Too Close to Touch (9 page)

“Would it kill him to tell me once in a while?” Gretchen could hear the hurt and anger in her voice. The discussion was ancient, and the thought of going around and around the same old track one more time made her tired. “I’ll never understand it, J.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to understand it. Maybe it just
is
.”

After a beat, Gretchen said, “What is that, your version of dime-store therapy?”

J.J. laughed heartily, a sound Gretchen had always loved. “Hey, my therapy is worth
way
more than a dime, missy.”

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

“If you say so.”

“Before I let you go, Lex wants to say hi.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes and grimaced. Lex was her two-year-old niece. She was not at all adept at talking on the phone and attempts at conversations were usually exercises in futility, but the fact that she wanted to talk to “Aunt Getch” warmed Gretchen’s heart in inexplicable ways.

Gretchen uh-huh’ed and oh-my’ed her way through three minutes that felt like twenty of indecipherable conversation with the little sweetheart before J.J. mercifully took the phone back.

“Did you get all that?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I don’t think I got any of it,” she responded gleefully. “But she certainly went on and on, just like a little boy I used to know way back when.”

“She’s learning new words all the time. She said ‘fuck’ the other day. Jenna almost killed me.”

Gretchen burst out laughing, remembering the Þ rst time she taught her little brother to swear.

“All right, big sis. I’ve had enough of you.” It was his standard closing line and it always Þ lled her with love for him. “When are you coming home for a visit?”

“I actually have a couple of old boxes to pick up from Dad’s basement, so I do need to make a road trip.”

“And you want to see your nieces and nephew.”

“And I want to see my nieces and nephew. I’ve got budget numbers due next week and then I’m going to need to sleep for days. Maybe the second or third weekend in June?”

“Let us know. Jenna will be thrilled.”

They signed off and Gretchen hung up, a smile still clinging to her lips. Her brother was a good man, the glue that had held their family together after their mother died ten years earlier. If it had been left to Gretchen, she would have seen her father almost never. The fact made her feel ashamed.

ReÞ lling her wineglass, she picked up her briefcase and headed for the bedroom, stopping at an end table to look at the wedding picture of her parents. They seemed so happy. Her father was regal and handsome in his tux, his dark hair slicked back away from his forehead, his perfect posture making the suit look like it had been invented just for him. Her mother was devastating in her off-the-shoulder white gown, her black

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GEORGIA BEERS

ringlets the only physical attribute Gretchen had inherited from her.

Her smiling green eyes and olive-toned skin had been passed on to J.J.

Gretchen’s dark, charcoal eyes—right down to the shape of them, the thickness of her lashes, and the arch of her brows—were replicas of John Kaiser’s, as was her pale, alabaster skin and the ability to seem taller than she was just by the way she carried herself.

She hadn’t been what she’d call close to her mother, but she loved and missed her very much. Emma Kaiser had been a kind and gentle woman, a housewife who baked cookies and looked out for all the children on their street. She and Gretchen didn’t have a lot in common, but Gretchen admired her strength and generosity. Even ten years after breast cancer had claimed her life, Gretchen found herself itching to talk to her, sometimes going so far as to actually pick up the phone and punch in the Þ rst number before realizing that telephone lines wouldn’t reach her where she was. The feeling knocked Gretchen back on her heels every time.

Running her Þ ngertips over the picture, she sighed. Mother’s Day had come and gone and she hadn’t even thought about it. Guilt settled over her like a fog. She’d have to make sure to visit the cemetery next time she went home and leave some ß owers.

v

“Thanks, Frank,” Kylie said with a smile as she passed through the employee entrance Frank held open. Her arms were loaded with bags smelling of smoked pork and cornbread.

“Working awfully late tonight, Ms. O’Brien.” Frank walked ahead of her and pushed the call button for the elevator. He was a retired policeman who now spent three nights a week working security for Emerson. His balding head and rotund build reminded Kylie of a younger version of her late grandfather.

Kylie shrugged her shoulder to reposition the duffel bag hanging from it. “Somebody’s got to keep this place running, you know.”

“True enough,” he smiled, reaching into the elevator and punching her ß oor. “You give a holler if you and Ms. Kaiser need anything, all right?”

“Thanks, Frank,” she said again as the doors slid closed.

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

She had to admit how much better she felt being out of her work clothes. Eight hours in panty hose and heels was her limit; any longer than that and she started to get cranky. It was amazing to her that she felt almost revitalized simply by changing into her sweats. Certainly not even close to proper Emerson business attire, but once it was past eight o’clock at night, nobody cared.

The ofÞ ce was a little spooky at this hour. Not only did the absence of the usual hustle and bustle make the silence seem creepy, but the lack of most of the lighting made things seem even eerier. She could see Gretchen’s ofÞ ce light throwing a rectangular yellow square onto the tile down the hall and she picked up her pace, mentally laughing at herself for acting like an eight-year-old who’s watched one too many horror movies.

“I smell food.” Gretchen’s voice reverberated through the hall, causing Kylie to ß inch, and then chuckle at her own reaction.

“I come bearing gifts,” Kylie said as she entered the ofÞ ce.

Papers were strewn everywhere. Gretchen sat at her desk, squinting at the computer monitor, which showed endless lists of numbers. A laptop in sleep mode was perched on the small round table in the corner meeting area that would be Kylie’s workspace for the night. They’d decided it was easier to be in the same room.

“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” Gretchen commented with a wry grin. “I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be.” Kylie set down her armload of stuff on the ß oor and cleared off the table. Swinging the duffel off her shoulder, she sat it on the table and unzipped it. “I brought you some, too, just in case.”

“You did?”

Kylie pulled out another pair of navy blue sweats, a gray University of Rochester sweatshirt, and a cozy-looking pair of white socks. Handing them over the desk to Gretchen, she felt herself ß ush a bit at the look of touched surprise on Gretchen’s face.

“That was really thoughtful.” Gretchen sounded almost at a loss.

“I don’t know about you, but I work a lot better when I’m comfortable,” Kylie said lightly, wanting to convey that it was no big deal despite the fact that she’d spent way too much time trying to decide on just the right selection to bring. “The sweats will probably be a little big, but nobody’s going to see you but me. I didn’t want to

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GEORGIA BEERS

scare you with my stained and torn Lazy Ass Around the House sweats, so I brought you the Allowed Out in Public sweats. Big difference, you know.”

Gretchen blinked several times as she took the pile from Kylie’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Go get changed.” She turned to the bags of food and began laying out their dinner.

“Yes, ma’am.” There was a note of amusement in Gretchen’s voice that Kylie decided she liked.

Kylie moved the laptop and then set the round table with two plates, plastic silverware, and napkins. She scooted around the corner and snatched two Diet Cokes from the vending machine in the kitchenette. She opened all the containers, not knowing what Gretchen liked best but hoping she’d done okay in her choices. The smell was mouthwatering…pulled pork with barbecue sauce, sweet potato fries, black beans and rice, and fresh cornbread. They might be working until after midnight, but they would not go hungry doing it.

Gretchen returned to the ofÞ ce carrying her suit on a hanger and stopped in her tracks in the doorway. “Holy shit.”

Kylie smiled. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day. Come and eat.” She let her eyes wander over Gretchen’s small frame. The sweatpants were indeed too big and the sleeves of the sweatshirt were pulled up to her elbows, but she looked adorable. Kylie decided to keep that comment to herself, suspecting that the word “adorable” was not among Gretchen’s preferences as a personal description.

“God, this smells good,” Gretchen sat down at the small table across from Kylie. “I didn’t know how hungry I was until I smelled you coming down the hall.”

“I order from this restaurant all the time. It’s really close to my place.”

“And you’re where?”

“In the city. Near Culver and University.”

Gretchen took her Þ rst bite of the pork and closed her eyes in delight. “Oh, my God. This is sinful.”

Her rapturous expression made Kylie swallow and run her tongue over her bottom lip as she sat down. “You like it?” she asked, as if the answer wasn’t clearly written on Gretchen’s face.

“Oh, my God,” Gretchen said again, scooping another forkful into her mouth.

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

Kylie reached across the table with a napkin. “You’ve got…”

She gently wiped the corner of Gretchen’s mouth. “A little sauce.” She cleared her throat and focused on her own plate.

“Thanks.”

Kylie could feel Gretchen’s eyes on her. It took an effort not to look up. “So, where do you live?”

“I’m off of Park Avenue.”

“Nice. You’re not far from me at all. You have an apartment?”

“Yeah.” Gretchen bit into her cornbread. “You?”

“I have a little house.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm. Why do you sound surprised?”

Gretchen studied Kylie’s face. “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed you were single and…I didn’t expect somebody single to have a house alone.”

“Hmm. You assumed I was single.” Kylie raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that.”

Gretchen chuckled, and Kylie felt a perverse sense of pleasure at having made her laugh. She glanced down at Kylie’s hands. “No rings.”

“Ah. A safe assumption, then, I must admit.”

“And a correct one?”

Kylie met Gretchen’s coal-dark eyes and felt suddenly exposed, as if she were sitting at the table naked under the intent stare. She swallowed the food in her mouth, then responded, “Yes. A correct one.”

Gretchen simply nodded and went back to her plate.

“And you?” Kylie probed.

“And me, what?”

“An eye for an eye, Ms. Kaiser.” As Gretchen looked at her, Kylie cocked her head to the side and said, “I get the impression that personal discussions aren’t your favorite things. But I spilled, so you have to admit that it’s only fair you spill a little, too.”

Gretchen pointed her fork at Kylie. “Were you on the debate team in school?”

Kylie laughed. “Yes. Now answer the question.”

“Yes, Ms. O’Brien. I, too, am single.”

Kylie inclined her head in a nod of thanks. A wave a satisfaction rolled over her at having gotten a straight answer to a personal question from her boss.
We’re making progress
.

• 69 •

GEORGIA BEERS

They ate in companionable silence for a while, Kylie stealing glances at Gretchen whenever she could. She refused to take the time to analyze why she enjoyed looking at her boss. The woman was damn attractive, especially dressed in Kylie’s clothes. It didn’t take much of a leap to picture Gretchen lounging on Kylie’s couch on a Sunday morning, newspaper open in front of her, steaming cup of coffee on the table, all bare feet and tousled hair.

Shaking the unsettling but not unpleasant vision from her head, Kylie asked, “So, this budget stuff is due tomorrow and then the pressure is Þ nally off, at least for a while. What will you do for the weekend?”

Memorial Day was looming, a long weekend for the company, and Kylie was looking forward to it.

“I’ll absolutely be sleeping in on Saturday. I can hardly wait. This four or Þ ve hours of sleep a night business is catching up with me. After that, I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I still have some unpacking to do.

Maybe catch a movie.”

“I have an idea.”

Gretchen raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“My parents throw a big Memorial Day cookout every year. More often than not, it rains, but I think the forecast is actually calling for decent weather. It’s very informal, lots of people coming and going all day. You should come by. You can grab something to eat, get to know a few locals, see my smiling face, and if you’re not having fun, you can leave at any time.” The words had fallen from her mouth in a jumble and when she Þ nished, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting.

Gretchen’s expression softened. “It’s very nice of you to invite me, Kylie. Thank you. Can I say ‘maybe’ and leave it at that?”

It was about the answer Kylie expected. She’d be shocked if Gretchen actually did show up. But she had put the invitation out there and she was proud of herself. “Of course. I’ll leave you directions in the morning.”

They Þ nished eating, passing food back and forth, snagging bites off one another’s plates as if they’d been sharing meals for years.

Finishing up, Gretchen stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly. Kylie caught herself eyeing the peek of pale white tummy that was exposed and quickly averted her gaze.

“What do you say?” Gretchen asked. “Ready to get back to it?”

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

“Ready as I’m going to be at nine thirty at night.”

“That’s the spirit. I’d like to be able to e-mail this proposal and have it sitting on Wheeler’s computer when she comes in tomorrow morning. She doesn’t think we’ll be able to do it. Let’s knock her right off her chair. Want to?”