Mine 'Til Monday (13 page)

“I accept,” Dorothy said softly. “I don’t know if I deserve this opportunity, Miranda, but I give you my word that I’ll do the very best job that I can for you.”

“I know you will, dear,” Miranda said, smiling gently. “You’re just the woman for the job.”

Dorothy returned to the little cottage in a daze, tripping over the slate walk. Coming out of the bright sun into the shade of the porch, she practically collided with Mud.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, stopping short and crossing her arms self-consciously in front of her.

“So how did things go with the angry dragon lady?” Mud inquired, bending to kiss the tip of her nose lightly. “Did she draw blood?”

“No. She, well, she offered me a job.”

“A job, no kidding? How do you like that!” Mud picked Dorothy up unceremoniously and swung her around with no apparent effort, setting her down only to hug her to him tightly. As the air rushed out of her she felt a rush of happiness nevertheless. “Hot dog, what did you say to her?”

When he finally released her Dorothy realized her knees were wobbly. “Do you think...I need to go in and sit down.”

Mud seized her elbow and guided her inside, nearly picking her up again in his zeal to help her to a chair. Dorothy accepted his help gratefully, breathing deeply as she settled into the chair.

“She says she felt responsible, that I never would have had to come up with this scheme if she hadn’t, you know, made it seem so important that I come with an instant family attached.”

Mud, kneeling next to the chair beside her, tilted his chin barely perceptibly.

“She knows what a deal she’s getting with you,” he said. “She’s no slouch in the brains department. I’m just glad she figured that out in time. When do you start?”

“When...whenever I’m ready, I guess,” Dorothy said.
If I’m ever ready
, she wanted to add. Now that the job was hers, she was feeling surprisingly ambivalent about it.

“That’s kind of a long face you’re wearing, considering you just sealed the deal,” Mud noted.

Dorothy looked at him, took in the fresh shave, the slicked-down hair, the white-tipped tennis shirt. Mud looked positively top-drawer. For her? Ironic, that only now he shed his laid-back threadbare look for her. Now, that it no longer mattered.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m just stunned. I’m sure I’ll be doing cartwheels before long.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“Do I?” Dorothy let her gaze slip down, no longer able to sustain his intense blue one. He saw things so clearly; how could he not see what really ran through her mind? How, more than any job on the planet, what she really wanted most was the very farce they’d constructed?

“I guess...these last weeks have shown me that there is a little more to life than balance sheets and boardrooms.”

Mud grinned, dimples quirking his cheeks and unbalancing his sophisticated look.

“Got you hooked on the sporting life, did I? Well, now that you’re such a hot shot, you can head out for the links any old time you want. Probably write off your club membership, even. Hell, I’ll probably have to offer to caddy to spend time with you.”

Dorothy’s fingers dug into her palms at her sides. Spend time with her. Did that mean he wanted to? Why did this have to be so hard?

“Actually, it wasn’t really golf I was thinking about. I’ve spent all my energy on my career, and with this new job I’m likely to keep doing the same. Everyone I know is, you know, finding more of a balance. Volunteering. Taking up new interests. Travelling. Getting married, starting families.”

There—she’d slipped it in there at the end. Holding her breath, she stole a glance at Mud.

But he sat impassively. Only the color of his eyes had changed, darkened a little. When he spoke, the jovial note was still there, if a little strained.

“There’s going to be time for all that stuff,” he said. “No sense obsessing about all that now—you’ll just tie yourself in knots. Seems like you need to put one foot in front of the other here, tackle one thing at a time.”

Dorothy felt the blood drain from her face, and stared resolutely down. Put one foot in front of the other? It wasn’t exactly a declaration or a commitment. No, not exactly.

“You’re absolutely right.” She stood suddenly, brushing off imaginary specks from her linen skirt. “Well. We’d better get packed up. I need to get home and put all this into perspective.”

Mud rose too, and suddenly seemed at a loss as to where to put his hands. There was little distance between them—too little, oddly. Dorothy edged back a little, rested a hand on an end table.

“I’m already packed,” he said. “I was just waiting for you. To, you know, say goodbye.”

Dorothy simply nodded, feeling a lump grow in her throat.

“I mean, I’ll call you tonight,” Mud added. “Maybe we can have dinner in a couple of days. I’m sure you need a little time to, ah, figure stuff out.”

Dorothy nodded vigorously. “Yes, exactly. There’s a lot here to think about. I’ll feel better if I get a few things down on paper.”

Mud reached a large hand to rest on her shoulder. For a moment Dorothy thought he might clap her on the back, but after hesitating, he leaned in for a kiss. It wasn’t fleeting, but as their lips met and fused together for a second, there was a new tentativeness to their touch.

“All right then,” Dorothy said, breaking it off. “Drive safe. And I’ll...look forward to hearing from you.”

“Right.” Mud tipped his fingers at her in a mock salute, and grabbed his duffel bag off the floor by the door. He turned to look at her for a second, but in the halo of bright sun Dorothy couldn’t make out his expression.

Then he was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

Dorothy gave the stack of fabric samples a last halfhearted brush with her fingers.

“They’re all lovely, Miranda, they truly are,” she sighed. “I don’t know how I’d choose one over another.”

“It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it? But I have no doubt that it will come together beautifully in the end,” the older woman reassured her. “Work spaces truly do take on the personalities of the people who use them. You should have seen this office back when it belonged to Walter. It was a regular no-man’s land—or, should I say, no-woman’s land. He even insisted on hanging up a few of his dreadful fishing trophies, if you can imagine. He’d have clients in and hold meetings under the watchful eyes of a trout.”

Dorothy smiled, glad for the small levity. Still, the warm affection in Miranda’s voice as she spoke of her husband only made the emptiness in Dorothy’s own heart seem even deeper.

“Has the office been empty for a while, then?”

Miranda smiled ruefully. “Yes, and I’m afraid that’s my fault. I had the place cleaned out after Walter died, but I’m afraid I’ve never had the heart to assign anyone else in here. Until now. Now, it just seems right.

“Listen, why don’t you keep the samples for a few days,” she added, before Dorothy could respond. “You certainly have plenty to focus on right now. Selecting new office furnishings can wait.”

Relief mixed with a twinge of guilt. “Oh, Miranda, I’m sorry,” Dorothy said. “I know you were expecting some decisions today.”

She rubbed her temples, her heart sinking at disappointing Miranda’s hand-picked interior designer, especially after she’d prepared such a beautiful presentation. Furniture, carpeting, drapery samples, accessories—the designer was prepared to turn Dorothy’s office into a showplace.

“I love the sketches,” she added, attempting to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. “I promise to have answers for you by Friday.”

“That will be fine,” Miranda said, offering a warm smile. Hesitating, she drummed her fingers absently on the table.

“Dorothy...” she murmured tentatively. “I know this must be a difficult challenge. Making this transition. It must all be a little...unnerving.”

“Oh, no,” Dorothy interjected. “I’m delighted to be here. Working with you, building Finesse, it’s been my dream for a long time.”

She blushed under Miranda’s frank scrutiny, knowing there was little the woman missed. Dorothy had built her camouflage well, covering her under-eye circles with makeup, pasting a bright smile on when she entered Finesse’s doors each day. Surely a little heartbreak should be easy enough to conceal.

“Still, you seem a little...that is to say, if you need anything...”

Miranda let the unasked question hang in the air between them, her brow arched ever so slightly, kindness softening her slight frown.

If only Miranda weren’t quite so intuitive. Dorothy managed a smile, realizing that if she’d harbored any hopes of putting one over on her new boss, the cause was lost.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she said, not meeting Miranda’s gaze. “I am a little tired, but really, I’m feeling fine.”

“Mmm.”

Miranda didn’t bother trying to hide the skepticism in her voice, but thankfully, she didn’t press the issue. She stood and gathered her briefcase.

“All right, dear, I’ll see you at the meeting with Marketing at 2:00, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Dorothy said briskly, flashing a smile as confident as she could possible make it.

Miranda closed the door gently behind her, and suddenly the spacious room was silent.

Curious how Dorothy hadn’t noticed until now how she longed for a little solitude. She glanced at her calendar to reassure herself that she wasn’t due anywhere for a while. Her first week at Finesse had been a whirlwind of meetings, introductions, financial statements and industry briefs. Now, the unexpected break in her schedule was welcome.

Even in its makeshift transition stage, the office was lovely. Dorothy’s laptop, briefcase, and files vied for scant space on a small desk that had been hastily borrowed from a vacant office, but Dorothy hardly minded the inconvenience.

Three walls of her ground-floor office featured tall windows that opened out onto the Finesse corporate campus. Mature trees shaded her from the sun, and a winding brick path came close enough that she could admire the colorful plantings and wave at the occasional lunch-time stroller.

And now she was, at long last, alone. She’d looked forward to this moment, when she could truly relish being here, in the job she’d wanted for so long. Dorothy pushed her desk chair back slightly and spun around to take in the early afternoon light. It was perfect, beyond even her most optimistic hopes.

Her new colleagues were bright, funny, and enthusiastic.

Miranda was upbeat, on task and clearly delighted to have her. And the numbers were, to put it mildly, stellar—Finesse was poised to have yet another excellent year.

So...why was Dorothy feeling so empty?

For a long time she sat still, fingers resting lightly on the arms of her chair, the sun warm on the crisp linen of her skirt.

A bird chattered its teasing song outside the window; somewhere beyond her door, laughter echoed through the corridors.

She knew, all right. She knew it in her heart, where there are always answers for those brave enough to search.

Mud was gone. Mud’s smile flitting through her mind as she tried to focus on a column of numbers. The ghost of his scent teasing her in an errant breeze through her open windows. And, sometimes, the memory of his hands on her skin, his lips on her throat—so powerful that she had to dig her nails fiercely into her palms to force herself back to the moment.

He hadn’t called. Not on Monday, when Dorothy broke the news to her supportive boss at Gilford Mills and called the dozens of well-wishers who’d long supported her ambitions.

Not on Tuesday, or Wednesday, Thursday or Friday either, as she wrapped up her work at Gilford Mills, always alert for the ringing of the phone, always disappointed.

Not over the endless weekend as she paced restlessly in her apartment, picking up beloved objects and looking at them without seeing them. Not while she ate takeout meals halfheartedly with plastic cutlery, sitting in front of television shows that didn’t register. She turned down invitations from friends, pleading over-commitment, to stay home and wait. And hope.

This week had been easier. There was so much to do that she could put him out of her mind, sometimes for an hour or two at a time. But now, in the temporary quiet, Dorothy saw that his power over her was not lessened. Not one bit.

I can’t let him be gone.

The thought gripped her, seized her senses. Dorothy had never been one to let fate make the rules. Why should she now?

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her phone, stabbing the numbers in as fast as she could in case she lost her nerve. She moved quickly, decisively, ignoring the thump of her heart. Mastering her emotions had helped her achieve her objectives before. Perhaps it would this time, too.

But as the phone continued to ring, once, twice, a third time, her determination faltered. It was a sign; Mud wasn’t there, the time wasn’t right. Pinpoints of relief eased her pounding heart.

“Hello?”

The voice, so unexpected, startled Dorothy into speechlessness.

A woman’s voice, low, sultry, full of smoke and indulgence and long nights. Dorothy’s throat went dry.

“Hello?” the voice came again.

“Yes. Hello.” Dorothy cursed herself, cursed the hesitation, the tremor in her voice. She felt herself retreating into her business self, the one venue where she was comfortable. “This is Dorothy Albright calling for Mud—for Dempsey Taylor.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman purred. “He’s not exactly available at the moment.”

“I see.” Dorothy considered placing the receiver down; hesitated. “Is there a time that might be convenient for me to call back?”

A time, perhaps, when he might answer the phone himself, rather than this intoxicating female voice?

She was rewarded with a short laugh, genuinely mirthful.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think he really has his mind on business at the moment. But I’ll let him know you called, I surely will.”

Dorothy muttered a numb thanks and hung up. She glanced outside. The bird was still there; the tulips still nodded their heads sleepily. But even though she kept herself still, so very still, two fat tears squeezed past her lashes and splashed down her cheeks.