Following Love (4 page)

“I need a change and being a lawyer just isn't what I want anymore, at least not right now. I guess you could say that seeing what the law and lawyers can do up close and personal, I don't want to be a part of that world anymore.”

Willamina nodded. She knew that there was something else behind the words and she was curious as to what had led to the stark change but didn't pursue it. “All that is to say that you are completely overqualified for this position,” Willamina added.

Dena smiled without responding.

“Well, as far as I can see you're the best applicant by far, so I'd like to offer you the position pending a background check, I'll have to run it by the owners of the company. They gave me complete control, but I still want them to meet with you.”

Dena smiled; all she really heard was that she'd gotten the job.

Willamina went on to describe more of the job's details. The position title was actually executive office administrator to operations. She, as the administrative assistant, would be directly answerable to the company's three owners. She would also be responsible to make sure that everything ran smoothly since the office would be under her total control, and that all projects ran on time and on budget.

They ended the interview with a hug as Willamina wished her the best, and Dena returned the gesture.

As she exited the building Dena realized that the smile she'd faked for so long actually outlasted the promise. She was happy and giddy and pleased with herself. She'd done it. She'd actually found herself a job.

The feeling seeped into her brain like morning sunshine after a miserable midnight storm. On her own she'd gotten a job, albeit less than what her degree might have offered, but nonetheless she was once again employed. Giving up her old life was one of the hardest things she had to do but there was no way she could even consider continuing in law after what she'd been through.

Aunt Ellen was right, getting back out into the world had definitely lifted her spirits. It had been a long time since she'd felt like herself. Well, maybe not so long ago. She suddenly remembered the day before and the construction worker, Julian, and the way her body reacted as he'd hovered above her, looking down.

Hot and sweaty from thinking about the encounter, Dena had taken a cool shower, until the water temperature spiked and she'd gone running downstairs in a towel only to run into him on his way up. The look on his face had no doubt mirrored her own. But she was sure that the inner burn she felt was hers alone.

There's no way that a man that gorgeous and built that perfectly could be single and unattached, yet she didn't recall seeing a wedding band. But of course that didn't mean anything. Forester hadn't worn a wedding band; he'd complained that his was too tight and cut off his circulation, and at the time confrontation avoidance was all she'd known. Now, of course, she knew better.

“Well, that's more like it.”

The man's voice, taking her by surprise, interrupted her private jubilation. Looking up, she turned to see her hunky construction worker leaning against a car, apparently waiting. “Hi,” she said joyfully, as if they'd known each other for years. But the fact that she was just thinking about him and here he was, was both startling and welcoming.

Julian's insides melted as the smile he'd so longed to see was amply rewarded. Bright and sexy, as he'd assumed, it nearly melted his shoes. She had a very definite twinkle in her soft brown eyes that tilted his stomach like a roller coaster on crack.

“Hi. We kind of got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”

“Nearly killing me can kind of do that,” she quipped, then watched as his expression darkened. “I'm joking,” she said quickly, then waited a second for his expression to lighten again. “So, were you waiting for me?” she asked still half-jokingly and still in an unusually good mood after her interview.

“Actually, I was, in a roundabout way,” he said shyly. “I saw you earlier and I recognized your car from the driveway yesterday. I thought I'd hang around to say hi and, of course, I wanted to apologize again for the sledgehammer and running up stairs like that. I heard a scream and just reacted.”

“That's really sweet in a scary stalker kind of way.”

He laughed, making her smile widen. The sound was warm and inviting. Forester had seldom laughed at her humor.

“Truthfully, I had to take care of some last-minute business in the office and I noticed…”

“So you work here?” she asked, interrupting.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Really, I just interviewed.”

“As?”

“A temporary administrative assisstant.”

He nodded. “It's a great place to work.”

“You do construction here?” she asked.

He nodded. “And other things.”

“Like coming to my aunt's rescue?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other wordlessly, each half smiling for no real reason. The silence seemed comfortable then curious then odd then awkward. “Well maybe we'll see each other again, if the job comes through that is,” she said.

“Good luck, I hope you get it,” he offered, making a mental note to check with Willamina later that evening.

“Thanks. Well, I gotta get going. See you later.” She got into the car and closed the door.

He waited for her to start the car. She did, but as he suspected, the engine moaned and grunted like a dying beast then sputtered and choked. She tried the ignition a second and third time with the same results. She opened the car door and stepped outside.

“Sounds like a problem,” he said, having already expected the engine to fail. He stepped back and pointed to the greenish-black slick trail of shiny goop coming from underneath the car.

She wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“My guess would be oil.”

Dena followed and looked where he pointed. “My aunt Ellen volunteered to change the oil for me yesterday. I guess she worked on a few other things, as well.” She turned to him hopefully. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about fixing cars, would you?”

“Sorry, I'm afraid not, that's not exactly my strong suit. I can, however, call a tow truck then give you a lift home if you like.”

“That would be great, I'd really appreciate it.” She looked at her watch, noting the time, then grabbed her purse from the car and followed him. She looked around for the truck she'd spotted the day before or at least one that he might be driving. There was no truck in sight.

He walked over to the car he'd been leaning against and opened the door for her. She slipped inside easily, relaxing back against the smooth leather interior.

As Julian got into the car and started the engine she inhaled the aromatic spice of his cologne. It was nice. She smiled and chuckled to herself. “What?” he asked of her humored expression.

“Nothing. I guess I just assumed you had one of those big flatbed trucks you see on television commercials. You know the ones, a macho man's truck that can pull half the city and three tons of dirt.”

“Sorry to disappoint. I'll bring the truck next time.”

“I'm not disappointed,” she said as she glanced at her watch again.

“That's the second time you checked your watch. You gotta a hot date?” he asked, half joking, half hoping not.

“As a matter of fact I do, with a three-year-old and a batch of chocolate-chip cookies.”

He came to a traffic light and braked harder than he intended. “A three-year-old.” He asked, “Yours?”

“Yes. His name's Dillon, he's a cookie fiend and it's our little ritual every Friday night.”

“Ah,” Julian said, trying not to sound as surprised and disappointed as he felt. “I didn't realize you were married.” He glanced down at the left hand, still not seeing a ring or even an empty ring indent.

“I'm widowed,” she said, her voice strained and tense.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's been over four years ago,” she added.

“How long were you married?” he asked.

“Almost two years.”

“You were just married?”

“Yes,” she said, then paused. “He was killed in a car accident.”

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, not sure what to say.

She stared out the front windshield in a trancelike state remembering the night with crystal clarity. “It happened so fast. I barely knew what was going on. We skidded on a patch of ice and spun out. I was thrown from the car and wound up with just a few scratches. He was still inside. I watched the car roll over and over again. It was so loud and so fast. When it stopped, I ran to the car. I held his hand and watched him die.”

The mood went silent. Julian reached over and took her hand. She looked down at the tender embrace. It felt good, better than she expected. “Sorry I went on like that. It's the first time I've actually talked about it outside my—” she paused and took a deep breath “—family.”

“Hey, I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me. Did you want to stop and grab a cup of coffee or something?”

“No, thanks, I better get home.”

“Chocolate-chip cookie night,” he said.

“Yep, that's right. Chocolate-chip cookie night.”

“Want to hear a secret?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

“Your aunt makes the best oatmeal-raisin cookies on the planet, but I haven't had a homemade chocolate-chip cookie since I was about ten years old. My mom used to make them.” What he didn't say was that she'd made them just for him and ever since she'd died, he'd refused to have another one.

“Really. Well, I'm going to have to do something about that.” He pulled up in front of Ellen Peyton's house and an awkward silence stilled them as he switched off the ignition. They sat silent for a few seconds, neither wanting the time to end. He got out and walked her to the front door. “Thanks again,” Dena said.

“Anytime.”

She turned to go in then stopped and turned back around. “Would you like to come in for coffee or something, maybe a chocolate-chip cookie?”

Julian looked at the half-open door and at the beautiful woman, but declined. “I'll take a rain check.”

She nodded. “Okay, good night.”

He nodded and waited the few seconds it took for her to enter and close the door behind her. Julian moaned as soon as he got back into the car. An attractive woman with a child. Would he never learn? It was his ex-wife all over again.

He drove down the street shaking his head. What was he thinking? He was about to fall into the same trap all over again. Correcting himself, he made a mental note to ask Willamina not to consider Dena for the job. Having her around would definitely work against his pledge of celibacy.

It was her vulnerability that moved him. When she'd told him about her husband, there was something in her voice that touched him. He could very easily see himself consoling her. And he couldn't go there. But he didn't want her hurt, either. So the least he could do was find her other employment, hopefully as far away from him as possible.

If she needed a job so badly he'd ask one of his friends in the city to hire her, anything as long as she wasn't working near him. In the past two days he bumped into her three times and each time his body reacted.

He nodded, the decision had been made. First thing Monday morning he'd set his life back on course again. But for right now, thanks to Dena, he needed an ice-cold shower again.

“Y
ou hired her?” Julian asked.

“Of course we hired her. She came highly recommended.”

“A glowing recommendation from Mrs. Peyton about her niece isn't exactly impartial,” Julian said.

“Willamina liked her, that's all I needed,” Jordan said. The three of them knew firsthand of Willamina's unparalleled judgment. She was demanding, a perfectionist and nearly impossible to please, particularly when she was pregnant. And having unceremoniously dismissed three previous candidates for the job, it was a miracle that anyone else would even apply. “She actually called me Friday evening at the beach house and raved about Dena. She even faxed me her résumé.”

Darius nodded. “I got the same phone call on the boat. Have you seen her credentials? She has a law degree and a master's degree in criminal and child psychology. She clerked with superior court Judge Hughes after graduation then worked in family court, then legal aid and has an impeccable record. I spoke to his assistant this morning. She said that Dena was brilliant and that the judge adored her. She even sent over a copy of the judge's personal recommendation.”

“She's a lawyer?” Julian asked, having had no idea.

“Looks like,” Jordan answered.

“So why isn't she practicing law somewhere?” he asked.

“She did,” Jordan said as he picked up the résumé lying on the desk. “She's even connected to some extremely prestigious law firm in the city.” He scanned the résumé, “Here it is, Graham, Whitman & Morris. I wonder if the Graham is a relative.”

“She told Willamina that she wanted to go in another direction,” Darius said. “That works for me. Having someone with legal experience on the books is a bonus as far as I'm concerned. She's definitely an asset.”

“But what does that mean, she wants to go in another direction? Was she disbarred or something?” Julian asked offhandedly. Jordan and Darius looked at each other, not knowing the answer. The question hadn't even occurred to them. “Well?” he prompted. “Would she be legally obligated to list disbarment on her résumé?”

“I don't care. She's perfect for this position and she has the job as far as I'm concerned,” Jordan said.

“I agree,” Darius added. “The administrative assistant position doesn't have a legal prerequisite. What she brings to the table is a bonus. And somehow I doubt she was disbarred, she doesn't seem the duplicitous type.”

“What makes you so sure?” Julian asked.

Darius and Jordan looked at each other again, knowing of course Julian's drama with women. “Because your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw her on the escalator Friday evening. It was only right that we ease your pain and hire her.”

“Not funny,” Julian said flatly.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Tell her that it was a mistake.”

“You mean, fire her before she even starts? Isn't that a bit of an overreaction, not to mention probably cause for litigation? And perfect that she's a lawyer, she can handle her own case against us.”

The three brothers went silent for a moment until Jordan spoke up. “Maybe I'll put on the old charm and…”

“Don't even think about it,” Julian warned firmly.

“Is she married?” Darius asked.

“No,” Jordan said.

“Already seeing someone?” Darius asked. Julian looked up with interest.

“She's not,” Jordan said. “I already checked.”

“She's widowed with a three-year-old son,” Julian said.

“Oh, that's perfect.” Darius began, “You suggest we fire a widowed attorney with a three-year-old son. I can just see it now.”

Jordan smiled suspiciously at Julian. “I want to know what the big deal is. I mean, we have women around here constantly. Why this one woman? Is there something we don't know?” Darius looked on with added interest as Jordan continued. “You obviously don't want me to pursue her, why so protective, Julian?”

“Good question,” Darius said as he and Jordan looked at Julian for a response.

“Okay, fine, don't fire her. Just keep her away from me. And you—” Julian specifically pointed to his younger brother “—don't you even think about it.” Jordan raised his hands as if to surrender at gunpoint.

“All agreed?” Darius asked. Jordan nodded, Julian looked away. “Two to one, she's hired.”

Julian looked at his two brothers murderously. Apparently they had all intentions of winning this wager by any means necessary and that meant putting as much temptation in his path as possible. “Fine, whatever, she's your call, you hired her, but I don't have to deal with her.” He stood and headed to the door as they began laughing. He turned looking at each brother as they began laughing harder.

“What?” he said tightly.

“Actually you do.”

 

Fortunately for Dena the weekend sped by in a flash. After a miserably sleepless night spent, to her surprise, on not-so-innocent thoughts of Julian, she was awakened early Saturday morning by a crew of three men who stopped by with a small backhoe to tear down the remainder of her aunt's cinder-block barbecue grill.

Her bedroom window was open and she heard her aunt talking to the workmen below, knowing of course that her aunt was probably giving them further instructions. She got up and peered out the window curiously wondering if Julian was back. He wasn't. She was disappointed.

She watched as two of the three men spoke with her aunt for a few minutes then they unrolled and showed her plans, presumably a new grill. The three of them conferred briefly then the men went right to work with as little disturbance to the household as possible.

Moments later a small machine driven by the third man rambled through the yard and she knew that it was only a matter of time before Dillon came to tell her all about it. She needed to get dressed.

As if on cue, just as she finished dressing, Dillon charged into her bedroom fully dressed in jeans, T-shirt, snow boots and his mini-construction-worker tool belt and hard hat. He excitedly went on and on, relaying everything he saw and heard, including the fact the men had waved at him. Then he announced that he was going outside to help them. Dena insisted that he have breakfast first and, after much debate, he finally relented.

Thankfully within the span of twenty minutes and before the end of breakfast, the five-foot, double-thick cement walls were reduced to a pile of rubble, then removed as if never having been there.

Dillon, who had gone outside, was devastated that he didn't get to help out. Dena, on the other hand, was delighted. At times his single-minded fascination with large machinery was completely beyond her. Whenever they'd pass a construction site he wanted to stop and watch. She didn't mind once in a while but lately it had become his determined obsession. Once or twice she'd actually had to tempt him away with a special treat and even then he was disheartened.

Maybe it was because there was no man in his life or maybe it was his way of connecting on some level to something she couldn't give him and didn't understand. Whatever the reason, she was determined to keep him as happy as possible by being both mother and father.

They read and sang and learned new words, but mostly he enjoyed anything related to building and construction, so of course the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him. He was the joy in her world and she couldn't imagine her life without him.

Without knowing it, he had literally saved her. And in return she had poured her spirit and her soul into his well-being and everything she did revolved around his happiness, even at the expense of her own happiness, much to her aunt's chagrin.

“They're gone,” Dillon said disappointedly as he walked into the kitchen and climbed up onto the first rung of the stool at the center island counter. His tool belt got caught and his hard hat slipped toward the front.

Dena glanced up from filling the dishwasher as soon as he entered. She looked at her aunt Ellen, who returned her smile as she followed him into the kitchen. “I'm sure they'll be back,” Dena said.

“Of course they will,” Ellen said, holding the rolled plans the men gave her. “These are plans for a wonderful new brick barbecue grill and patio we're going to build just in time for your big birthday party bash.”

“Really?” Dillon asked with renewed excitement.

“Really,” Ellen assured him while picking him up to sit comfortably on the stool. “This is going to be the grandest four-year-old birthday party this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.”

“What's the messy-dissy lime?” Dillon asked.

Dena closed the dishwasher. “Never mind about that right now, young man, I need you to run upstairs and wash your hands and face. We have some shopping to do today.”

“In town?” he asked hopefully, tilting his hard hat back from the front of his face.

“Yes,” Dena said as she removed the hard hat completely and unbuckled his tool belt.

“By the big building.”

“Yes,” she repeated, knowing exactly where this conversation was leading.

“Can I bring my hard hat and tool belt to help 'em?”

“May I,” she corrected.

“May I bring my hard hat and help?” he repeated.

Dena smiled and placed the construction gear on the counter. “Not this time, sweetie.”

“Aw, Mom,” Dillon moaned, and poked out his bottom lip to show his disapproval.

“Don't ‘aw, Mom,' me.” She lifted him to the floor and turned him to face the back staircase to the second floor. “Off you go, and use soap. One, two, three, four…” By the time she got to five Dillon was tearing around the corner of the island counter and hurrying upstairs. She heard his giggling when he reached the top step knowing that he'd gotten upstairs before she counted to ten.

Ellen shook her head, smiling. “He is such a darling.”

Dena nodded. “I don't know what I'd do without him.”

“God willing, you'll never have to find out.” She unrolled the plans and placed them on the countertop then sat down on the stool. Dena placed a trivet on each of three corners and a cookbook on the last then looked at the plans, as well. They studied the plans a moment in silence until Dena spoke.

“Wow, can they really do all this?”

“It's not exactly what I had in mind…” Ellen said as she frowned while running her finger over the details of the plans. “I really expected something entirely different.”

“Aunt Ellen, look at these plans, these are incredible. Look at this. They're planning to build a roaster, a grill, a smoker and an outdoor cookery. You've got to be impressed with all this.”

“Oh, I am,” she said, then sighed openly. “It's just not what I expected. It's so detailed. On television they had all this on the other side and a bit more counter space.”

“Maybe you can talk to Julian about making a few changes.”

Ellen nodded. “Well, it's not just that,” she said, sighing heavily. “I really had my heart set on doing it myself.”

Dena cringed inwardly as would half of Gilford County whenever Ellen Peyton had her heart set on doing something herself. “But, Aunt Ellen, I was hoping that you'd help me.”

Ellen looked up quickly. “With what?”

“If I get this job with the Hamilton Development Corporation I'll be working long hours and Dillon will need someone he…”

“Say no more, of course I'll be here for Dillon.”

“Thank you. Aunt Ellen, maybe instead of building the whole thing yourself, maybe you can supervise. I'm sure with your background you'll be more suited in that position.”

“Perhaps you're right.”

Dena nodded and smiled; the last thing she wanted was for her aunt to start mixing cement again. They were still chipping hardened cement globs off the washer and dryer and she still had no idea how her aunt got cement on the front porch ceiling fan. “Can I get you something in town?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” Ellen said. “My show, ‘You Can Do It, Be Handy Around the House,' comes on in about ten minutes. I just might get a few new ideas.”

“Is that really such a good idea?” Dena asked.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Well, maybe because you already have these great plans and besides, you don't want to worry about doing all that hard work, do you? Let the guys take care of all that.”

“Oh, I don't mind a bit of hard work.”

“Still, maybe you should let them handle it.”

“What do you mean?”

Dena sighed, summoning all the tact she could muster. “I mean, maybe it's a good idea to let the professionals handle this job. I mean, this one time.” Ellen considered her suggestion a second and was about to speak when Dena continued. “I have an idea, Aunt Ellen. Why don't you spend the day with us? Dillon would love to show you around the new toy store in town and I need to get some new office clothes. I know how much you love shopping.”