About Last Night.... Michele Dunaway
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Hopefully he hadn’t done anything that would tarnish the family name further or he’d be sure to hear about that.
Maybe Lindy would know what he’d done, and who besides Marci and Dan had been at the party. Good old Lindy. She was worth more than he paid her. Sure, he knew what everyone whispered. Just as his grandfather had said earlier, everyone agreed. Everyone said he really didn’t need a personal assistant; after all, all he truly did was day-trade and run the Shane Jacobsen Foundation that donated to child-abuse agencies. But Lindy was indispensable, as she’d proved over and over again. And right now he needed her. That thought cheered him up. She’d never let him down before, and he knew she wouldn’t now. All he had to do was ask and she’d make it her job to find out what happened at his party.
Thankfully the cordless phone was still in its place on the end table. Shane picked it up and pushed a button, the only one besides the pizza place that got any use from the phone’s speed dial feature.
“Hello!”
“Lindy! It’s me! Can you—” he began.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not available to take your call right now. Please—”
Shane fumed through the rest of her voice mail’s message. Odd. Where was Lindy? Why wasn’t she answering her cell phone? Even in the dead of night she always answered her cell phone. He tried to remember her pager number as the voice mail beeped the record prompt at him.
“Lindy? Damn it, if you’re there call me. I need to ask you about last night. Do you have any clue what happened to me? Except for this pounding headache, I don’t remember a darn thing.”
AT SIX-THIRTY LINDY TOSSED aside the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. The Sunday employment section, available early Saturday afternoon, had held slim pickings. The few jobs that had looked the slightest bit interesting all had a salary far below what Shane paid her. Unless she wanted to take a major pay cut, for a while she was stuck with him.
She glanced at her cell phone. The words announced three missed calls and two new voice-mail messages. “Persistent, isn’t he?” She picked up the phone and checked the caller ID display. The first number with multiple calling times was, as she’d thought, Shane’s. The second read J. Jacobsen. She frowned. Curious, Lindy dialed her voice mail.
“Lindy, it’s Shane. Where are you? I’ve been calling you all day. I’m starting to get really worried. Call me.”
Lindy hit seven-seven, erasing his newest message before his warm baritone washed over her and melted her resolve. As soon as the right job came along, she had to leave him.
The next message was from Shane’s grandfather. “Lindy? This is Joe Jacobsen. Would it be possible for you to come to my office Monday at nine? I have a few matters I’d like to discuss with you professionally, and Easter dinner is not the time or place. You do know you’re invited? Shane did tell you, right? See you tomorrow and then on Monday.”
Lindy erased that message, reached for her day planner and penciled in 9:00 a.m. Joe Jacobsen. She wasn’t sure what Shane’s grandfather wanted with her on Monday, but in the three years she’d been working for Shane she’d learned to jump when Grandpa Joe said jump. Founder of Jacobsen Enterprises, one of the largest companies in St. Louis, Joe Jacobsen was a self-made man along the lines of Andrew Carnegie. Even though Joe was as kindhearted as a teddy bear, in business and in life he always got what he wanted. As for Easter dinner, she could safely pass on that.
A knock sounded at her door, distracting her from the pressing problem of Shane’s faulty memory and the fact that eventually she’d have to call him back. Her pizza had finally arrived. Lindy rose to her feet, glad that she’d taken a shower after her roommate Tina had left. There had been a lecture—all about Shane’s shortcomings—that Lindy hadn’t needed. She rubbed her head one more time. Her headache had almost totally disappeared, and now with food she’d hopefully finally feel better and find a solution to her current problem.
Besides, after all, she wasn’t sure if she was happy, sad or just plain outright furious. Shane Jacobsen had no idea what had happened to him. The best lovemaking of her life and he didn’t remember it. Of course, she’d spent the whole drive home worried about what to say to him. That problem was solved—he didn’t remember anything.
But darn him! He wasn’t supposed to have blacked out! To be unmemorable, to have been forgotten…She grabbed her checkbook, headed for the door, and pulled it open. Unfortunately, the pizza deliveryman didn’t stand on the threshold.
“Shane!”
“There you are!” Shane rushed in and, before Lindy could move, he enveloped her in a gigantic bear hug. His damp hair fell into his face and an immediate warmth from his body traveled to hers. Her knees wobbled and Shane steadied her before leaning back so that he could see her face. “Lindy, you’ve had me worried sick. I’ve been calling you for hours. Why haven’t you been answering? You are okay, aren’t you?”
Lindy blinked, trying to find focus. Ah, to be in his strong arms again—her traitorous body awakened once more. Her breasts thrust forward as if seeking him, and heat began to pool.
No! Lindy yanked her mind back into full control and drew back a step, away from Shane. Immediate welcome coolness descended as she detached herself from Shane’s embrace. Her knees wobbled as she turned her back to him. Control. She needed control. She concentrated on making her step steady as she walked toward the couch. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice.
“Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I was taking a nap.” Lindy sat down, her legs more secure against the solid green cushions. Then she made the mistake of looking up at him.
Despite looking vexed, to her Shane had never seemed more beautiful. His jeans molded to his athletic legs, and his polo shirt revealed those wonderful arms that had just again held her tight to his chest. And those blue eyes that had held such promise last night right now revealed endless concern and care that was just for her.
How long had she waited for him look at her this way? As if he felt something for her?
Again she wanted to drown in him, to feel him against her, to let the illusions wash over her. She could still almost feel the way his fingers had stroked her skin and…
“Lindy, you never nap.”
She blinked, fantasy thankfully shattered with his words. “There’s always a first time. That is okay, isn’t it? I was tired so I turned off the phone and took a nap.”
Shane’s full lips turned downward and Lindy fought off a sudden urge and desire to kiss away his frown. “I’m being a cad,” Shane announced. “Are you sick? Can I get you anything? A pillow? Aspirin? What can I do to help?”
Lindy sighed. How could she get riled up at him? He’d been so worried about her not calling him back that he’d shown up on her doorstep. At moments like this Shane was at his best. Shane was not all his playboy image portrayed. After working with Shane for three years, Lindy knew a Shane few others did. She’d seen him when he’d made a dying child’s wish come true; she’d seen him care about situations others had washed their hands of. She’d seen him sit by his friend Dan’s hospital bed during Dan’s illness. And here he was, showing up because he’d been worried about her. How could she even think of leaving him?
Her mind wrestled with her heart as a desperate resolve filled her. She fisted her hands together. For her own long-term sanity and future she had to try. She could not let herself be sucked into the easy charm that was—and always would be—Shane Jacobsen. She was his personal assistant. That’s all she’d ever be, and it was a cruel illusion to pretend otherwise, to dream he might one day fall in love with her.
Deliberately she made her voice cold. “Thanks for being worried about me. But besides that, why are you here? Is there something you needed?”
“Water would be good,” Shane said, totally misinterpreting her chilly undertone. He gave her a smile that could have kept the winter frost from harming the spring tulips.