Chapter4

Emma

Back at my desk, I tried not to grin like a giant goofball. I didn't know when I'd grown a pair, but apparently I had, and they'd given me the courage to invite Jack over for dinner. I'd only ever asked a guy out once, and he'd been nowhere near as hot as Jack.

You didn't ask him out. You invited him for dinner at your family's house. Where you, a 25 year old woman, still live.

I ignored my inner voice, focusing instead on the night to come. When I'd seen the look in his eyes when I'd asked about how he was settling in, I realized how lonely it could be. Jack was from Savannah and he likely still had family and friends here, but a decade abroad could change a lot of things.

Not to mention that Jack hadn't been a big fan of his family before he'd shipped out. In high school he'd spent an increasing amount of time at their house, sleeping in Matt's room a few nights a week. Although he hadn't talked about it, she figured that things at home weren’t the best. It had likely figured into his decision to go into the military. Uncle Sam would help him get far away. And so he'd gone, and taken her brother with him.

I was glad that he'd finally opened up in the gun safe. I'd had to drag it out of him, but the tension had finally broken between them. If we were going to work together, we needed to establish a line of communication. I was used to dealing with military men, knew that sometimes they kept their own counsel. But I couldn't do the job if I was left out of the loop. Which meant we had to keep the guys talking.

I respect the strong and silent type, but a man who can communicate well is rarer than a unicorn.

Jack seemed like he might be a tough nut to crack than most, but I was more than up to the task. A tasty dinner and some amusing conversation would stand in for the typical "team building," officemates might do.

But team building wasn't exactly what I had on my mind. I was already wishing that it was just the two of us for dinner. That we'd be surrounded by candles, and that we'd finish the night with a bottle of wine and some light making out. Maybe he'd get to second base.

Jesus, Emma, I chastised myself. Focus on the job, and not on your hot coworker, or you'll never get anything done.

Just then, Dad strolled up to my desk, handing the phone back over to me. His face took on a stern expression. "Listen, Emma dear. You're the office manager around here. If I'm in a meeting, you need to make it clear that I'm unavailable."

"Dad, I tried, but Jansen wouldn't--"

"There are always going to be clients like Jansen," he reminded me gently. "You gotta stick by your guns. What you say, goes."

I nodded. "I'll try harder, Dad." Then I changed the topic. "I invited Jack over for dinner tonight."
"Good girl," he said, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm going to give him his first assignment. He'll probably need a good meal to wash the taste out of his mouth." Then he headed off to the conference room to resume Jack's onboarding.

That afternoon, I left work early. If I was going to cook a dinner to impress our new employee, then I would need some supplies. Not that I had to impress him, mind you. It just seemed like the right thing to do for the guy. Wasn't it?

If I was being honest with myself, I'd admit that I'd been trying to impress Jack since I was twelve years old. He'd been my first real crush, the last name I'd attached to my own. Mrs. Emma Walsh.

He'd never paid me any attention in high school. He'd been polite but aloof, not at all interested in a dorky younger girl with braces and a stuffed unicorn collection. Not that I could blame him.

But I was an adult now, so surely the need to impress him should have faded, right? Instead, the need to not be ignored welled up inside her. He might have written her off in high school, but she'd be damned if he'd overlook her now.

Maybe it's time I grow the backbone Dad had been talking about.

Jack Walsh will notice me. Or else.

At home, she pulls out all the stops with a three-course Italian dinner. Dad and Matt stayed late at the office on a conference call with a potential client, and they arrived home shortly before Jack pulled up.

He was dressed in jeans that fit him like a second skin and a V-neck sweater. Compared to the suit this morning, Emma preferred this more casual look. She greeted him warmly when he stepped into the kitchen.

"Something smells good," he said with an eager grin.

"Sit down," she said, motioning towards the table. "It's ready to serve."

The guys dug in, and Jack was quick to compliment her on her cooking. She thanked him graciously, but her good mood slowly evaporates as shop talk began to consume the dinner conversation. Her dad and brother had a tendency to talk shop all the time, and now they were bringing Jack into their bad habit.

"Well, son," Dad said to Jack, "I hope you're ready for a trial by fire."

Oh no. Please don't be about to say what I think you're about to say.

"I'm ready for anything, Sir."

Dad cocked a bushy eyebrow. "I'm assigning you to Dexter Jansen."

"The guy on the phone today?"

I nodded. "Our new client."

Matt joined in. "He's a businessman who's entering production on a new product. He suspects a rival of resorting to corporate espionage to try and beat him to the market."

Dad took over. "It should be fairly standard. No real threat of danger. Just keeping an eye on anyone too interested in Dexter's movements."

I felt like Dad was downplaying the challenge of working with the jerk. "Can't you assign someone else to this detail? It's his first--"

"I can handle it," Jack interrupted, nodding in my father's direction.

"Good," Dad said, slapping him on the back. "I knew we could count on you. What say we grab a few beers and head out onto the porch to enjoy the end of the evening?"

The guys stood as one. Matt grabbed some beers from the fridge and they headed towards the back door. I could hear them talking about what strategy they'd established for the Jansen job.

I leaned back, feeling disappointed. I'd created a veritable feast, and what had I gotten for my efforts? Jack barely said two words to me. And now Dad had assigned him to Jansen, a class-A asshole.

Why doesn't anyone listen to me? Jack just got back from overseas, and he's clearly having some issues adjusting. So let's stick him on a protection detail with a guy who doesn't respect anyone without seven figures in the bank or more.

I began gathering the dishes, annoyed that they were out "enjoying the end of the evening" while she was here, cleaning up the meal that she'd had the decency to cook. Sometimes caring for her dad and brother seemed like more trouble than they were worth.

I'd just started the dishwasher when Jack entered the kitchen, his hands full of empty bottles. I took them from him, placing them in the recycling bin under the sink. "I'm sorry," he said, "I've been rude. I should have offered to help clean up."

His words melted some of the ice in my chest. "I've finished up now."

"Right," he said, lingering. "I owe you one, then." Jack opened the fridge and pulled out three more beers.

"I'm going to hold you to that," I said, leaning back against the counter.

He smiled, a slow smile that had me salivating. "I hope you do."

Then he walked out of the kitchen.

Man, I hated to see him go, but I loved watching him leave.