Chapter 5
Jane placed the files on Luke’s desk and checked her watch. It was just after six, but the office didn’t technically open until eight, and she was sure she was the only employee in the building. She studied the couch in Luke’s office before sitting on it with a weary sigh. Her head ached miserably, and she felt sick to her stomach. As punishment for being late last night, Jeremy had docked her pay the half hour and made her give all her tips to the bartender. Probably illegal, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it. She really needed her tip money and fought back her urge to burst into tears. Crying wouldn’t help.
She rested her head against the back of the couch. She didn’t know how long it would take to finish the work Mr. Dawson had left her, so she came in at five-thirty. She was terrified he’d fire her if it weren’t finished when he came in at eight. Unfortunately, the work hadn’t taken long, and she regretted losing even that extra hour of sleep she could have gotten.
She rubbed at her aching temples before lying on her side on the couch. She would rest her eyes for a few minutes and see if that helped her headache. If it didn’t, she would eat another orange and grab Advil from the staff room.
* * *
Luke staredat Jane’s empty desk. It was just before eight, and she usually sat at her desk already. A thin thread of worry went through him – she hadn’t looked good yesterday – but he shook it off. She was fine. He headed into his office and hung his jacket on the coat hook before closing the doors. Jane wasn’t his problem. He had enough on his plate. It was a relief not to be fighting with Mark anymore, but he still had what felt like a thousand things to finish before -
He stopped in his tracks and stared silently at the couch. Jane was curled up on it, and he hurried over. He squatted and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized she was sleeping. He reached for her shoulder to shake her awake but stroked her cheek instead. She didn’t move, and he grinned when she began to snore softly. He stroked her cheek again – God, she had soft skin – and then moved his hand to her shoulder to shake her awake.
Don’t. She needs sleep.
He hesitated. His inner voice was right. Jane looked utterly exhausted. Her skin was too pale, and the dark circles under her eyes almost looked like bruises. Still, he should wake her up and send her home. If she was too tired to work, she shouldn’t be here.
Let her sleep. You think she’s going to get any rest at that shithole apartment? She probably spends most of her nights awake because she’s worried she’ll be attacked. You saw the lock on her door – it wouldn’t keep out a determined toddler.
He stood abruptly and shrugged out of his suit jacket. He draped it over her thin body and smiled again when she sighed happily and burrowed her face under it. He walked to his desk as her soft snoring started again.
* * *
“Hey, Luke?”Mark strolled into his office just before noon. “I know this is bad timing, but I’ve got some financial statements you need to review before Friday. Also, I’m starving and heading to O’Keefe’s for lunch. Want to join me?”
“Keep your voice down,” Luke said in a low voice as he glanced at the couch.
Mark followed his gaze. “Luke? Buddy? Why is your assistant sleeping on your couch?” He dropped into the chair. “Shit, tell me you didn’t screw her right here at the office.”
“Jesus, Mark,” Luke said. “No, I didn’t screw her. I came in this morning and found her asleep on the couch.”
“So, you covered her up with your suit jacket and left her to sleep the morning away? Most employers fire their employees for sleeping on the job.”
“I don’t think she feels well,” Luke said.
“Then send her home. Or are you hoping she passes her germs to you so you can get out of looking at these financial statements?”
Luke snorted and shook his head. “No. I’ll take them home with me and look over them tonight. I need to pass on lunch, though.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll get something delivered from the deli and eat at my desk.”
Mark stood and glanced at Jane again before giving Luke a considering look.
“What?” Luke asked.
“Nothing,” Mark said. “See you later.”
When he was gone, Luke looked up the number for the deli. He would usually have Jane order lunch and pick it up, but it was bitterly cold outside. Sending her out in her stupidly thin jacket would be cruel. He glanced again at Jane’s pale face before ordering enough food for both of them.
* * *
“Do you like it, Jane?”
Her boss’s low voice saying her given name sent a tingle down her spine, and she smiled up at him. “It’s amazing. I love it.”
He put his arm around her waist and pulled her back against his hard body before nuzzling her ear. “Good, I’m glad.”
She studied the table in front of her. All her favourite foods covered it, and her mouth watered as she stared at the roast chicken and mashed potatoes. She would smother everything in gravy and eat and eat until the constant, horrible ache in her stomach finally disappeared.
Her boss nuzzled her ear again, and something sweeter overshadowed the hunger pangs. Heat bloomed in her belly, and she shivered in his arms when he placed a warm kiss on her throat.
“How are you going to thank me?” he murmured.
“Whatever you want,” she whispered.
He made a low sound of approval as his hand moved from her waist to her breast and squeezed gently. “Whatever I want?”
“Yes,” she moaned. Luke’s thumb stroked her nipple into a tight little bud, and she wished she wasn’t wearing a shirt and bra. It would be so nice to feel his warm hand on her naked skin.
“A kiss,” he said before rubbing the dark shadow on his jaw across her sensitive throat. “Will you give me that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my good girl.” He turned her around to face him.
She stared at him as he cupped her face and rubbed his thumb gently over her cheekbone. “One kiss, and then you can eat as much as you like.”
“Okay,” she whispered. As hungry as she was, she suddenly wanted Luke’s kiss so much more.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Jane, wake up.”
She frowned up at him, wondering why he didn’t just shut up and kiss her already.
“Jane, it’s time to wake up.”
She tried to ignore what he was saying. It didn’t even make sense to her. She felt so safe and warm in his arms, and he smelled really good. She wanted her kiss, dammit. Why did he keep talking?
* * *
“Jane?”
Luke sat on the couch next to Jane and gently shook her for a third time. Her eyes rolled back and forth behind her eyelids, and she muttered something he didn’t understand.
“Jane, wake up now.”
She opened her eyes and blinked blearily at him. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“I want my kiss,” she said before lifting her head and pressing her mouth against his.
He stiffened in shock at the feel of her soft lips, and she made a noise of frustration before whispering against his mouth, “Please, Luke. You promised. I want my kiss.”
Her warm breath and sweet pleading did him in. She wanted to be kissed, and damned if he didn’t want to kiss her. He had wanted to kiss her since he woke from his dream of her. He cupped the back of her skull and gave her what she asked for.
She moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She clung tightly to him, and when he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, she parted them willingly. He dipped his tongue into her mouth and pulled her closer at the taste of her sweetness.
Be gentle, he warned himself.
He sucked on her bottom lip and then slicked his tongue across it. She gasped and pushed her tongue into his mouth. He sucked firmly on it and slid his other arm around her slender waist. He pulled her into a sitting position and shifted back on the couch before lifting her into his lap. She weighed next to nothing, and the heavy beat of his lust waned a little as worry crept in.
She pressed her chest against him and kissed him with a timid sort of sweetness that normally would have made him burn with desire, but common sense was starting to kick in. He was making out with his PA in his goddamn office in the middle of a workday. What the hell was he doing?
Her stomach growled loudly, and he tore his mouth from hers. She moaned unhappily and tried to kiss him again. He cupped her face and held her steady.
“Jane, stop.”
She blinked at him, and the desire in her eyes slowly turned to horror. She touched her swollen mouth before staring around his office.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I – oh my God.”
With a strength that surprised him, she scrambled off his lap and jumped to her feet. He stood and grabbed her arm when she weaved unsteadily. She raised a shaking hand and touched her mouth again. “Did you – why were you kissing me?”
“You asked me to.” He groaned inwardly at how stupid he sounded.
“I asked you to,” she repeated slowly. She stared around in confusion before making a low moan of horror. “Oh God, I was dreaming. Wh-why was I dreaming?”
“You were asleep in my office when I came in this morning,” he said.
“I was asleep in your… oh shit!” She gave him a terrified look. “I am so sorry, Mr. Dawson. I didn’t mean to do that. Please don’t fire me. I’ll never do anything like this again. I wasn’t feeling well this morning and thought if I rested my eyes for a minute, it might help. I’m so sorry. I finished the work you left for me. Please don’t fire me – I am begging you for a second chance. I know you don’t give second chances, but I promise if you - ”
“Jane, stop,” he said.
She trailed off and blinked back the tears as she gave him a look of pure misery. “I – I’ll gather my things and leave.”
She tried to walk away, and he tightened his grip on her arm. “I’m not firing you.”
“You’re not?”
The look of cautious hope in her eyes made his stomach twist. “No, I’m not. How about this – I’ll forget you fell asleep in my office if you forget that I was incredibly inappropriate and kissed you.”
Her face flushed bright red. He had a feeling that her horror at realizing she was sleeping in his office had made her momentarily forget the kissing.
“Jane,” he prompted when she said nothing, “do we have an agreement?”
He released her arm as she nodded. “Um, yes. Thank you, Mr. Dawson. I promise it will never happen again.”
He wondered if she meant the sleeping or the kissing and was dismayed to realize he hoped it was the sleeping. He shook off the little beat of pleasure that went through him at the thought of kissing her again. What was wrong with him?
“Good,” he said briskly.
Her face still bright red, Jane said, “I’ll grab your coffee for you.”
“It’s noon,” he said.
“Wh-what?”
“It’s noon. You’ve been sleeping all morning.”
“Oh no,” she said in a horrified little voice. “I slept all morning?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You looked like you needed the rest. If you’re still not feeling well, you can go home.”
“No, no,” she said hurriedly. “I feel much better.”
She didn’t look much better – the dark circles were still under her eyes, and her hands were trembling noticeably – but he nodded.
“All right. I don’t have as much work for you today, so I shouldn’t need you to stay late.”
“Okay.” She inched toward the door.
“But I will need you to work through lunch,” he said.
“No problem,” she said. “No problem at all.”
She watched as he sat at his desk and opened the large brown paper bag the deli had delivered a few minutes ago.
“Sit down,” he said.
She sat and grimaced with embarrassment when he pulled out the soup and sandwich, and her stomach growled loudly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Do you think… I mean, would you mind if I grabbed my sandwich from my desk before we started?” she asked.
“Not necessary.” He pushed the containers across the desk. “This is for you.”
She stared at him in surprise and confusion as he took out the second soup, sandwich, and two water bottles. He took the lid off his soup and unwrapped his sandwich. “Eat up, Ms. Smith.”
* * *
Jane studiedthe food in front of her. Shame and hunger were warring within her, but hunger won easily. She unwrapped the sandwich and took a large bite. It was a turkey sandwich with sweet cranberry sauce, and she wanted to bury her face into it. She tried to chew slowly but finished her sandwich before her boss had even eaten half of his. Her face burned with embarrassment as she took the lid off her soup and inhaled deeply.
“Careful, it’s hot,” her boss said.
She made herself set the spoon down and drink some water. Mr. Dawson was studying her, and she cleared her throat. “So, you found the work I left for you on your desk?”
“I did,” he confirmed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She waited for him to start talking about work and nearly choked on her sip of water when he said, “Did you grow up here, Ms. Smith?”
“Uh, yes, I did,” she said. “Did you?”
“Yes. Do you have any siblings?”
She shook her head. “How about you? I mean, besides Ms. Dawson?”
“No, it’s just Amy and me. Are you close to your parents?”
“They died when I was fifteen.”
He stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She took her own bite of soup. Oh God, it was so good. It was cream of broccoli, and although she usually hated broccoli, she decided she was foolish. Broccoli was as delicious as chocolate.
“How did they die?”
Her eyes widened at his bluntness. Not that she hadn’t had people ask her about her parents’ death, but usually, it was after they’d known her for a while. She opened her mouth to share her regular lie about their deaths, but how Luke stared at her as if he would see straight through her to the dark truth made her blurt out the truth.
“My mother caught my father cheating on her. Three days later, she shot him while he was having a nap and then shot herself.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
She hurriedly ate more soup, hoping he wouldn’t ask her any more questions about her life. She hated talking about herself. Even before the murder/suicide of her parents, she was shy and quiet, and after that trauma, she became even more withdrawn. If it hadn’t been for Mama J, she would probably be a complete recluse by now.
“Were you there?” he asked.
She jerked, spilling her spoonful of soup all over his shiny desk. She apologized before mopping up the spill with her napkin. He handed her the paper bag to throw the napkin in, and she busied herself by throwing her empty sandwich wrapper in the bag.
“Were you, Jane?”
“Was I what?” she hedged.
“Were you there when it happened?”
“No, of course not.”
“Jane,” he said softly.
She chewed at her bottom lip and avoided his gaze.
“Tell me the truth, please.”
“Yes, I was there,” she said. “I was in my room studying for my math test. I heard the first shot but didn’t realize it was gunfire. I thought maybe someone had set off a firecracker in our yard. Stupid, huh?”
“No.”
“Then there was the second shot, and I heard a thud from my parents’ room. I ran to their room. My dad was in bed, and there were blood and brains all over his pillow. My mom was lying on the floor at the end of the bed. She had shot herself in the temple and blown off most of her skull. The thud I heard was her body hitting the floor.”
He didn’t say anything, and without daring to look at him, she continued, “My mother left a note explaining that my dad tarnished their love with his affair, and he didn’t deserve to live but that she couldn’t live without him. I called 9-1-1, but they were both already dead. My mom had some mental health issues, I think. She often spent days in her bedroom and refused to eat or bathe. My dad called it her ‘moods’, but I think she might have had severe depression. Anyway, I didn’t have any other family, so the police called Child Services, and they put me in foster care.”
She finished her soup and resisted the urge to lick the Styrofoam container clean. Reliving her parents’ death hadn’t done anything to diminish her appetite. Of course, this was the first food she’d eaten in days that wasn’t a peanut butter sandwich or an orange.
“What happened then?” he asked quietly. Half his sandwich and most of his soup sat untouched in front of him, and she looked longingly at them for a moment before drinking the rest of her water. She should never have told him the truth, but it was too late to start lying now. He might as well hear the rest of her pathetic life story.
He’s your boss! Stop telling him how pathetic you are. You’ll get fired just for being so pitiful.
If he didn’t fire me when I stuck my tongue down his throat, he’s not going to fire me over my stupid life story.
Another wave of embarrassment went through her, and she could feel her cheeks reddening. Oh God, she had made out with her boss. Why the hell didn’t she learn her lesson the first time?
“Jane,” he prompted.
She took a deep breath. “I lived with my first foster home for about three months before my foster dad was arrested for child pornography.”
“Fuck,” he said. “Don’t they do some kind of interview process for foster homes?”
“Yes,” she said. “I guess he was good at hiding it. They moved me to a new foster home. They were an older couple, and they were nice. They had been trying to adopt a baby for years and fostered kids while they waited. I had my own room, and they treated me well. I lived with them for almost two years, but then they finally got the chance to adopt a baby. They needed my room for the nursery, so they asked my social worker to move me to a new home.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said.
She glanced up at him. To her surprise, there was no pity in his eyes, just something that looked suspiciously like anger.
“You lived with them for two years, and they kicked you out?” he said.
She shrugged. “They needed the space for the baby.”
It surprised her how easy it was to share this part of her life’s story. At the time, it was a devastating loss. She had grown to love Judy and Karl and even thought they might adopt her. She had made sure to do well in school and help around the house with chores to make them want her permanently. The night Karl and Judy sat her down and told her she was moving to a different foster home was horrible. She had cried and begged them to keep her, promised to help with the baby, and offered to sleep on the couch in the basement. Judy and Karl cried with her, and she believed their tears were genuine, but the next day, the social worker came for her.
“Where did you go then?” Mr. Dawson asked.
“I went to another foster home, and it wasn’t very,” she paused, “nice.”
“What happened?”
“They had other foster kids, six in total. One of them was a sixteen-year-old boy named David. One night he snuck into the girls’ room and tried to rape me.”
She watched his hands clenched into fists, and another look of anger flitted across his face.
“He didn’t,” she said. “I fought back and managed to get his hand off my mouth long enough to scream. It woke up the other girls, and he ran back to his room. I told the foster parents what happened, but they didn’t want to lose the money either of us brought in, so they told me to keep quiet about it when the social worker came.”
“Did you?” Mr. Dawson asked.
“No. They’d put a lock on the girls’ room to keep David out, but he was angry, and he constantly threatened to try to rape me again or kill me. I was afraid that sooner or later, he’d get me alone and hurt me. The social worker came by about a week after his first attempt. I told her what happened, and one of the other girls was brave enough to back me up. They removed all of us from the home.”
“Where did you go then?”
“Well, I was seventeen by then and only had a year left in the foster system. An older lady had been a foster mom for a long time and was retiring. They asked her to foster me. They told her it would only be until I turned eighteen, so she agreed. That’s how I met Mama J.”
A smile crossed her face. “Mama J was amazing. Her husband died quite young – I think Mama J said he was only fifty-two. They didn’t have any kids, so they decided to foster. I lived with her until I was eighteen and was kicked out of the foster program.”
“What did you do then?” He seemed oddly fascinated by her life story, and she gave him a quick, fleeting look.
“Mama J didn’t make me leave. She wasn’t going to foster anymore and asked me to stay with her. She didn’t have a lot of money – her husband’s illness had left her with a large debt in medical bills – but despite that, she wanted me to stay.”
She traced her finger across his smooth desk. “Mama J saved my life. She really did.”
“Where is she now?” he asked.
“After I graduated high school, Mama J worked at Walmart, and I waitressed for a few years to help with household bills and to save up for college. I applied and was accepted to the administrative assistant program, but about a month after I started, Mama J got sick. She was starting to show signs of Alzheimer’s. They did a bunch of tests and confirmed the diagnosis. She had to quit her job, and I quit college so I could go back to waitressing full-time to cover the bills. The first year or so wasn’t too bad, but then it got to the point where I couldn’t leave her alone anymore. She had to move into a care facility.”
“Does she remember you?” Mr. Dawson asked.
“Sometimes. The disease has started progressing more quickly in the last year, though. More often than not, she doesn’t know who I am.”
She studied her hands. “Sorry, I’m prattling on and on about my boring life when I should be working. What do you need to be done for this afternoon?”
He stared silently at her before saying, “I’ve sent you a few emails about what I need. If you have any questions, ask. All right?”
“All right. Thank you for lunch, Mr. Dawson.”
“You’re welcome, Jane.”