Say You Will(73)
And she wasn’t going to.
A week wasn’t very long, but it’d never taken her very long to make life decisions. Some things were evident, like the fact that she’d royally bollocksed things with Joe.
Was it too late to fix things?
She looked down the hall and then back at her collage. Turning to her computer, she opened up the company website, printed the picture of Joe from the roster, and cut it out in the shape of a heart. She glued it to the top, and then she stapled it for good measure.
There. She studied her handiwork, already feeling better. Now she just had to do something to get him back.
She knew what that was, too.
Determined, she went to Summer’s office. Her friend was turned around, staring out the window. Em knocked on the open door. “Summer? Are you busy?”
She whirled around in her chair. “Of course not. Come in.”
Em stepped inside and closed the door. She frowned as she really looked at the other woman. “You look different.”
“At least you didn’t say I look awful.” Summer put a hand on the colorful scarf she’d been wearing all the time lately. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t even want to think about any of it. I’ve been doing too much of that, and it’s making me tired.” She smiled wryly. Then she gestured to her. “You look like you’re on a mission. Have you come to your senses about Joe?”
She winced. “Was it that obvious?”
“Only if you have eyes.”
“Point made.” Em nodded. “So are you willing to help? I need to go shopping.”
“Shopping?” Her friend perked up. “What sort of shopping?”
“Lingerie.” She pursed her lips. “And I need cake. Something utterly decadent and irresistible.”
Summer lifted her purse from the floor. “I like the way you think.”
“Hopefully Joe will, too.” She felt a moment of uncertainty and fear.
“Lingerie, cake, and you? If he doesn’t think that’s a trifecta of happiness, he’s not the right one for you.”
“He’s the right one,” she said, positive about that one thing.
Summer slipped her arms through hers. “Then let’s bring him to his knees.”
Em armed herself to the teeth.
She shifted in her seat at the reception, pulling her sweater up to her chin, as though the people leaving work could see what she had on underneath. They couldn’t—she knew this—but it didn’t stop her from feeling wicked.
Sexy.
Powerful.
Summer stopped at her desk, bundled up and ready to go home. “Ready for this, Em?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the closed door of Joe’s office.
Her friend lowered her voice. “I saw his assistant leave. Go attack.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Here I go.”
“Good luck.” Summer winked at her and went to the elevator.
Em stood, tugging her skirt down to cover the naughtiness underneath. Picking up the box from the bakery, she marched resolutely to Joe’s door and knocked.
“Come in,” came a distracted rumble from inside.
Taking another breath, she let herself in and locked the door behind her.
He sat behind his desk, typing furiously on his keyboard. He had papers all over and a half-full bottle of sparkling water. His suit coat was hanging on the back of his chair, his sleeves were rolled up, and his tie was loosened, revealing a tantalizing patch of skin.
She wanted to kiss him there. She wanted the privilege of kissing him there whenever she wanted.
“I thought you were leaving for the day, Joan.”
Em stepped forward. “I’m not Joan.”
His head popped up, his face instantly a mask.
She swallowed her nerves and forced herself to walk up to him. “My father died in a gutter with his shoes missing, and my mother sold herself to the highest bidder on a nightly basis.”
Joe’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned back.
“As a kid, when I heard the door to the house open, I’d run into a closet to hide, not wanting to see what my mum and those men were doing, but I could still hear.”
“Bloody hell, Em.” He started to get up.
She held her hand up. “No, I need to tell you so you understand. It’s just, I’ve never told anyone. Saying it out loud makes me sick.”
He nodded and sat back, still ready to pounce to her rescue.
The realization made it easier for her to breathe. That was what she wanted—someone who’d rise to protect her even when she didn’t need it.
The knot she’d carried in the pit of her stomach all these years loosened, and she sighed in relief. She headed to his desk. “Sometimes there was money, but usually it went to alcohol and drugs. I had to come by food and clothing creatively. I swore I’d never do that to my children. I’d never be like my mum. I’d have two children who’d grow up safe and happy.