Shine Your Love on Me Read online

  Her stomach churned. “Hi. Missed you this weekend.”

  “Had a strategy meeting out of town. Called at the last minute.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Upper management only.”

  “And the client?” Her grandma’s words echoed in her head. Unless she’s got a thing for Lloyd.

  A faint blush stole through his pale cheeks. “It wouldn’t be a strategy meeting without the client.”

  “Did anyone else attend?”

  “What are you implying? He rose abruptly from his seat, anger mixed with embarrassment in his face.

  She knew the look. She’d seen it before. He was lying, covering up. A tightness in her chest combined with a sting of tears behind her eyes to rob her of words.

  He paced. “Look, Brooke. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for me. So, if the client wants me all to herself for a weekend, it’s not the end of the world.”

  She sipped her coffee, biding for time.

  He stopped and looked out the window. “I need this. It’s my ticket to the presidency, if not here, then somewhere else. If I make good on this piece of business, I’ll get a huge raise, a bonus, and my future will be made.”

  “I know,” she choked out.

  He turned to face her. “We can still see each other. We don’t have to be over. I’ll get you on the Greenleaf account.”

  “That’s pro bono. They can’t afford me on an account that doesn’t pay.”

  “There must be something else here.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Am I going to be fired?”

  “No! I won’t allow that.”

  “But you’re moving me off Lady Gray?”

  “I have to.”

  Those three words shattered her. Her career was free falling, but with no parachute. Lloyd, I counted on you. “But…”

  “I’ll blame it on the client. I’ll tell Jerry and Pete she’s a bitch and won’t work with women…which is true, by the way. It’s not you, it’s her.”

  “You’re going to go out with her and me, too?” Her pulse kicked up.

  “Not really going out with her. Maybe an occasional dinner. Client stuff.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  Color crept up his neck into his face. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  Brooke gulped air as tears burst forth. She grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and blotted her eyes. Don’t cry. It’s unprofessional.

  Lloyd put his head in his hands. “Stop, Brooke! Please. Don’t make this any harder than it is.”

  “I shouldn’t make this harder? What the hell? I’m not doing anything. I don’t cheat, and I don’t share.”

  Lloyd knelt down next to her chair. “Come on, Brooke, baby. You and me, we have something special.”

  “Yeah? We do? Sex on demand? That’s special?” She pushed to her feet.

  He grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “Do Pete and Jerry know you’re screwing the client?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  A sly grin crossed his face. “How do you think we got the account?”

  Brooke gasped. Her hand flew to cover her mouth.

  “Hey, I’m not proud of it. But this is important. It’s everything to me.”

  Gotta get out of here. Gotta think. She tore a tissue in half.

  “I’m having lunch with Jerry today. We’ll arrange for a new position here for you. I’m loyal, Brooke. You were a huge help in landing this account. I won’t forget that.”

  “What is there to say?”

  “Nothing, baby. Look, we’ll talk about it tonight. At your place?”

  She nodded. What can I do? Nothing. “Do you mind if I leave early today?”

  “Of course not. Just wind up those details—the things we promised to send to Evelyn. Give them to me, and I’ll shoot them over there. Then, you can have the afternoon off.”

  Back in her cubicle, she sucked in air. Her pulse beat so fast she could hear it. A tightness in her chest stole her breath. What’s happening to me? She finished her coffee, answered a few innocuous emails, and pulled up a conference report she had issued right after they had received the green light from Lady Gray.

  Focus. Get this done. Then get out of here. I can’t think here.

  Brooke pulled herself together, went down the list, item by item. She gathered all the information required, typed it up as a memo from Lloyd, and grabbed her jacket. Since it was twelve thirty, people would think she was heading out to lunch. No one would know she was taking the afternoon off.

  She stopped at Lloyd’s office. He was on the phone, so she dropped the memo on his desk and stepped back. He stopped talking, glanced at the paper, gave her the thumbs up, and went back to his conversation.

  When she hit the street, the cool, spring air chilled her. She zipped up her jacket and headed for Central Park West. Her studio apartment was on 74th Street, in a brownstone a few blocks south of Ruth. Brooke lived two flights up. Once inside, she put the kettle on to make a soothing cup of tea. Her two big windows faced the courtyard. While there was no view, it was quiet, something she enjoyed.

  Waiting for the water to boil, she thought about her situation. Fear of losing her job combined with fear of losing Lloyd. Her insides knotted, and her appetite went south. For the first time in four years, Brooke didn’t know what to do.

  It was Monday. The Dinner Club was meeting at Bess’s house as usual. Brooke smiled. Perfect timing.

  The kettle whistled. She made a large mug of chamomile and took off her work clothes. She slipped on workout pants and a T-shirt, before picking up her e-reader. Whenever life got difficult, she’d escape into a book. The habit had begun after her parents died and continued to this day. Books took her away for a while, allowing her to calm down.

  Throwing an afghan her mother had crocheted around her legs, she curled up on the sofa and opened to the latest romance she was reading. After an hour, she closed her eyes and let sleep take over her worried mind.

  * * * *

  The first thing Brooke did when she arrived at Bess’s house was uncork the bottle of Moscato she had brought. Bess poured big glasses for both of them. Brooke had taken Ruth’s pugs with her because they had such a good time playing with the others. Dumpling, Bess’s dog, greeted Freddy and Ginger with a bark.

  Brooke had arrived early so she could talk to her friend. She took a gulp of wine, hoping to relax.

  “What happened?” Bess leaned back against the kitchen counter.

  “So much. My job is in jeopardy.”

  “Really? After that big win? I’m shocked.”

  Brooke helped Bess make a salad and mashed potatoes to go with the meatloaf for dinner. Working with her hands calmed her down. Next to reading, it was her favorite thing to do. She had never attempted sewing or crocheting. Her mother had been so talented, Brooke thought her work could never compare.

  When everyone was seated at the table, Brooke spilled her story. Miranda, Rory, and Bess sat quietly, listening. The pugs were peacefully snoring, piled on top of each other on the sofa. Repeating the sad tale made her pulse kick up and her stomach knot. She pushed her plate away, unable to finish the tasty food.

  “That’s awful,” Miranda said, taking a forkful of potato.

  “What are you going to do?” Rory asked.

  “Don’t think there’s anything I can do. Wait and see what other job Lloyd finds for me.”

  “What about dating him?” Bess asked.

  “Well, he won’t be my boss, so I guess that’s good. But if he’s sleeping with this Evelyn chick, then I’m gone.”

  The only sound at the table for a moment was the clatter of knives and forks. Brooke took another sip of her fourth glass of wine.

  “If he’s that kind of guy, you don’t need him,” Rory piped up.

  “Right,” the others said.

  “I know. I’ll have to end it. But I’ll miss him. I’ll be alone.”

  “Bet
ter to be alone than with a creep,” Miranda said, under her breath.

  “A woman like you? You won’t be alone for long,” Bess added.

  Through the alcohol haze in her brain, Brooke remembered Preston Carpenter. She smiled. “Actually, there’s another guy who wants to ask me out.”

  “Who?” Bess asked.

  “The guy who walks these two, Freddy and Ginger.”

  “Another dog walker! I love it!” Rory laughed.

  “He’s a writer, too, like you and Miranda.”

  “He’s got my stamp of approval already,” Rory said.

  “He’s nice, but not for me.”

  “Is he good looking?”

  “Yeah. Tall, broad shouldered.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Miranda asked.

  “I want a corporate kind of guy. Someone who’s going to be successful.”

  “You’re in love with power and money.”

  “Maybe. Pres is nice. He’s one of the good guys. Maybe too good.”

  “Grab him. Those types are an endangered species,” Rory said.

  Brooke laughed. “You might be right. Too soon to tell. Besides, Lloyd is still in the picture.”

  Dinner finished with an amazing chocolate bread pudding. A little dizzy, she stumbled when she stood up. The women sat her down and cleaned up, excusing her from helping.

  “I think our star executive needs help getting home,” Miranda said.

  “I’m fine. Besides, I’m only going to Nan’s. I’m going to stay over there in her guest room.”

  Bess cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  “Watch.” She zigzagged her way across the room. “See. I’m okay. Only four glasses of wine.” Her cell rang. “It’s Lloyd. Probably a booty call. Stick it.” She closed her phone and plucked her jacket off the arm of the chair.

  Her friends fastened Freddy and Ginger to their leashes and walked her downstairs.

  “It’s only two blocks. I’ll be okay. Go home, ladies.” Brooke shooed them on their way and headed uptown. She proceeded slowly, deliberately, knowing she wasn’t sober enough to be making her way home alone, but too embarrassed to admit it to her friends.

  The pugs began to bark. Brooke tried to shush them, but they refused to quiet down. Another noisy dog drew her attention. It was Buddy. Her eyes drifted up the tall, powerful frame of Preston Carpenter. Serendipity?

  “Well, well, we meet again.” He strolled over to her, grinning.

  He looked good, very good. His shoulders and chest strained his T-shirt. Tight jeans outlined muscular thighs. How does a writer have such a good body? He must work out.

  “Do you work out?” she blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

  “How’d you guess?”

  She widened her eyes and continued to laugh.

  “Been drinking, have we?”

  She nodded. “A bit. A couple glasses of wine with friends. No biggie.”

  “Where’s your other half?”

  His words stung like a dozen bees. Her chest constricted. “He’s not my other half,” she said, wobbling a little.

  Pres caught her elbow in his large hand. “Oh?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “A little unsteady here. Where’re you going?”

  “To Nan’s to return the dogs.”

  “And then?”

  “I’m spending the night.”

  “That’s good. You’re not in any shape to go home alone.”

  She raised her chin. “Says you.”

  “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

  She ripped from his grasp. “Don’t do me any favors. I’m okay. I can make it on my own. I have been for a long time. I don’t need Lloyd, and I don’t need you.” She stumbled, starting to fall as the dogs pulled her toward the corner.

  Pres caught her. “You need help.”

  She looked up into his concerned eyes, and her control went south. “I do. I do need help. I do,” she said, as tears flooded her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. She fisted his shirt, burying her face in his chest, and sobbed.

  Pres folded his arms around her, holding her steady against him. “Damn. Honey,” he whispered, as he kissed her hair.

  Brooke fastened hers around him in a vise-like grip. Unable to catch her breath, she hiccupped instead.

  “Easy, easy, sweetheart.” Pres spoke, as if to a panicked horse. “Slow down.”

  She fought to control her emotions. Gulping air, she turned her head, resting her cheek on his pecs. He stroked her back. Her erratic breathing slowed.

  “What’s the matter, Brooke?” He didn’t move.

  She took one shuddering breath. “My world is collapsing.”

  “Ruth’s all right?”

  “Yes. But my working world, my love life, it’s all going to hell.”

  “You’ll recover. You’re smart. You’ll pull it together.”

  She shook her head. “Not this time.” She pushed away from him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her face. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to cry all over you.”

  “Anytime.”

  She gave a feeble smile. “I’ve had a rotten day.”

  “I figured,” he said. “You can fix things tomorrow. Except with that boss guy. Give him up. Make room for someone new.”

  “You?”

  “Why not?”

  “My feelings aren’t faucets with on/off switches.”

  “Sorry if I’m rushing you.”

  “Can we be friends?” She watched his brow furrow and a frown form on his perfect lips.

  “Ouch. Kiss of death,” he muttered.

  “Please?”

  “I suppose.”

  She cupped his cheek. “Thanks. A friend is what I need right now.”

  Pres slung his arm around her waist and escorted her to the apartment. Brooke leaned against him. His solid body comforted her. A deep breath brought his pleasant scent of maleness and Ivory soap to her. The dogs trotted along behind.

  He deposited her at the door.

  Ruth raised her eyebrows when she saw them. “Help me get her inside?”

  “I can walk.”

  “Right,” Pres said. He carried Brooke into the guest bedroom and laid her down on the bed while Ruth unleashed the dogs. He grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under her head.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, her eyes closing as Pres turned out the light and shut the door.

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday morning Brooke called in sick. Her head was splitting. This was the worst hangover she’d ever had. Or did she say that about every hangover? A rueful smile spread her lips. She was relieved Lloyd hadn’t questioned her and accepted her fake illness as her reason for not answering the phone the night before. She took her time returning home, stopping for supplies on the way.

  She put the movie Austenland on the television and indulged her passion for romance and Jane Austen while sucking down a pint of mint chip ice cream. Nothing cures a hangover like mint chip. The Dinner Club women called her to check in and see how she was, but no word from Pres. Brooke wondered if she had said or done something to turn him off and was surprised that it mattered. He’s a friend. That’s all.

  On Wednesday, she dressed in her most conservative suit and blouse. Time to get the truth. She marched into Lloyd’s office. But this time, she didn’t carry in his coffee. “Okay, I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Good news! Pete Walters has agreed to move you to another account.”

  “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. The Green Leaf account, for now. He vowed to put you on the first new one we get. Hopefully, they’ll only be absorbing your salary for a couple of months.”

  “Green Leaf, the environmental charity account?” “Chip Melton works on that. He doesn’t know anything.”

  “Careful. He’s your new boss.”

  “What?” Brooke rose up from her chair. “I refuse to report to that nu
mbskull.”

  “He’s the management supervisor.”

  “I know more than he does. What’s he even doing working here?”

  “I think he’s Jerry Gibbon’s son-in-law.”

  Brooke sank back down. “That explains it. Isn’t anything done here based on merit?”

  “I resent that. I’m here on merit.”

  “You’re right, Lloyd. I’m sorry.”

  “Hang in there for a couple months. I’m sure something new will come in, and you’ll be back on top again.”

  Brooke didn’t believe him.

  “If you’re not happy with this, you can always talk to Pete yourself.”

  “I might just do that.” Brooke thrust out her chin.

  Lloyd’s mouth curled down. He met her gaze with angry eyes. “Go ahead. Be a fucking asshole. I already begged on your behalf. You could at least be grateful.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  Lloyd stood up. “You should know this business by now. You don’t need to do anything wrong. If someone above you doesn’t like the way you part your hair, you’re gone. No explanations. Not honest ones, anyway.”

  She gripped his arm. “Please, Lloyd. I can’t lose this job. I need to pay my rent.”

  He cupped her chin, his cool, blues eyes stared into hers. “I know, baby. I know.”

  Back in her office, there was an email from Chip Melton. He wanted to meet with her. She refreshed her lipstick and marched into his office. He closed the door. An hour later, she returned to hers with a pile of secretarial tasks. Brooke gritted her teeth and got started.

  Three weeks of busy work and errand running for Chip Melton had Brooke on edge. Lloyd had been tied up every night and weekend in strategy sessions, creative brainstorming, and launching a new campaign. She hadn’t seen him since she’d moved onto the Greenleaf account.

  She missed him terribly. In the past, late night and weekend work they had done together often ended up in lovemaking at her place, Chinese food, and ice cream sundaes. She’d been his right hand for the past six months, which included three major new business pitches. She had loved working and being with Lloyd.

  Now, she hated what she was doing and had no respect for Chip. She watched Lloyd and Brian, his new account supervisor, working hard and wished with all her heart she could join them. She knew the Lady Gray account like the back of her hand.