A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (18 page)

She stuck an arm out and caught it. “I thought you loved your little sister.”

“Not when she was a brat.”

Someone knocked on the door, so Valerie closed herself in the bathroom. Keith let the innkeeper into the room and helped him transfer the food from a tray onto a little table. The warm scent of cooked eggs and cheese made Keith’s stomach gnaw for attention.

After the innkeeper left, Valerie emerged and walked to her chair at the table, tugging at the hem of the shirt. She always seemed self-conscious about her legs, which he thought were great. “So what have we here?” she asked as she sat.

“Cheddar omelets, croissants, and fresh fruit.” He poured coffee for both of them.

“Mmm. I could use the fortification after last night.”

A chuckle rumbled in his throat. “We did get a bit of a workout, didn’t we?”

A naughty sparkle lit her eyes as the corners of her mouth curled up. “Indeed we did.” She opened a packet of artificial sweetener and poured the contents into her coffee.

“You know, there are lab rats walking around with an extra pair of legs after eating too much of that stuff.”

“Good.” She finished stirring her coffee and clinked the spoon on the edge of her cup. “Maybe now they can run fast enough to escape from the lab.”

He tried not to smile, but he loved her quick wit. “I’m going to make a granola girl out of you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Speaking of granola girls, how is your meditation teacher? Hannah, is it?”

Why is she asking about her?
“Heather. I don’t know. Okay, I guess. Why?”

“You mentioned meeting her for coffee a while back.”

Is she jealous?
“Yeah. I just wanted to pick her brain about Buddhism. It wasn’t a date or anything.”

She cut into her omelet. “If you want to go out with her, I’d be okay with that.”

His appetite took a hike, and he put his fork down. “I’m not interested in Heather. I’m interested in
you
.”
Wait a minute, maybe what she really means is . . .
“Do
you
want to go out with other people? Is that what this is about?”

“No, no, I just— I don’t want you to feel tied to me, in case you meet someone closer to your own age.”

“Oh, Christ.” He pulled his napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. “Are you still hung up on that? How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t care how old you are. Or is it
my
age that really bugs you? Are you afraid of what people will say when they see us together?”

She lowered her gaze to her plate. “I don’t know. Maybe a little—”

“Well, fuck ’em.”

She laughed nervously.

“I’m serious. Who cares what people think? The only thing that matters is what we think.”

She nodded, albeit barely. “You’re right. I know I shouldn’t let those things bother me.”

He eyed her closely. Was he getting the whole story? He’d never allowed himself to get so involved with a woman since Lina, and the possibility that it may have been a mistake scared the crap out of him. Valerie had snagged his heart so completely, he’d relaxed his guard. But how did
she
feel? “Where are we going, Valerie? With this relationship, I mean.”

The question seemed to stun her for a moment. “I’m . . . not sure. I’m enjoying our relationship very much, but I don’t know exactly what the future holds. Where do you want it to be going?”

He started to say a committed relationship, but the words caught in his throat. Knowing it and feeling it were one thing; actually saying it, unilaterally, was another. “I guess I’m not completely sure, either.” Was that a lie? He wanted to be honest, but what if she didn’t share his feelings? Maybe he’d broached the subject too soon. “I definitely like spending time together, and . . . I wouldn’t mind doing more of that.”

A sweet smile graced her lips. “That sounds good to me.”

He tried to return her smile and picked up his fork again. “We’d better finish these omelets before they get cold.”

“That
also
sounds good to me. Although mine’s absolutely huge. I may need some help with it.”

He finished chewing a bite. “I’m surprised your ex isn’t huge.”

Her head retracted a notch. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re always pushing your food off on me, and I assume you did the same to him.”

“Oh!” she said with a puff of laughter. “Believe me, I tried. But he just wouldn’t eat it. He didn’t have the same qualms about wasting food that I have.”

“You never talk about him.”

“Greg?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I . . . guess there’s just never been a reason to talk about him.”

Keith picked up his croissant. “What does he do?”

“He’s a city planner. Not real exciting.”

“Do you ever miss him?”

Valerie’s mouth dropped open. “I . . . don’t really know.” Her gaze shifted to her food. “I guess maybe I do, a little.”

“Well, you were married for a long time.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “A very long time.”

She sat motionless, staring at her plate, for what seemed like eons. Then it hit him: She still had feelings for that guy. And the longer it took her to resume eating, the more convinced he became that Greg might be the reason she was unwilling to make any kind of commitment.

She finally speared a piece of fruit. “I’m amazed they have fresh pineapple in Wisconsin in September.”

Am I being paranoid
? He recalled how much he missed Lina after she left, even though they’d only been married a few years. He ought to cut Valerie some slack. But if Greg still had a substantial piece of her heart, it could be ages before she truly moved on. And Greg had come to Valerie’s to check up on her after the accident. That could only mean one thing: He still had feelings for her.

Keith continued eating although what he really wanted to do was kick himself. Why hadn’t he seen this sooner? On the other hand, they had gotten divorced after a year of separation. Surely one of them had been certain the marriage was over. But which one? “So, were you the one who filed for divorce?”

She looked like a death shroud had been thrown over her. “Do we have to talk about this? I’d really rather not, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll shut up about it.” He took a big bite of croissant, as if to muzzle himself.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

He kept his word and said nothing more on the subject. But he couldn’t help noting her refusal to answer the question, suggesting she wasn’t the one who wanted the split. Of course, he hadn’t wanted his divorce, either. So what difference did it make? He tried to shake the thought, but it clung like a piece of burnt cheese.

As she drove to work the following day, Valerie turned off the news and gripped the steering wheel. A night of fitful dozing had left her brain in a heavy fog, and she recognized the need to drive with extra care.

Keith’s questions about Greg had sent her “what-if” musings into high gear. Her relationship with Keith had served as the perfect antidote to her inclination to rehash her failed marriage. How ironic he should be the one to rekindle her ruminations.

She’d never given much thought to the meaning of Greg’s visit after her accident, figuring he’d probably been motivated by some lingering sense of duty. But what if her potentially life-threatening fall had caused Greg to reconsider the divorce? What if he realized he didn’t want to live without her?

She stopped for a red light and watched a couple of teenage girls cross the street in front of her. Lord, how slutty their outfits looked! Their parents let them wear that stuff? Then she recalled some of the things she wore in the ’80s. Hardly virginal. One of her favorite tops had been a clingy pink-and-white shirt that made her boobs appear much bigger than they actually were. She’d still had that top when she went to college, and, in fact, that’s what she’d been wearing the night she met Greg.

Greg. Should she call him? Did she
want
to call him? Curiosity shouted, “Yes.” Better judgment said, “Think it through.”

It had been a good marriage for the most part, hadn’t it? They’d watched so many friends split up over the years. They used to joke that they’d be the last married couple in America. Perhaps they should have seen those breakups as warning signs and worked harder to keep their own bond strong. Greg would certainly agree with that, except he’d say
she
should have worked harder at it. But if it takes two to tango, it takes two to trip as well, doesn’t it?

And what about Keith? He had engineered such a fabulous and thoughtful weekend in Wisconsin. When was the last time Greg had done anything nearly as romantic as that?

Now, Valerie, you’re comparing apples to oranges
. She imagined Greg as a wormy Granny Smith and Keith as a juicy navel from Florida and couldn’t help but chuckle. Still, she ought to hear Greg out, shouldn’t she?

She pulled into her parking space at work and mentally shifted gears to the day ahead. She had to meet with Eric to go over their final pitch to the potential new investor, and she hadn’t even begun to do her PowerPoint slides.

She’d barely started to get organized at her desk when Pam came in with the morning paper.

“Did you see this?” she asked, dropping the paper on Valerie’s desk. The headline read:
Day care worker charged with trafficking child porn.

Valerie’s lungs seized up. She skimmed the story and discovered the suspect worked for an independent child-care center in a neighboring city. She could breathe again. “How frightening.”

Pam put her hands on her hips. “If you think that’s frightening, wait till you hear this: I interviewed her last week and I was going to call her today to offer her a job.”

Valerie grabbed the armrests of her chair for support. “Oh, my God.”

Pam sat down. “You should have seen her resume. Spotless. I even called some of her references and got nothing but glowing reports.”

Valerie slowly shook her head and reread the headline. “One week later and this could have been us.”

“No shit.” Pam rubbed her temples and groaned. “I swear to God, I feel like we’re living under a black cloud.”

“More like a charmed life, though, if you think about it. This is the second time we’ve dodged a major bullet.”

“Yeah, but how long before our luck runs out?” Pam’s voice was abnormally shrill, even under the circumstances.

Valerie tapped an index finger on the newspaper. “This may actually be a good thing. It’s a wake-up call that we need to change our screening process to make sure we weed these people out.”

“But we have all kinds of background checks in place already. This woman’s record was perfectly clean.”

“Hmm.” Valerie leaned back in her chair. “Well, we should at least talk to Barry about it. He was a prosecuting attorney before going into private practice, so he may have some ideas about how to check someone out even if their record is clean.”

Pam sighed. “All right. I’ll give him a call.” She looked like she had a hundred-pound backpack on as she pushed herself up out of the chair. “I’ve got to be honest with you, though. I’m getting tired of feeling like we’re always living on the edge.”

Valerie observed her colleague closely. It wasn’t like Pam to be so defeatist. Had they bitten off too much, trying to run two companies at once? That question had been festering in her subconscious. Perhaps the romance with Keith sapped too much of her focus—not to mention worries about Mom, who’d been complaining of abdominal pain. She had even asked Valerie to take her to the doctor, which was unprecedented.

“I think our situation will ease up once Triple-H gets on firmer footing.” Valerie’s words sounded feeble even to her own ears.

“I sure as hell hope so.” Pam plodded out of the office.

Valerie’s gut screamed that things may have gone too far, and Pam was like the canary in the coal mine. Something had to be done. But what?

Chapter 15

Valerie ordered Keith’s favorite pizza from the best pizza place in town. She really wanted to cook him a nice dinner, since he’d gone to so much trouble to make their Wisconsin trip special. But she had no time to cook. He knew that.

She uncorked a bottle of Petite Sirah and poured herself a glass. Would it be wise to discuss her business concerns with him? She didn’t want to worry him, but he’d often given her excellent feedback.

She heard him come in the house. “It’s me,” he said.

“Hey, handsome,” she said when he joined her in the kitchen.

“Sorry I’m late.” He sat at the table. “Mrs. Galovich had another hissy fit about the way I bandaged her knee, and she made me do it over three times while she screamed at the idiots on some TV talk show.”

“You’re only a little late. You want some wine? Or a beer?”

“I’ll take a beer.”

She got a beer out of the fridge, opened the bottle, and handed it to him. “The pizza should be here in about half an hour.”

After taking a long draft, he set the bottle on the table. “I think we need to talk.”

Uh-oh.
His voice had a tone she’d never heard before.

“Okay.” She grabbed her glass of wine and sat at the table.

He picked at the label on his beer bottle. “I’m wondering whether you’re really ready for a new relationship.” He looked at her like it was a question.

Crap
. As if her day hadn’t been stressful enough already. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, I’m wondering if maybe it hasn’t been long enough since your divorce.”

“Oh.” She almost wanted to say she knew exactly what he meant, because she’d been wondering the same thing. But she didn’t want to tip her hand that much and potentially blow what she had with him. “Well, I don’t know if there are any guidelines about this sort of thing, but I
feel
ready for a relationship.” That was true, wasn’t it? She certainly wanted to escape all the negativity surrounding her failed marriage.

“Are you sure? Because I get the impression sometimes that you’re not really invested.”

Her stomach contracted in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. If he knew she’d actually considered calling Greg, he’d be even more pissed. She needed to shift his suspicions. “I think maybe it’s just that . . . I don’t know, I guess I still have some qualms about the age-difference thing.”

His face reddened and his jaw clenched. “You mean after all this time, and all of our discussions about that, you still doubt my love for you?”

His words knocked the breath out of her. “Your what?”

“Oh, never mind.” He took a swig of his beer and practically slammed the bottle on the table. “You know, I find it interesting that you’re so passionate about saying love has no boundaries when it comes to gender, yet you think it has age restrictions.”

Holy crap
. What could she say? “I guess . . .” She pushed to make herself audible. “It is hypocritical.”

“I guess.” The sarcasm in his voice didn’t jibe with the Keith she knew. He sighed with an air of resignation. “Maybe it’s just as well. Your real husband is your job, and I don’t see any signs of a divorce there.”

Heat surged up her neck. “Now that’s not fair. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I just took a whole weekend off.”

“Yes, and twice I saw you checking your BlackBerry when supposedly you were listening to me.”

She couldn’t deny that. “Okay, so I’m not perfect. Maybe you need to think of me as a drug addict who’s weaning herself off of it.”

“Maybe you need to leave the damn thing at home sometimes.”

Now he’s being unreasonable
. “You know I can’t do that. What if there’s some kind of emergency? As the owner of two care-giving companies, I have to be on-call at all times.”

“You can put Pam in charge. No one’s irreplaceable.”

“Pam’s got enough on her plate right now.”

“And you don’t?”

“Oh, Jesus. Why are you making such a big deal about this? It’s just a freakin’ phone.”

He gave her a look that reminded her of her fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Odegaard, whose goal in life was to discipline the spunk out of any girl who showed some. He took another gulp of beer and set the bottle down more normally. “It’s actually kind of funny, when you think about it. I thought you would change for me, even though you hadn’t changed for your husband of 20 years.” He snorted and shook his head. “What an ass I was.”

She desperately wanted to take some heartburn medicine. “Come on, Keith. Cut me some slack here.”

His eyes bore into hers. “I’ve got to be honest with you, Valerie. I just don’t think it’s going to work.”

Bile rose in her throat. He’d been such a bright spot in this tumultuous period of her life. How could she have screwed up again? No. She couldn’t let this happen. “Keith,
please
. Give me a break, okay? I’ve really been making an effort. Can’t you see that?”

He returned to picking at the bottle label. “I know this might seem sudden to you, but I’ve actually given it a lot of thought.” His gaze shifted back to her. “I don’t believe you
can
change. And for the sake of my own sanity, I need to call it quits.”

She felt like she was trying to hang on to an oily rope. “What if I were to—”

He held his hand up in a stopping motion. “No. Please, Valerie. I don’t want to drag this out.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I hope I can still work for you.”

How could he think I would fire him?
“Yes, of course you can. I certainly wouldn’t want to lose you as an employee, too.”
Lose.
Yes, she was losing him. Tears formed in her eyes, and his angry expression softened.

“I think we can have a good working relationship,” he said. “I really do.”

One of the tears slipped out, and she quickly brushed it away while focusing on her wine. “Yes, I’m sure we can.” She blinked a few times and then raised her head. “We’re both adults here. There’s no reason we can’t be professional about this.” She amazed even herself with her composure, since what she really wanted was to kick and scream ‘
No!’

“Right.” His jaw appeared to tense up again. “Well, I guess I may as well be going.” He pushed his chair back.

“Yes, of course.”

They both stood. An awkward glance passed between them, and she fought the urge to embrace him.

He walked away and she heard the door close behind him. And that was it.

She sank back into her chair, struggling to process what had just happened. Tears welled up again, and this time she surrendered to them.

How had she let this happen? He said he loved her. He actually loved her, and she was too dense to see it. Or too self-absorbed, or work-absorbed. She sobbed and shook her head.

Wait a minute. What if this was a test?
Maybe he broke up with her just to see how she would react—whether she would fight to hang on to him. Should she have tried harder to change his mind? Should she have begged him for one more chance?

No. That wasn’t his style. He didn’t play games, and she knew he meant what he said.

Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it. She didn’t want to talk to anybody right then. Unless . . .

She got up, grabbed her purse, pulled out the cell phone, and read the Caller ID. Mom. She knew she should answer, but Mom probably just wanted to remind her to pick her up for a doctor’s appointment the next day. She let it go into voicemail.

Returning to the table, she picked up her wine and downed it in one long drink, then sighed. “Oh, get real. When did crying and self-pity ever do you any good?”

The doorbell rang, and her heart lurched.
Keith?
Then she remembered: the pizza.

She went to the door, paid the delivery kid, took the pizza to the kitchen, and plopped it on the island. “A whole pizza all to myself. Goody, goody.”

She had no appetite. Maybe she should take it over to Mom’s? Nah. She poured herself another glass of wine and took it into the family room, where she stretched out on an easy chair.

She had fretted so much about Keith possibly dumping her because of her age that she overlooked the need to nurture the relationship in other ways, like giving him her full attention when they were together. How could she have been so stupid? Useful or not, she couldn’t keep the burning sorrow from forcing tears out again.

Sylvester jumped into her lap. Good ol’ Sylly Billy. She petted him and scratched behind his ears, which got his motor running.

“Mama fucked up again, Sylly.” The cat kneaded her thighs, reminding her of the times Keith massaged her feet. He’d been so good to her, and yet she hadn’t been nearly as considerate of him.

Sylvester circled around for a few steps and dropped into a napping position he would hold as long as Valerie remained seated. She continued to stroke him lightly.

“I suppose the mature thing to do would be to shake it off and move on.” But she didn’t feel like doing the mature thing, not yet anyway. “I want him back,” she whispered.

Why was she so good at coming up with potential solutions for work issues, but she couldn’t fix her own damn love life?

“I think it’s time we applied some creativity where it counts, Sylly.” She petted him more assertively, and he purred in apparent agreement.

Valerie got up early the next morning to get her creative juices flowing by going for a run. On her way to work, she decided to stop at her favorite coffee shop to get a pumpkin-spice latte.

As she waited for her drink, she spotted someone familiar sitting at a table in the corner, reading on a tablet. He had his back to her, but she would have recognized that dark hair and posture from a mile away.
Greg
.

Her adrenaline kicked in, and she glanced at her watch. Seven-thirty. He didn’t have to be at work until eight-thirty. Plenty of time. And yet . . .
Oh, my God. I don’t
want
to talk to him.

Ever since Keith had ended things the night before, she had spent every spare moment trying to figure out how to convince him to change his mind. So why on earth should she spend one second talking to the man who had divorced her when what she wanted—yes,
truly
wanted—was Keith? Never had she felt the same level of motivation to fight for her marriage. Even when she feared losing Greg the most, her efforts had been lukewarm compared with the fire stoking her now.

As soon as her latte was ready, she scurried out the door.

When she arrived at work, she went straight to Pam’s office. “Morning.”

Pam looked up with an expression fit for a death-row inmate.

“What’s wrong?”

Pam shook her head lethargically. “Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do.”

Valerie sank into the chair across from Pam’s desk. “What is it?” Her own voice didn’t even sound alarmed. It sounded resigned.

Pam held up a pile of documents. “A female nurse filed a complaint against Triple-H with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.”

Valerie closed her eyes. She couldn’t think of an expletive powerful enough.
This can’t be happening
. She opened her eyes and sighed. “All right, what does it say?”

Pam read, “Susan Chakour alleges that the employment practices of Home Health Hunks violate Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Civil Rights Act of 1991 by discriminating on the basis of sex.” She lowered the papers. “Do you want me to go on?”

Heartburn seethed in Valerie’s gullet. “I thought Barry’s people had taken precautions to ensure this kind of thing wouldn’t happen.”

“I think what he said was that if anyone
did
sue us, we could win. But I don’t think there’s any way you can prevent people from trying.”

Damn
. “Yeah, I think you’re right. See if you can get him on the phone.”

Pam flipped through her Rolodex, found the number, and dialed. “I suppose it’ll be a miracle if he’s— Yes, Barry Derrough, please.” She paused. “Barry? Hi, this is Pam Goldblatt.” She filled Barry in and then put him on speakerphone.

“Well, this doesn’t really surprise me.” Barry’s voice carried well despite the scratchy technology. “But don’t get uptight about it. I’m confident we can win any such case. But I doubt it will ever come to that.”

“What do you mean?” Valerie asked.

“I mean, I doubt it will ever get to court. The EEOC’s job is to determine whether there’s just cause to file a suit, and even if there is, they’ll try to reconcile the case to everyone’s satisfaction before filing suit. That’s when we can convince them we’d win, but we may have to make some concessions.”

“Such as?” Pam asked.

“Such as hiring more women in positions that pay as well as the nursing positions.”

Valerie understood what Barry was saying, but she also foresaw the upshot of this—numerous meetings with the EEOC, perhaps hefty legal bills, more time away from their core business objectives, and . . .
Oh, shit. Bad publicity
? “Do we need to issue some kind of damage-control press release?”

Barry chuckled. “Good thinking. But no, the EEOC won’t allow any of this to go public at this stage.”

At this stage. But if a lawsuit ever were filed . . . Oh, well. No sense in sweating that yet. They already had enough to keep them soaked. “So, what do we do next?”

“Fax me the complaint and I’ll set up a meeting with the EEOC. Meanwhile, try to figure out how you can get more women on the payroll.”

“All right,” Valerie said. “Thanks, Barry.”

“No problem. I’ll be in touch.”

Pam pushed the button to disconnect. “It sounds like we’ll need to get women in all of our supervisory positions, and we’re already more than halfway there.”

Valerie nodded. “We’ll have to be careful about how we reassign the men, though, so we don’t get accused of reverse discrimination.”