Chapter Three
Present Day
This was it.This was how I would finally lose what was left of my sanity.
Jordan Hawke was going to push me over the edge.
I’m sure many people would say it was my own damn fault because I didn’t talk to him. They’d probably be right, but my pride wouldn’t listen anyway.
Rejection was a harsh bedfellow and I didn’t want to sleep with that bitter taste on my tongue. I’d had enough of that particular flavor when Jordan left two years ago. Still, that didn’t mean that seeing him on a daily basis didn’t dredge up all the feelings I thought I’d left behind.
Especially since every available woman at the firm, and even some of the married ones, seemed determined to flirt with him. In the staff kitchen. In the hall. In the goddamn elevator.
Women flirting with Jordan was something I’d grown accustomed to in the past, but it was the fact that he now returned their attentions that slid under my skin and stayed there.
He might not be mine and I might be (mostly) over him, but my heart still didn’t like it.
As for how Jordan treated me…well, he treated me with perfect professional courtesy. It shouldn’t have set my teeth on edge. It should have made me happy, thrilled even, that our past affair wouldn’t affect our working relationship now.
Instead, every time he said good-morning in that formal, accented tone, I wanted to scream. Why wasn’t he as affected by me as I was by him? Why didn’t he seem the least bit uncomfortable when we were forced to stand inches apart in the elevator but pretend to be nothing but friendly colleagues?
I didn’t know how much longer I could take it. For the first time since I’d accepted a position at Platt, Cairns, and Buck, I was giving serious thought to turning in my resignation.
Tonight was by far the worst. Milton Buck had finally, officially retired. In the two months since the announcement that Jordan had joined the firm, he’d been delegating and handing over responsibilities.
His wife insisted on celebrating her husband’s retirement with a huge party. Though Lucille liked parties, she had truly outdone herself with this one.
Their palatial home was crowded with employees from the law firm, friends of Milton, judges, and quite a few well-known Dallas socialites. I had ridden with Cynthia in the hopes that we could sneak out early. While she had the valid excuse of a college course the next morning, my only motive was to avoid spending too much time around Jordan Hawke.
It seemed that my best intentions were blown to hell because I’d never made it more than five feet away from the man the entire night. Several times we’d been forced together by the crush of the crowd, our bodies pressed together from shoulder to thigh.
Two hours into the evening, I was more than ready to leave. It was after ten and Cynthia had mentioned wanting to go home since her class began at nine the next morning.
I moved through the crowd, searching for my assistant’s mane of sleek blonde hair. When I couldn’t find her in the front rooms, I began to work my way toward the back of the house. There were a few smokers loitering on the large patio in the rear of the house. Though Cynthia claimed she didn’t smoke, I knew she occasionally indulged when groups of us from the office met for happy hour.
As I walked down the hall, I realized that my head was pounding from the noise and wine I’d consumed. The cold air that greeted me when I stepped onto the patio only made it worse. I glanced around and didn’t see my assistant, so I went back inside. I decided to take a few moments in a quiet room before I continued my search.
I wandered down a hallway until I found an open door to what appeared to be a sitting room. A lamp on a side table gave the room a soft, comforting glow, so I didn’t bother with the light. I sank onto the couch, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back, focusing on breathing slow and deep. I lost track of time, but the ache in my head and neck eased as I gradually relaxed.
Suddenly, the air seemed to change. I knew without looking that someone had entered the room. When the door clicked shut, I lifted my head and looked toward the sound. All the tension that had drained out of my body returned immediately when I saw Jordan standing just inside the room.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded stiffly, getting to my feet. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Jordan tucked his hands into his pants pockets, still standing in front of the door. “I’ve been trying to find a moment to talk to you since I came back.” The corner of his mouth lifted up in a crooked half-smile. As I had two years before, I felt that smile in my chest.
“Really?” I asked, relieved that my voice sounded cool, nearly distant. “Why is that?”
His head tilted and the smile on his face disappeared completely. “So you fully intend to continue treating me as someone you barely know?”
Before I could reconsider my words, I replied, “You are someone I barely know.”
Jordan’s voice was low, almost pleasant when he asked, “Pardon?”
I licked my suddenly dry lips. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the air growing heavier and thicker as though it were weighted down by emotion. It was a sensation I’d never experienced around Jordan before. During the short time we spent together, he kept his emotions locked down tightly. I never knew what he was thinking or feeling unless he chose to share it with me.
“Jordan, we had a casual affair two years ago. We didn’t exactly share our deepest secrets and dreams.” It was the truth. While we did talk, it was always focused on the present or future, never the past. I knew nothing about his childhood or his parents and I hadn’t shared much of my own history.
