Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)

Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4) Page 4

That didn’t mean his mother shared his certainty about Alix, though. Still, Susan had always been polite, if a bit cool. Jordan got along exceptionally well with his parents, and the last thing Alix wanted to do was mess that up for him.

“You need something to take your mind off all this wedding business,” Jordan said.

“Like what?” She was eager to do anything that would help her get through the next few months.

“What about another knitting class?”

Alix bit her lip as she considered the idea. She nodded slowly. “Lydia was in the other day and we chatted for a few minutes. She’s always got classes going and she’s starting a new one for a prayer shawl.”

“What a great idea.”

“Who would I give it to, though?” Alix asked.

“What about my grandmother Turner?”

Alix knew immediately that this was the perfect suggestion. She’d met his grandmother for the first time over the Christmas holidays, shortly after Jordan had given her the engagement ring, and had felt an instant connection with the old woman. They’d talked for hours, finding that their views were surprisingly alike and laughing at the same corny jokes. Although well into her eighties, Grandma lived on her own and still managed to keep a large flower garden. Alix had called Grandma Turner several times since and been out to see her last month with Jordan.

“I’ll sign up for the class after work,” Alix told him.

“Good.” He sighed, as though relieved the matter was settled.

Alix leaned into Jordan and kissed him again. She wanted him to know how much she appreciated the fact that he’d come after her. She’d left before he’d begun to really listen to her. Before he’d taken her doubts and fears about this wedding seriously. But he was listening now.

She must have put a bit more emotion into the kiss than she’d realized because Jordan was breathing hard when they broke apart. He cleared his throat. “That was nice.”

“Yeah,” she agreed in a soft voice. “It was.”

Jordan pulled her back into his arms. “June can’t get here too soon as far as I’m concerned.”

“I second that,” Alix said with a laugh.

CHAPTER 3

Colette Blake

Colette suspected that Margaret from the yarn store had never meant for her to hear that comment. The truth was, she was running away; she was hiding…from Christian Dempsey, from her past and—mostly—from herself. Colette had been halfway up the stairs when Margaret’s words hit her square in the back and now, a week later, those words continued to sting. She felt an overwhelming urge to explain, but she resisted. How could she tell these two women she’d been a widow for a year but was two months pregnant? Life was full of ironies, to say the least. Bitter ironies…

For three years she and Derek had tried to have a baby with no success. Then…one slip. A one-night stand, and here she was, carrying the child of a man she’d hoped never to see again. The very thought of Christian Dempsey filled her with dread. How could she have worked as his personal assistant for five years and been so naively unaware of the kind of man he was? Losing Derek, her shocking discovery about Christian and now this unexpected pregnancy—it was enough to drive anyone to the brink of emotional collapse.

Memories of her dead husband always brought her a pang of loss. It shouldn’t hurt this much after a full year and yet it did. His death made no sense to her. Her guilt over the fight they’d had just before his accident, another fight about their fertility problems, didn’t help. Nevertheless, her husband was dead, and she had to deal with that reality. She hated it. She hated every minute of life without Derek.

It was so stupid that he’d died. So incredibly stupid. For the first few weeks, her anger at the unfairness of it had consumed her. Derek should never have gotten up on that roof in the first place. All it would’ve taken was a simple phone call, and a professional repairman could’ve come out to take care of the leak. Derek had no business even attempting it. However, he’d said that any delay would cause more damage and claimed the job was a “no-brainer.” Before she could stop him, he had the ladder up against the side of the house and a tool belt slung around his waist. This was his opportunity to use the tools he’d gotten for Christmas; she wondered if that was his real motivation, or part of it, anyway. So pointless. So foolish.

If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was the fact that Colette hadn’t witnessed his fall. A neighbor friend had been there, talking to Derek, when he lost his balance and slid off the roof onto the concrete driveway. The neighbor called 911 from his cell phone before Colette even knew anything was wrong. Derek had been rushed to the hospital and never regained consciousness.

Initially Colette had been in shock, and then, as soon as the fog cleared and her numbness dissipated, she became angry. Deeply, furiously angry. The anger was followed by a feeling of sadness and overpowering loss. But none of this was a good reason for what she’d done a couple of months ago.

Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment as she sat at the round oak table in her tiny kitchen. Covering her face with both hands, she relived the night of the company Christmas party.

Colette had been Christian Dempsey’s personal assistant for five years. That had come about in a completely unexpected way.

After working at Dempsey Imports in customs clearance, she’d been transferred to another floor near the corporate offices. Recently married, she was excited about her promotion to broker and the raise that went with it. She and Derek were just setting up house and with the added expenses of the honeymoon and the wedding, which they’d paid for themselves, the increase in pay had been a blessing.

Although she’d been with the company for two years, Colette had only seen Mr. Dempsey briefly and in passing. He was a man who exuded authority and power. He was frequently away from the office on foreign buying trips, and whenever he made an appearance, he seemed remote and preoccupied. This had probably contributed to the mystique that surrounded him. It didn’t hurt that he was six-three, solidly built and exceptionally good-looking. Heads turned anytime he walked into a room; he commanded that kind of respect and attention. Her first day on the second floor, Mr. Dempsey had arrived at work soon after she did and Colette, standing in the corridor between his office and her own department, had greeted him.

“Good morning, Mr. Dempsey.”

Those four words would forever change the course of her career—and her life.

He walked past her, with only the slightest acknowledgement of her greeting. It was then that she noticed everyone in the room watching her.

She waited until Christian Dempsey was inside his office, then gazed around her. People simply stared. Jenny, her boss, had a coffee mug half raised to her lips, her expression one of disbelief. Mark Taylor stood in front of a filing cabinet, shaking his head.

“Why’s everyone looking at me like that?” Colette asked.

Jenny set the coffee down on her desk and answered in a hushed whisper, “No one talks to Mr. Dempsey.”

“No one,” Mark reiterated.

Colette couldn’t imagine why not. He was flesh and blood like everyone else. Wishing him a good day was just the polite thing to do. But when she asked about it, she didn’t get a satisfactory response. Jenny sputtered, “Because he’s…because.” And Mark said, “Well, he’s very busy, you know.” None of which, in Colette’s view, justified the staff’s awed—or was it fearful?—reaction.

An hour later, she was summoned to Mr. Dempsey’s office by his assistant, who came to ask if she was the person who’d greeted him that morning. Her fellow workers cast her sympathetic looks as Colette rose from her desk and followed Dempsey’s assistant into the inner sanctum. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that Jenny was biting her lip. Mark waved as if to bid her farewell. Karen Christie and the others shrugged mournfully. Colette hadn’t known what to expect…except the worst.

Christian was working on his computer when she was ushered into his office. His assistant announced her name and left her standing there. Mr. Dempsey didn’t look up. Consequently, Colette felt like some minion called in, awaiting his notice. Her mouth had gone dry and she resisted blurting out that she loved her job and didn’t want to lose it. In nervous agitation she clenched her fists at her sides. When he finally deigned to glance in her direction, his eyes held hers.

“Are you the one who spoke to me?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” She probably should’ve apologized but she couldn’t make herself do it. The thought of losing her job because she’d been polite to her employer was ridiculous. And yet…She and Derek had made an offer on a house and needed her income to qualify for the loan. Everything would fall apart if she was fired.

“Why?”

“Why did I wish you a good morning?” she repeated, wanting to be sure she understood the question.

He gave her a half nod.

“Well,” she murmured, “I was just being courteous.”

“Are you new to the company?”

“I’ve worked here for two years.” Her throat felt scratchy but she refused to let him see how nervous she was by clearing it. Dempsey’s was currently the largest Seattle import company and one of the biggest on the West Coast.

He frowned as if he didn’t believe her. “I haven’t seen you before.”

Colette squared her shoulders. “I received a promotion from customs clearance on the fifth floor to working as a customs broker.”

He studied her in silence, and when he spoke, she found his question surprising. “Is that a wedding band on your finger?”

“I was married a few months ago.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know how to respond. Anything she said might be considered crossing the line between professional respect and what could be perceived as excessive familiarity.

“Peter is leaving my employment and I’m looking for a personal assistant. You’ll do.”

“Me?” Colette slapped her hand over her heart in astonishment. “What about HR? Shouldn’t they be sending you people to interview?”

“Do you want the job or not?”

“I…sure. Only…”

“I prefer to hire my own assistants. Now, are you interested?”

At that point, she should have asked any number of questions; instead, she nodded.

“Good. Peter will train you. I don’t know what you’re earning per hour, but from this point forward you’ll be salaried.” He named a figure that was three times more than her current rate. Colette nearly fainted.

“Thank you,” she managed to mumble. Before leaving, she almost curtsied, such was Christian’s effect on her.

That had been the beginning. For the next five years, she made Christian Dempsey’s travel arrangements, screened his calls, wrote his letters, did research of various kinds, checked contracts and hired translators. She also booked his tee times at the local country club, made reservations for his dinner dates and set up all his appointments. When it came to the business, she was aware of every detail. Or so she’d assumed. She even purchased corporate Christmas gifts on his behalf. The one thing she knew next to nothing about was his family. His mother was dead, although how she’d learned that she couldn’t remember. Probably gossip she’d heard from Jenny or Mark. But in all that time Christian had never said a word about his father or any siblings.