Sugar And Spice (44 page)

Natalie shook her head. “He pays attention, Ang. Or at least I think he does. But after today, I don’t know what to think.” She rose, crossed to the sofa table and came back with the box filled with the nine gifts. “Remember this bracelet?” She held it up. “It’s made of poinsettias because I told him I used to love them when I was a little girl.”

“Oh my God. Really?” Angie cut in. “Then that’s definitely not zirc. It’s the real freakin’ thing.”

“See these star earrings?” Natalie continued, pulling back her hair. “I mentioned once last month, I think, that I liked to stay up late and watch the stars come out at night. Here’s a copy of the poems of Emily Dickinson.” She held up a book. “I have a quote from her taped over my computer monitor. And then, today, books.”

“Books? That’s what has you overdosing on ice cream?”

“Books for the kids at the shelter. All the ones I love to read to them. The shelter copies had been donations, and they were all worn and falling apart. He replaced each and every one. And then, he bought Jacob an autographed copy of an Arthur book.” She shook her head. “He’s paid attention, even when I thought he wasn’t looking. But then he went and told me Velma picked out all the gifts.”

“Velma? Honey, I’ve seen Velma at the vending machines. She can’t pick out a package of Doritos without help. She’s all left brain, Natalie.”

“Then why would Jake say she did the shopping?”

“He’s a guy,” Angie said, nabbing an Oreo and munching on the cookie. “It’s in his genes to avoid so much as the appearance of commitment.”

Natalie sighed. “Which is exactly the problem.”

Angie put her thumbs and forefingers together, forming a square that she squinted through. “I see you, as a vision in white, walking down an aisle.”

“Angie, just because he’s not dating Dena doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.”

“So? Rich men who take notes on what you like don’t come along more than once a millennium.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s George Clooney and Viggo Mortensen wrapped into one, with the Oscars and the paychecks. I’m done with having a half-baked life and half-baked relationships. And I don’t want to fall in love with a man who doesn’t love me.”

Angie patted Natalie’s hand. “I think it’s a little late for that, sweetie. At least have the fling, get him out of your system, and move on. Starting next week, you don’t have to see him anymore, right?”

Natalie nodded, although the thought of starting her job at the nonprofit didn’t fill her with eagerness, not anymore. Instead, the feeling in her gut was an awful lot like loss. “What if I can’t get him out of my system?”

“Simple. Call George Clooney. He’s still single.”

Natalie laughed. “That easy, huh?”

“Yep.” Angie grabbed an Oreo off the plate on the coffee table. “So, are you going to the office Christmas party tomorrow? Or rather the annual Suck-Up-To-Brad-with-gifts-he’s-just-going-to-return, Cheetos-and-store-brand-soda office gala?”

Natalie put the half-eaten pint of ice cream on the table. What was the good of making a resolution if she didn’t put it into action? “Yes, I am. And this time, I’m taking your advice. Maybe all I have is a bad case of infatuation and one night with Jake will cure me.” Yet, even as she said the words, Natalie knew what she felt for Jake Lyons was so much more. “Either way, I’m done being stuck in my life and definitely done letting a few stuck words hold me back.”

“You go, girl! Always trust your heart. Everything you need to know is right there.” Angie rose and grabbed her purse off the floor. “Speaking of hearts, I have to go. I have a date.”

“You do? With who?”

“Tim.” A flush filled Angie’s cheeks. “Sometimes Mr. Right is right under your nose, or in my case, right under my keyboard.”

The office Christmas party was in full swing by the time Jake arrived. It should have been a costume party so that he could have come dressed as an idiot, the one part he seemed to be playing pretty well lately.

After yesterday, when he’d gone and lied to Natalie, telling her it was Velma—Velma, of all people—who had picked out the gifts, he’d wanted to smack himself, and then take the words back. Tell Natalie it was simply a measure of his insanity, brought about by spending ridiculous amounts of time in Man Hell—that is, the mall.

He’d meant to tell her that as sexy as SpiceGirl sounded, and as fun as a little rendezvous with her might be, the only one he wanted under his mistletoe was Natalie.

However, she was the kind of woman who meant taking things further than one night. He saw it in her eyes, tasted it in her kiss. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man loved and left.

She was also the kind any sane man held onto for the rest of his life.

What if he wasn’t that kind of man, though? What if, in the end, he turned out exactly like his father and grandfather?

He had yet to prove himself with the company. The late night he’d spent with the books last night, after finally prying them out of Brad’s controlling hands, had proved to him that Lyons Corp was in even worse shape than he’d thought. All the effort he’d put in over the last five months hadn’t made more than a dent in profitability. If anything, the company was hemorrhaging faster than before.

It was going to take some serious work to get it back on track. First, an in-house promotional campaign to let their old customers know that, yes, Lyons was still alive, and second, a significant reduction in management salaries and benefits.

Maybe then, at next year’s Christmas party, Jake could relax. Think about having a personal life again.

Until then, he’d be putting in some long days. Any relationship he might try to have with Natalie would undoubtedly end up relegated to second place. If there was one thing Jake knew about Natalie Harris, it was that she deserved a man who would put her first.

“Hey, Jakey, loosen up,” Brad said, coming up to him and clapping him on the back, then shoving a plastic cup of undoubtedly cheap champagne into his hands. “You worry too much.”

“Brad, if I don’t worry, this company will tank. Do you know how much market share we’ve lost this year alone?”

Brad waved a dismissive hand, making his red silk shirt flip-flop against his wrist. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

“No, Brad, it’s not. This company is going down the tubes and you’re just sitting there, sucking it dry.”

Jake leaned in closer so the other employees wouldn’t hear. “I saw your ‘expense’ reports for the last three months. Women are not an expense item, neither are limos.”

Brad shrugged. “What do I care? It’s the family feed bucket. Pull up a bowl.”

Anger boiled inside of Jake. “It’s a legacy, Brad. Why don’t you want to protect it instead of destroy it?”

“I’m just taking my share, before there’s nothing left.”

“You’re not doing it while I’m here,” Jake said, his voice low. “We’re going to buckle down, cut back on our salaries and—”

Brad snorted. “Cut back? Are you nuts? I’m not trimming anything. You want to cut your salary, be my guest. But I own 51 percent, so that means I own all the decisions too. And I decide I need a raise, starting immediately.”

Jake’s first thought was to quit, walk away and let Brad do what he wanted with Lyons Corp. But just as he opened his mouth, he thought of what his father had asked of him. To restore the family business, at all costs.

So he turned and walked away, leaving his champagne on Dena’s desk and the argument unfinished.

He worked his way in and out of the crowd; it seemed every person who worked for Lyons, and a few who probably didn’t, had crowded into the fifth-floor corporate offices. Tension crackled in his veins. He didn’t need champagne to loosen him up, to take his mind off the general ledger. He needed only one thing—

Natalie.

And then, he saw her, in the corner, talking with her friend Angela. “Natalie,” he said, after he reached her. Angela drifted away, a knowing smile on her face. “I was looking for you.”

He saw her draw in a breath, center herself, then speak without hesitation. “Why?”

“Because I want to offer you a job. A promotion, really.” The words came out, as if the thought had been there all the time. It had, he realized, he just hadn’t vocalized it until now.

“A-a-a job?”

“I want you to head up the marketing department at Lyons. You’re inventive, you’re fun and you’re good with numbers. If you ask me, you’re wasting your time stuck in that cubicle, doing whatever Brad throws your way. Plus, you’ll need to work side by side with me in the next year as I put more time into expanding Lyons Corp’s reach.”

He waited, sure she’d say yes on the spot. Wanting her to say yes, so that he could see that smile on her face.

She swallowed hard, then shook her head. “I c-c-can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me you love your cubicle so much that you don’t want to leave it?” He added a grin, hoping the surprise at her refusal didn’t show.

“I already took another job. I s-s-start next week.”

She was leaving? Hell, he couldn’t blame her. If Brad hadn’t been family, he would have left a long time ago too. “Next week? That soon?”

“Where I’m going, I can make a difference,” she said softly. “I can’t d-d-do that here.”

But you can make a difference, he wanted to say, you already do. In his days, in the way he looked at Monday mornings, and the disappointment he felt on Fridays and—

“Natalie, tell me I can talk you into staying,” he said. “If it’s pay, don’t worry. We can negotiate a raise.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind and led him back into the maze of cubicles.

Behind one of the gray walls, a woman giggled and a man murmured. Apparently, they’d found the mistletoe.

“Why are you leaving?” he asked.

She considered him for a long second. “You r-r-really want to know?”

“Yes.”

Again, she paused, inhaled, then went on. “Meaning. That’s what I want. I don’t find meaning in filing paperwork or making sure all the credits and debits balance. I want to wake up in the morning knowing I am going to do something good that day and when I go to sleep at night that I made a tiny difference to one person.” She drew in a breath. “I don’t want a job, Jake, I want a vocation.”

As she always did when she was fired up about something, Jake noticed, she stopped stuttering. It had to be hard, he was sure, to conquer something like that. He realized anew what a strong, compelling woman Natalie Harris was. He wanted just a little of that—of her determination, her desire, for more.

“What drives you, Natalie Harris?” he asked, moving closer to her, seeking answers in her gaze, wondering if someday he, too, could find that magic elixir for a life.

Natalie sank onto the edge of the desk, toying for a moment with a stray paper clip. “When I was a little girl, my mother married and married. And married. She pretty much made it a career. But she never married a man who was worth a dime. They’d all leave, and she’d be stuck with the bills and the credit card debt and the car payments. Finally, we ended up running out of money; it all happened so fast. We ended up living in a car for a while, camping out wherever we could, bathing in gas station restrooms.

The whole nine yards. If it hadn’t been my life, I would have thought it was a movie.”

Shock rippled through him, at how different her life had been from his, despite their both growing up in homes of serial marriers. “I had no idea. Natalie, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s when I started…” she paused, and he saw the pain in her eyes, “stuttering. The doctor said it was the trauma of the whole thing. I was a little kid, and it was scary. I ended up going to speech therapy and learned how to get it under control.” Her smile spread across her lips and socked him in the gut. “Most of the time. Now I only do it when I get nervous.”

He took a step closer. “And I make you nervous?”

“Sometimes.” She laughed. “Okay, most of the time. But not anymore.”

Around them, the holiday Muzak continued to play, the party continued its happy chatter. The couple in the next cubicle kept on doing whatever they were doing.

“Why not?” Jake asked.

“Because last night I made some decisions, and once I did that, I felt…empowered. Stronger. Able to take on tall conversations in a single bound.”

He chuckled. “Still, when you were a kid, all of that must have been really hard.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay, I survived. It taught me a lot, actually, about life and being strong.”

“And that’s why this shelter is so important to you.” He let out a gust. “I’m sorry we axed it. If I had known—”

“Don’t tell me about the bottom line again,” she said, putting up a hand, cutting him off. “If you truly wanted to, you could do anything, Jake. You could even walk away from this place.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand, Natalie. I have to take care of this company.”

“Why?” She took a step forward. “Tell me honestly, do you feel like this,” she swept her hand in a semicircle, indicating the building, “is your purpose? Or just a job?”

“It’s…” his voice trailed off as he realized his only reason for being here was to live up to someone else’s legacy, to make someone else happy. Someone who had died and thus couldn’t even see what was happening. He realized then that he hadn’t just been trying to rebuild a company but also to create the family bonds he’d never had. “I’m trying to continue what my grandfather started. What my father inherited and passed on to me.”

“But is it what makes you jump out of bed in the morning, raring to start the day? Is that what your passion is, Jake?” She searched his gaze, and in that look, he knew he was connecting with a stronger Natalie than he had before. “Because I know what mine is.”

With both hands, she clasped his face, then leaned forward and kissed him. This time, her kiss was even deeper, more intimate than before, as if her new resolutions had extended to this too. Desire ignited within him, hot and fast, making him draw her closer, his hands slipping down her back, along her waist, craving the feel of her against him. She was soft in all the right places, her body carved into the spaces of need.

He opened his mouth, letting his tongue do a hell of a polka with hers. In response, she grasped his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her, across the desk. The aggressive move surprised him, stoking a fire that didn’t need any additional flame. Natalie’s hands roamed his back, sliding down his pants, over his hips, his buttocks, every reachable inch. He followed her lead, sneaking a hand between them and up under her sweater, cupping one of her perfect breasts against the delicate lace of her bra. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more, and wanted it now, to hell with waiting.