Chapter Seven
Chap-ter Seven
D ina re-turned to her apart-ment that evening, yawn-ing. She kicked a yel-low petal on the front side-walk be-fore she dragged her-self up the stairs and into the front hall of her Vic-to-rian build-ing. More petals in-ter-min-gled with leaves lay scat-tered on the car-peted hall-way. She frowned as she opened her mail-box. Some flower de-liv-ery ser-vice had made a mess.
Af-ter a mostly sleep-less night at Adam’s and a full day of work, all she wanted to do was draw a bath in her claw foot tub and go to bed. Im-me-di-ately. She fol-lowed the trail of petals and leaves up-stairs to her front door. Taped to it was a kelly-green en-ve-lope. She yanked it off and opened it.
Tracy said it was okay.
Her mind was too slug-gish to process the mean-ing of the note, so she un-locked her door and gasped. Yel-low flow-ers of ev-ery va-ri-ety cov-ered all the vis-i-ble sur-faces in her apart-ment. Cen-tered on the oc-ca-sional ta-ble in her front hall-way was a vase of yel-low sun-flow-ers. Toss-ing her keys next to them, she moved into her liv-ing room, where vases of blan-ket flow-ers and daf-fodils lit-tered her cof-fee ta-ble. Walk-ing over to the win-dowsill, she sneezed at the gold-en-rod.
Kick-ing off her shoes, she walked bare-foot into the kitchen and saw roses on the coun-ters, ligu-laria in the sink and black eyed Su-sans on the stove. Stunned, she peeked into her bed-room. Snap-drag-ons sat on her dresser, tick-seeds were on her night ta-ble and cone-flow-ers were tied in bunches on her bed. It was as if the pages of The En-cy-clo-pe-dia of Plants and Flow-ers had come to life. An-other kelly-green note lay on her pil-low and she sank to the floor to read it.
Please go to your high school re-union with me.
Adam
It was only when she saw each word al-ter-nat-ing be-tween green and gold that she re-al-ized Adam had cho-sen the flow-ers to co-or-di-nate with her school col-ors. She leaned against the side of her bed. Mr. Flashy-pants had struck again and he was a ro-man-tic. Ap-par-ently with her friend Tracy’s help.
Tak-ing her time, she stopped to ex-am-ine all of the flow-ers, ex-cept for the gold-en-rod, which she car-ried at arm’s length out to her bal-cony—al-ler-gies. Her lips twitched. He was the one who left the petals and leaves trail-ing from her front porch to her apart-ment door. It was…sweet and ro-man-tic and over the top. Pulling her phone out of her purse, she di-aled Adam’s num-ber. He an-swered right away.
“So will you go with me?”
Had he been wait-ing for her call? “Thank you for the flow-ers.” She tried to keep her voice mod-u-lated and steady, even though her heart was beat-ing fast.
“Did you like them?”
“Ev-ery-thing ex-cept the gold-en-rod. They make me sneeze.”
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay. I put them out on the bal-cony where I can see them any-way.”
“I’ll re-mem-ber that for next time.”
He was go-ing to do this again? “Mm hm.”
“So, will you go with me?”
“It’s my re-union. Shouldn’t it be, ‘can I go with you?’?”
“De-tails.”
She laughed. “Yes.”
The smile on Adam’s face lasted the rest of the night as he watched TV and lay in bed. Dina in-vaded his dreams, which fea-tured a sil-hou-ette he’d swear was her. He woke up the next morn-ing with a smile that didn’t dim as he walked from Star-bucks into his of-fice. Only his fa-ther’s voice com-ing through the in-ter-com, or-der-ing him into his of-fice at his “ear-li-est con-ve-nience” made it dis-ap-pear.
The man sure knew how to ruin the mood.
Plas-ter-ing a neu-tral ex-pres-sion on his face, Adam sat across from his fa-ther at his mas-sive desk.
“What’s up?”
His fa-ther frowned. “Is that how you speak to me?”
Neu-tral-ity was dif-fi-cult to main-tain. Ku-dos to Switzer-land. “I apol-o-gize.”
With a nod, his fa-ther leaned for-ward, tent-ing his hands and rest-ing his el-bows on his ma-hogany desk. “Bradley & Com-pany is threat-en-ing to take their busi-ness else-where, thanks to your care-less-ness.”
His stom-ach plum-meted to his toes.
His fa-ther’s look of dis-taste matched Adam’s feel-ings at hav-ing his fa-ther think so poorly of him.
“It’s all bull-shit!” Adam hurled him-self out of the chair and paced his fa-ther’s of-fice.
“Sit down.”
Shoot-ing pain ringed his scalp as a ten-sion headache be-gan to form, but he sat.
“And the par-ale-gals are un-happy work-ing with you,” his fa-ther said
“Even if you think I was care-less with the ac-count, which I wasn’t, you know I didn’t throw Ash-ley un-der the bus, Dad. My con-cerns are le-git-i-mate.”
“Are you sure?”
Adam cra-dled his head in his hands be-fore look-ing at his fa-ther. The man was in his fifties and had that age-less white-male priv-i-leged look about him—a full head of white hair, skin tanned and leath-ery from end-less ten-nis matches at the club, and a pow-er-ful stance that made him look as for-mi-da-ble in court as his win-ning record im-plied.
“Yes.”
His fa-ther fo-cused his fa-mous pros-e-cu-tor stare at him. Adam felt as if he was turned the wrong way in a wind tun-nel.
“Then you’re go-ing to need to fix your re-la-tion-ship with the par-ale-gals. As for your care-less-ness, I can’t af-ford any more of your screw-ups. Un-til fur-ther no-tice, you’re tak-ing time off.”
Was there re-ally no one in the para-le-gal de-part-ment who would vouch for him? He might be the boss’s son, but he al-ways thought he had gen-uine re-la-tion-ships with them. Maybe he could talk to Kim in pri-vate.
The log-i-cal side of his brain knew his fa-ther had no choice but to take away his caseload. Bradley & Com-pany was an im-por-tant client with far-reach-ing in-flu-ence. If they left, it would be sig-nif-i-cant loss to the law firm. But the rest of him knew mak-ing him hide away was the equiv-a-lent of an-nounc-ing his guilt to the world. He’d never make ju-nior part-ner this way. He wouldn’t be able to move any-where else with-out a good ref-er-ence or cur-rent cases. He was screwed.
“You’re not go-ing to back me on this?”
His fa-ther stared past Adam’s left ear. “The firm can’t suf-fer, Adam. You know that.”
He’d heard that phrase all his life. He’d just never heard it di-rected at him.
Dina stepped off the el-e-va-tor into the wait-ing area of Man-del & Ryan, At-tor-neys at Law, and looked around wide-eyed. Be-tween ad-just-ing to the idea that Adam seemed to want to be more than just friends, and tak-ing the leap to sur-prise him at his of-fice, she didn’t think she had any more nerves left.
She was wrong.
The smell of money—amounts of which she could never hope to have—prac-ti-cally as-saulted her nos-trils as she looked around the space. Ev-ery-thing she’d ever read about cor-po-rate law of-fices was true. The car-pet be-neath her feet was so soft, she wanted to roll around on it. The fur-ni-ture was ex-pen-sive wood and she thought the door into the in-ner sanc-tum might ac-tu-ally be ze-bra-wood. A woman in a suit that looked like it was straight out of a fash-ion mag-a-zine looked at her over plat-inum-rimmed glasses. Her hair was per-fect. Dina ran a hand over hers in dis-com-fort.
“May I help you?”
Un-like some ac-cents that iden-ti-fied the speaker’s ge-og-ra-phy, hers iden-ti-fied her amount of money—lots. Wow, even the of-fice re-cep-tion-ist makes more money than I do. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Um, I’m here to see Adam Man-del.”
“Is he ex-pect-ing you?”
“No…not re-ally.” The idea of tak-ing Adam out to lunch to thank him for the flow-ers had been a spur-of-the mo-ment thing. It had sounded great in the se-cu-rity of the li-brary stacks. Here, not so much.
The re-cep-tion-ist frowned. At least, Dina thought she frowned. Her face didn’t move, but some-how man-aged to look more dis-ap-prov-ing than she had be-fore. “I’ll see if he’s avail-able.”
Dina perched on the sup-ple black leather sofa and stud-ied the mag-a-zines on the mar-ble ta-ble in front of her— Is-lands, Yachts In-ter-na-tional, Saveur, Unique Homes, Up-scale Liv-ing, Ar-chi-tec-tural Di-gest and the Robb Re-port . As if she hadn’t al-ready known the sec-ond she walked in here, she was way out of her league.
“I’m sorry, but—”
What-ever Lit-tle Miss Botox was about to say was in-ter-rupted by the ze-bra-wood door open-ing.
He looked aw-ful. Ten-sion lines bi-sected his brow and a thin white line out-lined his lips. He stopped dead when he saw her, and she thought maybe she’d made the big-gest mis-take of her life. A wash of red passed across his face and he looked around.
“Uh, Dina. What are you do-ing here?”
That was not the “Hey, I’m so glad to see you, Dina!” re-ac-tion she was look-ing for.
“I thought I’d take you to lunch.”
A va-ri-ety of emo-tions played across his face, but what-ever he was go-ing to say was halted by the ze-bra-wood door open-ing a sec-ond time. A thirty-years older ver-sion of Adam stepped through and Dina didn’t know whether to be im-pressed or fright-ened. Like Adam, he was tall with broad shoul-ders. His full head of white hair was slicked back. His pierc-ing blue eyes were sharp, and he stood as if sur-rounded by a bub-ble of im-pen-e-tra-bil-ity. He scanned the room, look-ing down his aquiline nose.
“Adam, your key.”
Adam stiff-ened and Dina reached a hand out and placed it on his up-per arm. His mus-cle was rock hard—too hard to be caused by any-thing but ten-sion. The mus-cles in his jaw bulged and his teeth ground to-gether.
Why would he have to turn in his key?
Adam’s fa-ther turned his stare to her. “May I help you?” His stare al-most made Dina cringe. In-stead she stepped for-ward.
“I’m Dina Ja-cobs.” She held out her hand. “It’s a plea-sure to meet you.” The words al-most got stuck in her throat.
Lit-tle Miss Botox was prac-ti-cally fall-ing over the re-cep-tion desk eaves-drop-ping, and Mr. Man-del must have no-ticed, be-cause he stepped for-ward and took Dina’s out-stretched hand. His hand-shake was firm. Hers was too and sur-prise flashed across his face be-fore he banked it down.
“Noah Man-del. How do you know my son?”
“Dad!”
She put a calm-ing hand on Adam’s chest. “We’ve been see-ing each other for about a week now.”
She didn’t know whose face was more com-i-cal, Mr. Man-del’s or Lit-tle Miss Botox’s. Both mir-rored each other—open fish mouth, raised eye-brows, flared nos-trils—which was quite a feat for the re-cep-tion-ist, and a lit-tle re-as-sur-ing some-how for Dina.
Adam’s fa-ther, on the other hand, was alarm-ing. Had Adam not men-tioned her at all?
He cleared his throat, looked at Adam, and cleared it again. “Is this true?”
Fi-nally find-ing his voice, Adam spoke. “Yes, Dad, it is.”
“Do you think it’s wise?”
“Yes, I do.”
Sud-denly, Adam put his arm around her shoul-der and pulled her against him. He’d never shown her af-fec-tion pub-licly. Plea-sure, sim-i-lar to the feel-ing she’d had when she saw the flow-ers, flowed through her. Re-mem-ber-ing how sim-i-lar to a gasp-ing fish the other two had looked, she did her best not to let her jaw drop.
But she couldn’t do any-thing about the warmth that spread through-out her body, or the light-head-ed-ness she got from stand-ing this close to him, or the zings of plea-sure that were trav-el-ing up and down her body and pool-ing be-low her stom-ach.
She might not fit in with his life-style, but she knew how to make some-one com-fort-able and her par-ents had taught her man-ners. Look-ing up at him, she said, “Thank you again for the flow-ers.” Turn-ing her fo-cus to his fa-ther, she added, “He gave me the most beau-ti-ful flow-ers I’ve ever seen. You taught him well.”
A hint of a frown crossed Noah’s fea-tures be-fore he in-clined his head. With-out an-other word, he turned and headed back into the of-fice. When the door closed, si-lence stretched. Dina stayed in Adam’s em-brace, afraid to break the spell. Fi-nally, when even Lit-tle Miss Botox had gone back to work, Dina glanced up at Adam.
He was smil-ing.
He pulled her out of the re-cep-tion area, into the build-ing’s hall-way out-side his fa-ther’s of-fice. “You’re a ge-nius.”
She was, but it wasn’t some-thing she men-tioned dur-ing the first week of a re-la-tion-ship, so she doubted he was re-fer-ring to her IQ. “What are you talk-ing about?”
“My dad’s been on my case about be-ing more re-spon-si-ble, im-prov-ing my im-age, etc. When he saw you with me, he backed down. This is the so-lu-tion to all our prob-lems.”
This time she stiff-ened. He couldn’t be…
“You need me to take you to the re-union. I need you to help my dad see I’m ma-ture enough, at-ten-tive enough, for the pro-mo-tion.”
He was. Had she mis-read his in-ten-tions so badly af-ter he sent her those flow-ers?
“We were al-ready go-ing to the re-union to-gether,” she said. “And shouldn’t your per-for-mance at work de-ter-mine whether or not you get a pro-mo-tion?”
“I need a hid-den weapon out-side of work. And you, my dear,” he planted a kiss on her fore-head, “are it.”
No, no, no. “You don’t need a weapon. You need to have a con-ver-sa-tion with your dad to fix things.”
“My dad doesn’t work that way.”
The sink-ing feel-ing in her stom-ach in-creased. Be-cause while she had started to feel some-thing for Adam, he’d just turned her into a ca-reer as-set for his own am-bi-tion.
“You’ll help me con-vince my fa-ther, right?”
His green-eyed gaze sent shards of heat into her soul, and she did all she could to hide them. He might not care for her in a ro-man-tic way, but even she could see he cared for her as a friend. And she didn’t have a lot of those. Cer-tainly not male ones who were will-ing to take her to a re-union and save her the em-bar-rass-ment of deal-ing with her old high school en-e-mies by her-self.
She could help him with this ruse un-til af-ter the re-union. By then, she’d have got-ten through see-ing her old class-mates, and his fa-ther would see how de-serv-ing he fi-nally was. It was less than two months.
“Yes,” she said.
It was the only thing she could do.