Unexpectedly Yours [Private Relations 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  “Wow,” she said, setting her forehead on the steering wheel for a minute. “That was pretty unexpected.”

  Elle figured that the freeways would be clear since it was after 9:00 p.m., but she was wrong. Forty-five annoying minutes later, she was still only halfway home. She eventually discovered that there was a multiple-car pileup.

  Two hours later she walked through her front door, utterly exhausted. Dropping her purse on the couch, she walked immediately into her bedroom. She’d been vaguely considering a glass of wine when she left the office. Now she was just ready to pass out.

  Elle changed into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top, then set the alarm and slid under the covers. Tomorrow was going to be another long day. Thankfully most of the prep was done.

  It was mostly reheating, except for the chicken, the crumb for the top of the macaroni and cheese, and mixing up the salads. Just a lot of tiny details. She’d need to be at JDC by 8:00 a.m., but she’d be out by 4:00 p.m. at the latest. She’d stop by the shop, then have that glass of Merlot she’d been looking forward to.

  Snuggling further under the covers, she thought about the rest of the week. It was mercifully light, with the exception of Friday and Saturday. There was a class reunion mixer on Friday. That was likely to run late because they were having a buffet-style dinner that didn’t even start until 8:00 p.m.

  Saturday would most likely be easier. It was an engagement party with fifty guests. They had a tea party theme, so they’d be doing small finger sandwiches and appetizers. It started in the early afternoon. She’d be able to wrap that up by 5:00 p.m. or pass the job off to Bret. He’d probably be willing to do anything to avoid making finger sandwiches.

  Then, apparently, she had a date with Jim. .She nestled down further into her pillow and idly wondered what he’d plan for their date. She couldn’t wait to see. Smiling, she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Around 11:30, Jim looked up from his e-mail to see Deacon standing in the doorway of his office.

  “How did dinner go last night?” Deacon asked with a sly grin on his face.

  “Pretty well,” Jim said, smiling. “We’ve got tentative plans for Saturday night. I’m trying to think of something unique to do. I don’t wanna do just dinner and a movie. Any thoughts?”

  “Dinner and a movie isn’t terrible if you think outside of the box. I’m about to head down and check on things. Wanna come along?” Deacon asked, a giant smirk on his face now.

  “I’ll head down there in a little bit. You just gave me an idea, though,” Jim said, moving his attention back to his monitor.

  “You’re welcome,” Deacon said, dryly.

  A couple of minutes later, he had a plan. Saturday in Glendale there would be a gathering of food trucks, live music, and a movie playing in the park. That would be perfect. They’d be able to grab dinner, hang out and listen to some music, see a movie, maybe split a bottle of wine, and still carry on a conversation during the movie if they wanted to.

  Turing his attention back to work, he was able to focus steadily for the next hour and fifteen minutes until the reminder popped up for the quarterly meeting. Finishing up the e-mail he had been working on, he sent it.

  He headed downstairs, anxious to see Elle. He stopped by the kitchen just in time to see her sifting the last of what looked like fried chicken out of the deep fryer. He sniffed the air and said, “Smells great.”

  Looking up from the hotel pan she was loading the chicken into, she grinned and said, “Hey. Tastes great too. We soaked it overnight in buttermilk.”

  “I just wanted to stop in and say hi. I can’t wait to try that,” he said, gesturing toward the chicken. He was suddenly starved.

  “Well,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “you won’t have to wait much longer. Shouldn’t you be giving a speech right about now?”

  Moving his eyes to the clock, he regretfully said, “In a couple minutes. How’s your hand?”

  She peeled the glove back and said, “See? Not too bad.”

  He picked up her hand and examined the slightly red patch and said, “Good.”

  Smirking now, she said, “I’ll make a full recovery.”

  Releasing her hand now, he grinned at her and said, “I’m going to head in there now. See you later, gorgeous.”

  Jim made his way to the ball room, where he saw most of the company sitting at the tables scattered throughout the room. He moved to the front of the room where Deacon and Chris both sat at the table with some of the managers.

  Looking around him, he asked Deacon and Chris, “Who’s going first? Pretty sure I did last time.”

  Deacon reluctantly stood and said, “I’ll bore them to death with the financial stuff first.”

  Jim listened as Deacon went over the quarterly revenue reports and changes in the travel reimbursement process. Chris spent a few moments going over the new acquisitions and some of the new contacts they’d made in the media world.

  Watching them both speak, you’d never be able to tell that they hated public speaking. There really was a certain irony to the fact that the three of them ran a PR agency and they all hated public speaking.

  Chris passed the microphone off to him, and he talked briefly about the sales figures, the expansion of the legal and sales teams, then wrapped up by going over some of the new industries they planned to target in the next few months. Finally, he invited everyone to head over to the buffet tables on either side of the room and get food.

  Turning off the microphone, he watched them all stampede over to the tables. He sat down with Deacon and Chris, waiting for the crowd to die down a little bit before he tried to get food. Once the ballroom had descended into silence because everyone had started eating, Jim moved over to the buffet table that Elle was manning.

  When he reached the front of the line, he asked, “So what should I have?”

  Elle studied him for a moment and then asked, “How hungry are you?”

  “I skipped breakfast this morning. Starved,” he said, grinning.

  “Tomato soup to start, chicken, mac and cheese, and chocolate cake if you have room,” she said decisively.

  “If everyone eats like that, we’re not going to get anything done this afternoon.”

  “Deacon approved the menu,” she said. “Blame him.”

  “Noted. You gonna be home tonight?” he asked.

  When she nodded, he said, “I’ll give you a call about Saturday night then.”

  “Talk to you soon.”

  He moved back to his table and sat down after he snagged a bottle of water, some cutlery, and napkins from the end of the table. Over the next twenty minutes, he proceeded to eat everything on the plate. By his calculations, he’d probably only need to spend an extra six hours working out tonight. Every bite had been worth it though.

  Looking up at Deacon and Chris, he said, “So much for brown rice and vegetables.”

  “Dude. I’m gonna have to swim so many laps tonight,” Chris said. “Can you tell Sara to do low-fat stuff next time, Deacon?”

  “Hah! You think I can tell her to do anything?”

  “Do you think,” Jim asked, “that if I went to take a nap on the couch in my office anyone would notice?”

  Chris snorted and said, “Probably not. The company pretty much runs itself, right?”

  “I walked right into that,” Jim said, sighing deeply.

  They rose from their chairs, and circulated around the room, stopping at each of the tables to chat with employees before they took their exit. Jim pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and realized he was going to be late for his two o’clock conference call with the New Orleans Jazz.

  If rumor was to be believed, their star player, Tyrell Jackson, had cheated on his wife with one of the cheerleaders on the team and gotten her pregnant. His wife had gone ballistic and was talking to every media outlet that would listen. He didn’t anticipate that this was going to be a fun phone call.

  * * * *<
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  By 4:00 p.m. he was exhausted. He’d wrapped up the phone call pretty quickly then managed to book Tyrell on what he liked to call the apology news circuit. He’d wrangled an interview in the New Orleans Ledger, another with Sports Incorporated, a sit down with Jon Thompson on TSN, and a few sports radio shows.

  He quickly drafted an e-mail and sent a copy of the schedule to his contact with the Jazz, along with a press release. He followed it up with a phone call.

  “Dan. Hey, it’s James Conroy, JDC. I just sent you an e-mail with a press release and a schedule for some interviews I was able to set up. It would really help if he could manage to look and sound contrite during the interviews.”

  He spent the next ten minutes answering questions and going over their next steps. He really hoped this wouldn’t start a chain reaction and send mistresses crawling out of the woodwork. The more women that he had to apologize for, the less credible the apology would sound.

  He’d been at work until almost 9:00 p.m. last night. He decided that meant he was entitled to leave a bit early today. He shut his computer down and gathered his briefcase.

  Stopping by Chris’s office, he poked his head in and said, “Safe travels!”

  Chris looked up from his computer and said, “Yeah. Miami is always great. You know how I feel about ninety degree weather, one hundred percent humidity, and being dressed in a full business suit.”

  Jim shook his head woefully and said, “Sarcasm is the recourse of a weak mind, Christopher.”

  “Blow me,” Chris said, as he flipped him the bird.

  Jim grinned, then blew him a kiss and said, “I’m heading out early. Need to work off lunch.”

  “I’m about to do the same. Oh! I forgot to ask. How did dinner last night work out?”

  “It went well,” Jim said. “We’ve got a date on Saturday.”

  “Finally,” Chris said. “Chloe and I were wondering when you’d finally put that together. You’ve been flirting back and forth for months now.”

  “As much as it pains me to say it, you were right. She didn’t think I was serious.”

  Chris had the good grace to only look triumphant for a second before he smirked and said, “Well, I hope it works out. She seems like a cool girl. If I hadn’t been ridiculously hung up on Chloe, I probably would have investigated that myself.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Jim said, “Enjoy Miami.”

  The smirk immediately fell off Chris’s face.

  Jim nodded decisively and said, “My work here is done. Travel safely. See you Monday, man.”

  Chris grinned, then gave him a salute.

  He poked his head into Deacon’s office and said, “I’m out for the day. I took care of the Tyrell Jackson issue. He’s currently booked on the apology train.”

  Deacon looked up at Jim and rolled his eyes, then said, “I don’t get these guys. Why bother getting married if you’re just going to fuck around? I’m sure some of these wives know the score, but it just ends up being messy and expensive.”

  “Even if they do know what they’re getting themselves into, it can’t be easy to deal with. In this case, he says he loves the cheerleader and that they’re getting married. We’ll see though,” Jim said.

  “Ah, so that’s why the wife went through the roof,” Deacon said.

  Shrugging now, Jim said, “Anyway. Going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good one,” Deacon said.

  Jim mentally went over the list of things he needed to do tonight. He had to stop by the grocery store and the dry cleaners on the way home. Plus, he needed to put in some work in his home gym. It seemed like there were never enough hours in the day.

  By the time he made it home it was 6:30 p.m. and he was tired. Still, he changed immediately into a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt and went to work out. It was time to pay the piper.

  An hour later, he was dripping sweat but strangely felt more energized. He’d done some free weights and jogged on the treadmill. He moved across the house, and stepped into his bedroom. Stripping off the soaked clothes, he threw them in the laundry basket.

  By 7:45 p.m. he’d showered and changed. Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed Elle.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. It’s Jim. Got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” she asked.

  “I was thinking about Saturday and came up with an idea. They do this movie night in the park in Glendale. A bunch of food trucks show up, they’ve got live music beforehand. Sound good? Or will it be too cold?”

  “Sounds perfect! I’ve always wanted to do that, but I never hear about it until after they happen. It shouldn’t be too cold. We can always bring an extra blanket with us, just in case. What’s playing?” Elle asked.

  “Much Ado About Nothing. That adaptation that came out a few years ago. The website said we can bring a bottle of wine if we want, too,” Jim said.

  “That would be great. What time were you thinking?”

  “Maybe six or six thirty? The food truck lines get pretty long from what I read. It’ll give us time to find a good spot, have dinner, relax a little bit,” he trailed off.

  “Six should work,” Elle said.

  “Good. Don’t forget to text me your address at some point,” he said. After a moment he asked, “How was the rest of your day?”

  “Not as long as yesterday, thankfully. Traffic was brutal last night. I didn’t get in until almost 11:00 p.m. There was a giant pileup on the freeway. I’m going to sleep so well tonight. How about you?”

  “Long,” he said. “I had so much trouble focusing after lunch. I just wanted a nap. Everything you suggested I have was amazing, though. The macaroni and cheese, especially.”

  “That’s actually my recipe. Glad you liked it.”

  They continued to talk for a few more minutes about work until Elle was no longer able to contain a yawn. Jim chuckled at her and said, “Aww. You sound exhausted. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

  Laughing now, she said, “Sorry. Yeah. I should probably do that. Talk to you soon?”

  “Definitely,” Jim said, “Sweet dreams.”

  “Night.”

  He thought back and couldn’t remember the last date he’d been on. He’d been so wrapped up in the business and all of his other responsibilities that he hadn’t focused much on his social life. That was about to change, though. He had a good feeling about this.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday evening, Elle was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, when she heard the door bell. Smiling, she wiped a bit of lip gloss off the edge of her mouth, then went to answer the door.

  Jim stood there in a dark purple V-neck sweater and a pair of dark-wash jeans. She saw a slow smile come across his face as he took her in. She couldn’t help but return the grin. Backing up, she said, “Come on in. Let me just get my jacket.”

  She moved to the coat rack, retrieving a light jacket and her purse. Between the pale pink sweater she’d chosen, the jeans and her jacket, she’d be plenty warm. She slid on her shoes and said, “Ready to go.”

  He opened the door and held it for her, then said, “You look nice tonight.”

  She flushed slightly and said, “You do too.”

  As she locked the door, he said, “Your place is nothing at all like what I expected.”

  Laughing, she said, “My parents have this habit of just showing up with stuff. I feel guilty not taking it when they drive all the way down from Bakersfield with it. So, my house is forever destined to look like I robbed a swap meet.”

  “I get family pressure. Thankfully it doesn’t extend to home decorating though. My house would be filled with Steuben and doilies,” he shuddered.

  Elle said, “Sounds, um, lovely,” with a laugh.

  “My mother would be pleased to know you appreciate her decorating taste,” he said, a smirk on his face now.

  She felt the warmth of his hand on the small of her back as they walked toward the SUV in the driveway. When they reac
hed the passenger’s side door, he opened it for her. She closed the door once she’d climbed inside and watched as he walked around to the driver’s side.

  He was so freaking hot. How was it even possible she was on a date with this man?

  When he got into the car, he looked at her for a second with a faintly bemused smile on his face and then turned on the ignition.

  “What?” she asked, curiously.

  “I’ve been trying to get you out on a date for months. I’m glad we’re finally here,” he said.

  “Me too,” she said.

  As they backed out of the driveway, he asked, “So are the yard decorations yours or did your parents show up with those too?”

  The front yard had a set of small bunny statues and some parrots with wings that spun around like windmills. Off to the side, there was a small birdbath and a couple of squirrel feeders shaped like horse heads.

  She widened her eyes and tried to look offended. “You don’t like my bunny statues?”

  As they drove up the street, she saw him glance over at her. She figured he was probably trying to determine whether she was being serious.

  “They’re, uh…” Jim trailed off, obviously not sure how to continue.

  Elle felt her lips twitch, and she finally said, “They just show up with this stuff. I never know what to do with it. They get offended if I don’t use it.”

  “It wasn’t the bunnies, really. It’s the little horse heads. I’d have to draw the line there,” he said, grinning.

  On the drive to the park, they talked a little bit more about some of the strange stuff her parents had given her. She currently had an old fashioned bow and arrow set, a butter churn, and three bolts of blue silk in her spare room.

  The closer they got to the park the less nervous Elle felt. The conversation was flowing freely now. He seemed genuinely amused by her parents’ antics, which was more than she could say for the last guy she dated. He’d been totally freaked out by her mother’s persistent nagging about settling down and having a family.

  Elle hadn’t been on board with the idea of getting married or having kids at that point, but Marc had assumed by the way that her mother talked that Elle had been sizing him up as marriage material. He’d proceeded to fuck a stranger on her dining room table in protest. She’d been pissed off and humiliated, but definitely not heartbroken.