But Not For Me

He drove to an older part of town and pulled into the parking lot of a red-brick building from the 1930s. Someday he’d have his own building or a large suite of offices in a prestigious office complex.

Brad stood by his truck and waited for Ms. Wood to pull into the space next to him. Three parking spaces were marked with signs saying Reserved for Phillips Construction Company.

Here was physical proof that he had moved up in the business world. With Ms. Wood’s help, there would be no stopping the company’s growth.

Of course, the future wasn’t reflected in his account ledgers just yet, but he knew the money would be there in the next few years.

They took the elevator to the third floor without speaking. The office was on the top floor, with a nice view of downtown Dallas.

He walked to the end of the hall and unlocked the door with a frosted-glass window. With a slight bow, he stepped back and waved her through the open doorway.

She stepped into the newly renovated space and stopped. “Oh, my. I wasn’t expecting anything quite this large.”

He shrugged. “Well, I figured that since I’m going to be here for a while I’d take the space while it was available. Besides, there will be offices for my site supervisors—when I get them—and I’ll need an office, as will you. Eventually there needs to be a place for a receptionist—”

She turned and faced him with raised brows. “I thought I was going to be your receptionist?”

He nodded. “Sure, at first. But the way I see it, some day you’ll be my administrative assistant with a secretary of your own. That is, if you want to invest your time and energy into making all of this work.”

She walked to one of the windows and looked out. The two men he’d pulled off his crew to finish the place had left everything where they’d been working at quitting time, thinking no one would see the mess. Brad was so used to the clutter of renovation that he’d been oblivious to the mess until now. Seeing the place through her eyes, he could understand that she might not be quite as impressed as he’d hoped.

When she turned away from the window, she looked around at the large open space, her brows raised slightly. “Are you sure this will be finished by Monday? That’s less than a week away.”

“No problem. We’ll finish a few rooms now and leave the rest of the area for storage. Since none of my clients ever see my office, there’s no reason to get fancy.”

She nodded thoughtfully as she continued to inspect the space.

He waited, not wanting to push her. He’d given her the best pitch he could. The decision was hers. He wished there was some way he could show her his vision for the company. There were no guarantees, of course, but he knew that hard work could produce amazing results.

Brad watched while she stepped over and around the clutter and studied the layout from a drawing pinned to one of the walls. Without turning, she asked, “I’m presuming that you’ll have furniture?”

He laughed. “It’ll be delivered Monday. It’s used but in good shape.”

She continued to prowl until she’d seen everything. Rachel walked to where he stood and asked, “What time do you want me here on Monday?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the company was on its way.

Since then they’d been a team. They had worked together smoothly and efficiently for eight years. He had a hunch that was due more to her diplomacy than to his communication skills. Once he got to know her, Brad discovered Rachel to be as conservative and well-bred as she had appeared to be at the interview. She had a strong work ethic, which he appreciated.

Rachel worked every day for years, through blistering heat waves, drenching downpours, occasional winter sleet storms and once when she’d had the flu.

So where was she today?

Brad didn’t want to contemplate what would happen if Rachel weren’t there to help him run the company. She’d taken on the administrative side of things, leaving him free to do what he did best, build commercial projects.

Within three years, they’d hired more people, including Janelle. Before long, Accounting needed a leader—so he’d hired Arthur. Eventually Rich Harmon took the helm as office manager.

Rachel continued to amaze him. She accompanied him to business dinners with potential clients. She rarely spoke, and if the visitors thought she was there as arm candy, their assumption gave him an advantage. Rachel had a gift—she was a wizard at interpreting expressions, body language and what was implied but not said.

Later, she gave him her impressions of the people and how best to provide what they wanted. Together they would work out proposals with the added data she’d provided. Within a couple of years, Rachel had become more of a partner in the business than a mere assistant. He brought up the idea of making her a partner on more than one occasion. She had refused to discuss the matter with him.

Their present relationship disturbed him not only because she would not accept the partnership she deserved, but because of his attraction to her.

Brad disliked the thought that he was taking advantage of her. She was his business equal, but they both knew he was nowhere near her social equal.

He had never acted on his initial attraction to her. The fear that she might leave the company if he suggested they date had kept him from doing or saying anything that might offend her.

Several weeks ago, they had dinner together to celebrate another first for Phillips Construction Company—their first out-of-state job.

Not only was the new project not in Texas, it wasn’t a commercial building—another first. One of his clients had asked him to bid on a second home for him and his wife to be built in the mountains near Asheville, North Carolina.

Brad ignored the dire predictions of Carl Jackson, his senior supervisor and project manager. Carl pointed out to Brad that constructing a residence was considerably different from building commercial projects. Generally speaking, the project manager had to deal with a wife, which could be a real pain.

Brad had laughed and told him that he had the experience to cope. Carl had not been amused, but he’d taken the assignment, as Brad had known he would.

Carl had been invited to join the dinner celebration but had declined, saying the time to celebrate would be after the project was completed.

Brad and Rachel didn’t see it that way. They were too excited about another avenue opening up for the company. They’d reminisced over their salads, entrées, desserts and coffee about the years they’d worked together, recounting stories to each other. The evening lingered in his memory. He’d been lighthearted and filled with a buoyancy that occurred when he was around Rachel.

Rachel Wood was his best friend. Actually, she was his only friend. He didn’t have time to socialize. He felt comfortable with her. In addition, he trusted her. He trusted few people.

Where was she this morning?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the intercom. He blinked, wondering how long he’d been daydreaming.

“Yes?” he asked. Then he knew exactly how long he’d been lost in his thoughts when Janelle said, “Mr. Simmons is here.”

“Thanks,” he said, heroically not groaning in her ear. “Have him come in.”

Brad straightened in his chair and prepared himself for another boring meeting.

Simmons stepped silently into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He looked around the room.

“Isn’t Ms. Wood going to be here?” he asked, not bothering to hide his dismay at the prospect of dealing with Brad on his own.

Brad could certainly sympathize with Arthur’s obvious discomfort. “She’s been detained for some reason,” he replied briskly. “I’m certain we can manage to struggle through your reports without her.”

Simmons sat in one of the padded chairs in front of Brad’s desk. He placed a stack of folders precisely in front of him and pushed his wire-rimmed eyeglasses to the bridge of his nose, where they promptly slid to their original resting place.

He cleared his throat unhappily. “I was hoping that Ms. Wood would be able to—” he began before Brad interrupted.

“So was I, but she’s not here. So let’s get on with it.”

Simmons flinched and Brad silently cursed. Rachel, he thought, you’d better have a darned good reason for leaving me alone with Arthur. Otherwise I’ll make you pay for this—big time.

Forty-five minutes later, just as Brad’s eyes had begun to roll to the back of his head, his prayers were answered. Rachel opened the door to his office, looking as she always did, impeccably dressed and carrying a briefcase—the epitome of the modern businesswoman.

It was all Brad could do not to throw himself at her feet and beg her never to desert him like this again.

Now that he knew she was safe, he felt the beginnings of irritation seep into his consciousness. Couldn’t she have called? If she hadn’t intended to be here at the usual time, was there any reason why she couldn’t have shown him the courtesy of advising him of that fact?

He met her eyes and realized that whatever had delayed her wasn’t good. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look so fragile. She had the same stricken look she’d worn when she’d gotten the news that her mother was terminally ill.

What in the world had happened?

Rachel walked to the desk, took the chair next to Arthur and gracefully seated herself.

“I apologize for my tardiness, gentlemen,” she said calmly. “Now then, where are we?” she asked, picking up the stack of papers that Simmons had placed in front of her chair earlier.

By the time the meeting was finally over, Brad’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth. Rachel walked Simmons to the door, spoke a few—no doubt kind—words to him and smiled at his almost inaudible response.

She closed the door behind him and turned to Brad. “I apologize for coming into work so late and for not calling to let you know.” She walked back to her chair and sat before she continued. “I need to take a leave of absence, Brad. If that’s not convenient for you, I certainly can understand that you might wish to replace me.”

Chapter Two

Brad stared at her in shock…glad he was seated. Otherwise he would have made a fool of himself when his knees gave way at her calm announcement.

Rachel had just verbalized his greatest fear, only he hadn’t known it until now. The constriction in his chest made it difficult for him to breathe. He wondered if he were having a heart attack.

She sat there, waiting for him to say something.

His mind was blank. She intended to take a leave of absence? When he’d had trouble getting through a morning without her?

Then it hit him. She was kidding! “All right,” he said with a grin, “what is this? Are you hitting me up for another raise? If so, consider yourself successful.”

Rachel leaned forward in her chair. “I know this comes as a shock to you, Brad, and I’m sorry if my being away is going to inconvenience you. After seriously considering all of my options, I believe my getting away for a while will be best for all concerned.”

She wasn’t kidding.

He swallowed hard, hanging on to his control so that he didn’t pound the desk and bellow at her. Not that she hadn’t witnessed some of that behavior over the years, but it had never been aimed at her. Desolation swept over him at the idea that Rachel could so casually walk away from the business she had helped to create.

“Do I have any say in your decision or is it already written in stone?” he asked mildly. Only his clenched hands resting on the desk gave away his agitation. If she happened to notice.

Rachel sighed and looked toward the window for a long moment before turning back to him. “I haven’t wanted to bother you with any of this,” she finally said.

“Too late. I’m bothered. Now, what the hell is going on, Rachel?”

She leaned back in her chair and gave him a level stare. “Would it help if I told you it is personal and has nothing to do with the business?”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?” she asked, frowning.

He leaned forward. “You have no idea how difficult I’m going to be if you don’t start explaining—now—what has happened.” He enunciated each word with utmost precision.

Rachel sat up, clasping her hands tightly on the desk. “A few weeks ago I found an anonymous note in my apartment building mailbox. I’d never had anything like that happen to me before.”

“What did it say?”

“I don’t remember exactly. It was signed ‘Your Secret Admirer.’ The notes didn’t bother me at first—”

“Notes? You received more than one?”

She nodded. “They arrived every week or so and said things like ‘I’m so glad I know you…I want to spend time with you’…that sort of thing. As time passed the notes became more…more…personal.” She flushed. “They stated how much the writer wanted to hold me, kiss me…and…um…”

Brad could see she was uncomfortable discussing the matter with him.

“I threw the notes away as soon as I found them. I tried to ignore them because I knew there was nothing I could do. The police said the same thing.”

Brad froze. “The police?”

“Yes. That’s where I’ve been this morning…talking with the police.”

Brad didn’t like what he was hearing. She’d been receiving anonymous notes that had caused her to report them to the police and had never mentioned them to him. He wondered why? Did she truly see him as no more than her boss?

“What happened that made you go to the police?”

She bit her bottom lip and he realized she was trembling. “I arrived home late last night and immediately went to bed. This morning I took my shower and dressed as I usually do. When I went to my dresser to pick out a pair of earrings, I noticed there was a folded note lying on top of the dresser. I don’t know how long it had been there.”

Brad almost came out of his chair in outrage but knew he had to hang on to his temper until she told him the details. It took real effort for him to remain calm while he listened to her.

“At first I thought it was from my cleaning lady—she’d been there the day before—but she generally leaves a message by the kitchen phone. When I opened it, I saw it was signed ‘Your Secret Admirer.’”

Rachel had been looking at her hands during her recital. Now she looked up at him. She looked terrified. She struggled to sound calm as she said, “Whoever this is was inside my apartment either yesterday or last night. I immediately called my cleaning lady, but she said she hadn’t seen anyone. As I told the police, whoever wrote it could have placed it there while I was asleep for all I know.” She covered her eyes for a moment, then went on. “I panicked when I saw the note. For a moment I even imagined he was still there, lurking in my closet, but then I remembered I would have seen him when I got dressed. All I knew was I had to get out of the apartment. So I went to the police.”

Brad went back to her earlier statement. “They told you there is nothing they can do?”

“Basically. After waiting for over an hour to speak to someone, I told the man on duty what happened. He listened, asked questions and typed up the report. I gave him the note I’d found, the only one I’d kept. He asked if I’d recently broken up with a boyfriend who might have a key to my place! I was upset by the suggestion. I told him no, of course. He said that even though the note suggested someone had unlawfully entered my apartment, they didn’t have the manpower to check out this kind of complaint. He suggested I might want to leave town for a while.”

“This is why you intend to take a leave of absence?”

She nodded. “I don’t think I can sleep there again, knowing that someone can get into the apartment without my knowledge. I thought I’d take some time off and decide what to do. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed working here, but until I’ve come up with some kind of resolution for this matter, I don’t think I’d be much use to the company.”

Now it was Brad’s turn to panic. There was no way he was going to let her walk out of here and go who knows where. He’d be worried sick about her. What if the guy followed her? She still wouldn’t be safe.

Thinking furiously, Brad said, “I can certainly understand your concerns, Rachel,” he began. “I believe if we sit down together and assess what has happened, we can—” The intercom interrupted him.

Not bothering to hide his irritation at the interruption, he punched the button and growled, “Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” were Janelle’s first words. “Carl is on line three and says he needs to talk to you now. What would you like me to tell him?”

“I’ll take it,” he said with resignation. Business continued despite the bombshell Rachel had dropped on him.

Hitting the button for the speakerphone, he said, “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

“I’m ready to turn in my resignation on this one, Brad. I’ve just about had it!”

Brad glanced at Rachel. “There seems to be a lot of that going around these days. What’s up?”

“Thomas Crossland’s wife turned up at the site two weeks ago and has taken responsibility for overseeing the construction of their home. She’s made it clear that she is not pleased with what’s being done. Today she informed me that she wanted an immediate meeting with you—on-site, mind you—for a full explanation of why we continue to ignore her many suggestions to improve her home.”

“Where’s Tom?”

“Who knows? Hell, he’s probably gone into hiding until the house is finished. Look, I know how much you wanted the opportunity to expand our market, but I’m telling you right now, if we manage to get through this project without being sued or losing our shirts over her costly proposed changes, I’ll consider us way ahead of the game.”

Carl had been with him since the beginning, and Brad learned a long time ago to listen to him. If he said the situation was serious, Brad believed him. Hearing the testiness in Carl’s voice, Brad deliberately used a light tone when he replied, “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Carl snapped back. “When can you get here?”

Brad hadn’t taken his eyes off Rachel during the conversation. His brain kicked into high gear. Maybe this could be used to his advantage. He did not want to lose Rachel, even for a few days, much less weeks or months.

He mentally reviewed his schedule and realized that nothing had gone according to plan since he had arrived that morning to discover Rachel was missing. He scanned his appointment book, then answered Carl.

“I should be able to be in Asheville by five or thereabout.”

Carl gave a sigh of relief. “Great. I’ll be there to meet you. We’re about forty miles from Asheville. I can fill you in on the particulars on our way back.”

“Sounds good to me. Oh, and Carl?”

“Yeah?” Carl sounded much better already.

“Take the rest of the day off…boss’s orders.”

Carl’s rumbling laugh filled the room, causing Rachel to smile. “You don’t have to say that twice. See ya around five,” he replied and hung up.

Brad broke the connection, then hit the speed dial. When a voice answered, he asked, “Steve, how soon can you have the plane ready?”

Without hesitation, Steve Parsons, the pilot of the company’s jet, replied, “Within the hour. Where are we going?”

“Asheville, North Carolina. Rachel and I will grab a quick bite to eat and see you at the hangar.” He hung up without looking at her and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“I can’t go to North Carolina with you, Brad! I need to pack to leave town as soon as possible. I thought I made that clear to you.”

Brad smiled and spread his arms in an expansive movement. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what you’re doing. I think Carl has inadvertently come up with the perfect solution. You can leave town and continue to work.”

Her exasperation with him almost made him laugh. He felt better already. He was buying time until he could think of something else. She’d sprung this on him today, while she had been dealing with it for some time.

“Going to North Carolina is a temporary fix, Brad.” She sounded as though she were attempting to reason with an obstinate child.

He nodded, feeling better the more he thought about his impromptu plan. “Of course it’s temporary, but the trip will give us time to look at other options that don’t include your taking a leave of absence,” he replied, using the same reasoning tone of voice.

“I’ve already gone over the options.” She was beginning to sound downright testy. “This is the best one.”

“How do you know? Maybe I’ll think of something you haven’t considered. What do you have to lose?”

She shook her head. “It’s just postponing the inevitable, Brad, and you know it.”

“Humor me, all right?” He stood and walked around the desk. “Let’s go find something to eat before we head to the airport.”

“I can’t go with you without advance notice. I need some clothes. I—”

“You can buy anything you need there. Let’s go.” He picked up his briefcase, which always carried a fresh shirt, underwear and socks—but he saw no reason to apprise her of that fact—and on impulse grabbed her hand to assist her out of her chair. The unexpected contact startled them both.

From the day he had hired her, Brad had deliberately refrained from physical contact with Rachel. He’d decided that keeping her at a safe distance would be the wisest course of action.

Rachel stood and immediately removed her hand from his. She made it obvious that she was not pleased with his solution. “This isn’t a good idea, you know,” she argued valiantly, but she knew him well enough by now to know he wouldn’t give in.

“On the contrary,” he replied with a grin. “I’m convinced I’ve come up with a brilliant piece of strategy. C’mon, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

She followed him through his office door, no doubt continuing to marshal her arguments, he thought.

He stopped at his secretary’s desk. “Janelle, cancel any appointments Rachel and I have for the rest of the week.” He looked at his watch and grimaced. “Rich is no doubt somewhere having lunch.”

Richard Harmon had taken on the onerous task of office manager five years ago. He had excellent skills for keeping the place running smoothly. Since Brad and Rachel were seldom gone at the same time, Brad had never had to rely on Rich’s ability to take over the reins of the company. This might be an excellent opportunity to see how well he handled the responsibility.

“Please send a memo to Rich and tell him we’ll both be out of town for the next few days and that he’s in charge. If he needs to contact me, I’ll have my cell phone with me. Be sure to give him that number. If anything comes up that he doesn’t feel qualified to handle, tell him I want him to contact me immediately.” Janelle wrote the instructions down, keeping up with him with seeming ease.

Janelle Andrews had come to work for the company five years ago as well. In her late forties, Janelle was a human dynamo, keeping up with the paperwork for both of them without showing stress or strain. Brad appreciated the fact that Janelle did not gossip, kept her work confidential and had a pleasant disposition. He knew he’d been fortunate to gather together such a solid, dependable staff.

Janelle quickly scanned the appointment book, reminding him of what appointments were being canceled. He suggested that she reschedule all of them for early next week. “Explain that an emergency called me out of town,” he concluded.

She smiled and said, “Have a safe trip,” including both of them in the statement.

Brad turned, and he and Rachel followed the hallway into the large reception area. Melinda, the young receptionist, smiled at them. Brad nodded and walked toward the company’s entrance—double glass doors bearing the inscription Phillips Construction Company.

Brad mentally ran through what Rachel had told him—while they waited for the elevator, rode down to the basement parking garage and walked to his sleek sports car.