Chapter Six
TGIF
Jordan was surprised at how long it took for Friday to roll around and more importantly, how nervous he was that Charlotte wouldn’t show up. It was laughable, really. But he found himself looking forward to sparring with her. Sure, she’d agreed to spend the weekend with him—for a fee, he wasn’t going to forget that. But he was pretty sure she was going to be a challenge. He hoped so, anyway.
At half past two, he gave up on concentrating on reports. Half the office was packing up for the day already, the benefits of the flextime system he’d introduced. Surely he could afford to knock off early, just once. Buddy had flown out of town for a fishing trip he claimed had been booked for months, but Jordan suspected it was just an excuse to avoid the engagement party.
“I’m heading off,” called Joyce. She’d stopped calling him Mr. Lovett, at least. That could only be his father, as far as Jordan was concerned. On the downside, she now didn’t call him anything at all.
“Have a great weekend, Joyce.”
“I will! My son is surprising me with opera tickets for tonight!” She beamed at him. “I’ve guessed but I won’t tell him that. He loves to surprise me. Last month he got us reservations at the top restaurant in Riverside! I’m lucky to have such a good son.”
“He’s lucky to have a mom like you.”
Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry, Jordan. I didn’t think.”
“Go on, you, enjoy your evening out!” He waved her away and shuffled his paperwork, to make it clear he was busy. She smiled apologetically and left.
Everyone here knew Jordan’s mother had died when he was seven, she was the boss’ wife, after all. George Lovett threw himself into his work, by all accounts. Meanwhile, Jordan was packed off to boarding school, where he’d spent the next ten years, coming home only for school vacation and only when he had to. Life in his father’s house was a countless parade of business meetings and going out with the boys for whiskey and cigars—nothing of interest to a young boy. Jordan was jealous of his friends who went camping or fishing or even on family holidays. Jordan was just expected to keep quiet and stay out of the way and for god sakes don’t get the cream carpet dirty. His only friend in the sprawling house was Maria, the housekeeper, who was always happy to see him and would make all his favorite meals. Maria was the only person he was looking forward to seeing this weekend.
And where the hell was Charlotte? He glanced at his watch for the seventeenth time. Still five minutes to three, she wasn’t even late yet. Nevertheless, he started gathering up his things and signed out of the computer. If she hadn’t arrived by 3pm on the dot, he was leaving without her. She’d better be there.
“Ahem.” Spoken as a word, not a clearing of the throat.
He looked up to see her standing there, a vision in cream. Her hair was pulled back loosely, with loose strands framing her face, which had just a smidgen of makeup. She was wearing a light suit with a knee-length skirt and matching heels. She looked completely different from before: sophisticated and confident. He was staring. Only now did he realize she was chewing her bottom lip, waiting for his reaction. “Wow,” he said.
“Oh, thank God.” She gave him a nervous smile. “I mean, I’m glad you like it.”
He got up and circled around her like a judge at a fashion show. The tattoo was intriguing. He would have to ask her about that. But now was not the time. “Your outfit is perfect. And you look absolutely stunning.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Her voice was full of sarcasm. She acted like she didn’t care but her cheeks had flushed a fetching color of pink. He was pretty sure she wanted him to like what he saw. And he did. He also liked the fact that at the end of the weekend, she was going to simply disappear out of his life. He would never admit it to Buddy, but it was just what he needed.
“I realized I didn’t have your number,” he said. “Or really anything except your name.” He had her though, which was all he really needed. Thank Christ, he managed to avoid saying such a stupid thought out loud.
She furrowed her brow and rummaged through her hand bag, pulling out a cheap-looking black phone. “I just have to look up my number.”
He watched her poke at it. What kind of working woman didn’t know her own phone number? That couldn’t be good for business. Or maybe she changed it often. She eventually found it and added his to her phone at the same time.
He was surprised at his impatience considering how long he’d been avoiding going home. Now he just wanted the weekend to start. “Right, come on, let’s get out of here.” The truth was, he was actually looking forward to this trip. He reached out to take her hand. She looked at it and then at him. She picked up her suitcase pointedly ignoring his hand. Oh, it was like that, was it?
“Sorry,” he mumbled. He’d never have guessed an escort could be so prickly! He grabbed his briefcase with a sigh and let her out the door. Getting her to loosen up would be a challenge but it was one he was happy to take on.