off to the side of the papers she’s studying. Kara glances up and mouths a “thank you” to me. Funny that she hasn’t said a word to the person on the other line. Kara is not one to halt a conversation if I enter the room. She carries on as if I’m not there, a real professional. But I find it strange when her eyes follow me out, still not acknowledging the person on the other line until I’m fully out of her office.