Authors: Julie Lessman
Alli giggled while Emma pursed her lips, studying Sean with a squint. She folded her arms across a moss-colored cardigan Charity claimed brought out the “dangerous green” in her eyes and then tucked a finger to her chin, as if deep in thought. “Mmm . . . I failed to mention that, I guess, but then maybe the cot in the corner gave him the wrong idea.”
A slow grin eased across Sean’s lips. “Keep it down, will ya, ladies? I need quiet if I’m going to save your hides here, brainstorming ways to counter that 25 percent dip in sales.”
“Likely story,” Bert said with a grunt.
“Come on now, Bert,” Emma said, enjoying the first real banter she’d allowed herself with Sean since he’d started. “He did spend several days on the dock getting Horace organized and inventorying all deliveries, as well as building those displays for Michelle and drafting the ads for our Labor Day Sale.”
“And he did rectify all the registers and balance the books the day I left early,” Alli said.
“Not to mention his willingness to take over all monthly inventories, which is a huge plus.” Emma crossed her arms and tapped a finger against her lips. “So what do you think—should we keep him on—despite his propensity to nap at the end of the day?”
“End of the day?” Sean eyed the watch on his wrist, then jagged a brow, obviously attempting to mask his smile with a frown. “Maybe for you slackers, but not for me. Because after you people mosey on home to your comfy-cozy apartments and homes, my workday will just be starting.”
Bert cocked her head. “Well, he is kind of cute, I suppose, especially with that nasty scowl bunching up all those freckles.” An evil glint shone in her gaze. “That is if we can keep him away from Michelle.”
He flashed some teeth, but Emma couldn’t help but grin at the ruddy color inching up his neck.
“Come on, Bert, just give me the word, and I’ll dump Michelle Tuller to build you those shelves you’ve been whining about.” His smile broadened when Bert’s cheeks hazed to pink, a rare occurrence for the crotchety Italian who was as much a mother to Emma as secretary.
Emma shook her head, feeling a sense of satisfaction that warmed her more than the teasing about Michelle. It meant Bert actually liked Sean, a great accomplishment for anyone at Dennehy’s, much less a man. But then, what was there not to like? The memory of his behavior at Kearney’s suddenly niggled, but she quickly dismissed it, shaking off her unease.
He paused, giving Bert a slow wink. “Or maybe I should see if Horace wants to build them for you . . .”
Bert’s pink cheeks fused to scarlet, and Sean laughed outright.
“Humph. I say give him his walking papers right now, Miss Emma. The boy’s a little too big for his britches, if you ask me.” Bert’s tone was as tart as one of those lemon drops she kept in a bowl on her desk. She tugged a stylish new cloche over her dark finger-waved bob and waggled scarlet fingernails in the air. “My feet hurt—I’m going home. Toodle-oo.”
“G’night, Bert,” Sean called. “Thanks for the meat loaf sandwich.”
Emma hiked a brow, her whisper laced with awe. “She brought you a meat loaf sandwich?”
“And her famous pound cake,” Alli said with a giggle.
He slanted back in his chair with a lazy grin. “What can I say? The woman likes me.”
Emma folded her arms with a new respect in her eyes. “Bert doesn’t give anybody anything unless it’s a hard time, except for Alli and me. That alone makes you worth your weight in gold.”
He grinned. “Well, we’ll have to talk to Charity about that, now won’t we?”
Emma chuckled. “Yes, we will.” She glanced at her watch and gave Alli’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Scoot, Alli. Mrs. Tunny’s taking you to the theatre tonight, remember?”
“Oh, no!” The brown eyes widened. “I haven’t done register totals yet.”
“Go home, Alli,” Sean said. “I’m staying late, so I’ll be happy to log ’em in.”
Her smile lit up the room. “Bless you! And for the record, I don’t think you’re too big for your britches.” She waved and hobbled back to her desk to collect her purse. “Good night.”
“G’night, Alli,” they chimed in unison.
With Alli’s departure, Emma’s chest suddenly tightened. Clearing her throat, she shot Sean an awkward smile before turning to go. “I’ll let you get back to work—”
“Wait—” His voice halted her at the door and she turned. “No reason to rush off, is there?” he said with a tentative smile. “I was kind of hoping we could talk since it’s the end of my first week at work. You know, get comfortable as co-workers?”
He must have detected the hesitation in her manner, because when she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted before she could say no. “Come on, Mrs. Malloy—don’t turn me down, please? Even though we’re almost family and have been friends for years, somehow it seems like we’re strangers in this office.” He shot her an endearing smile, brows arched in appeal. “Please?”
She paused, painfully aware that her comfort with Sean had been shattered the day of the wedding. And yet . . . how could she allow one awful moment to prevail over all the wonderful ones they’d shared over the years? She longed to let it go—this edgy feeling that his temper had unleashed, reminding her so much of Rory. But it wasn’t easy. Like Sean, Rory had had the same ready smile and easygoing manner, lulling her into a sense of peace and security until his rage had taken it all away.
Emma drew in a thick breath and glanced up, noting the strain of Sean’s smile, the plea in his eyes, and something inside wanted to believe he was different. That deep down, he was nothing like Rory. She slowly exhaled before finally moving forward to sit down, albeit stiffly, in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She clasped her hands in her lap. “So . . . why aren’t
you
going home?” she asked with a polite smile. “The whole reason you’re here is so all of us work less hours, remember? Besides, I thought you had a game tonight.”
He glanced over his shoulder out the two-story window where ominous rain clouds pelted the empty park across the street. Windblown spray misted the marble sill, infusing the room with the fresh fragrance of rain. “Nope, rained out. So I figured I’d stay and work on some promotion ideas that have been rolling around in my head.”
Emma blinked, noticing the weather for the first time. “Oh, my, I’ve had my head so buried in payroll today that I haven’t even noticed the weather.” Heat dusted her cheeks.
Behind closed doors—avoiding you.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, helping to chase the stiffness away. She needed to do this—for herself, for Sean, and for the store—get comfortable with him again, at least as a co-worker. She could be warm and professional here and keep her distance whenever she saw him at O’Connor family functions.
I can do this
, she thought with resolve, the clean scent of rain washing some of her doubts away. She slowly released a cleansing sigh, allowing her head to rest on the back of her chair. “Oh, I love the smell of rain,” she whispered.
———
“Me too,” he said quietly, suddenly aware he’d been holding his breath. Easing back in his chair, his chest slowly contracted as the air left his lungs in one long, silent release.
Eyes closed, Emma seemed content to rest, head cushioned on the padded back of a gold velour dining room chair that matched the furniture in her office. The scent and sound of the rain seemed to tranquilize her, dispelling the anxiety he’d sensed after Alli had left, allowing him to study this woman who aroused his curiosity like no other. She was the reason his gloomy mood had lifted in the last week, the reason he’d enjoyed working at Dennehy’s so much, despite the fact that her interaction with him had been painfully professional. He thought he had known her, but she had surprised him more than anyone ever had, slipping out from the shadows of ambiguity to become a strong and steady force in a world where men reigned supreme. He’d watched her dicker with a salesman over surcharges on a foreign shipment, battle a shipping agent over late delivery, and soothe a disgruntled customer, all in one day. She was calm and kind to her staff without leaving any room for lax behavior from any employee whose paycheck she signed. And yet through it all, she was Emma, a woman who preferred to fade into the background, and yet wielded a power that was serene, gentle, and strong. And somehow—in the intimacy of this setting—sensual. His neck warmed.
The fawn-colored eyes opened, revealing a hint of pale green hue, and he suddenly saw her as she must have been years ago, perfect features, hypnotic eyes, and a magnetic innocence so strong, it aroused both a strange longing within and an ache in his chest. He observed the faint scars on the left side of her face—and realized that for him, they had never hindered her beauty. “You’re different here,” he whispered, “secure, resolute, invincible.”
She smiled, and weariness weighted her delicate features. “That’s because too much rests on the success of this store—my debt to Mitch and Charity, the livelihood of every employee here . . .” She drew in a frail breath and buffed her arms. “My own peace of mind.”
“You’re a special woman, Emma Malloy. I’m honored to be working with you.”
A wash of color ebbed in her cheeks and she quickly rose to her feet, avoiding his eyes. “Well, if I can’t convince you to go home, then the least I can do is give you half of my supper.” She peeked up, her manner tentative despite a shy smile that quickened his pulse. “It’s not Bert’s meat loaf by a long shot, but it should be enough to tame your hunger pangs for a while.”
His lips parted in a grin. “Sounds good. And while we’re dining, I’ll share some of the ideas I have for increasing market share.”
She paused, her hesitation halting the breath in his lungs. “Sorry, I’m . . . afraid I have a lot of work I need to finish before I go . . .”
“Ten minutes,” he said quietly. “That’s all it’ll take to bolt some food and hear my ideas.” He studied her profile, stomach cramping at the reluctance he saw in the downcast eyes, the shift of her throat, the hand on the knob. She was no longer comfortable being alone with him, and the very thought twisted his insides into a knot. Her lips parted in slow motion, and he held his breath, unwilling to hear the wrong answer. He rushed on, his voice quiet but firm. “Emma, we need to talk. To clear the air. Please . . . if only for my peace of mind?”
His words stilled her for a moment before she finally nodded, rib cage slowly deflating. Without another word, she slipped from the room, leaving him alone with his regret.
He released a weary breath and dropped his head on the back of the chair, a bittersweet smile edging his lips at the thought of dining with Emma and clearing the air. Whatever it took, he
would
regain her trust. Her friendship was too important. And so was the harmony they’d need to work side by side.
With a heavy inhale, he propped his hands behind his neck and surveyed the once-cluttered storeroom that now served as his office. Anxious to transform the large storage area into usable business space, Emma had taken advantage of Sean’s carpentry skills by insisting he build floor-to-ceiling cabinets to partition off the supply area on the other side. The result was a cozy, rectangular office boasting a tall, arched window that flooded the room with sunlight during the day and lamplight during the night. Despite the close proximity of quarters, Sean felt at home here, and the view of the city park was certainly more pleasant than the littered alley outside of Kelly’s.
“I assume being a full-blooded Irishman, you like corned beef and cabbage?” she asked upon her return, gaze averted despite a faint smile on her lips.
She deposited a small basket on the edge of his desk and popped the lid to unearth slices of corned beef swaddled in wax paper and a small bowl of cabbage sealed with aluminum foil. Smoothing out the foil, she carefully placed a sliver of corned beef on top and then scooped a child’s portion of cabbage alongside. She produced two forks, obviously from the makeshift kitchen at the back of Bert and Alli’s office, then placed the rest of the corned beef into the bowl with the cabbage. With an almost childlike focus that made him smile, she carefully slid it across the desk, keeping the smaller portion for herself.
He pushed it away. “Oh, no you don’t—you take more than that.”
“Don’t make me pull rank on you, Mr. O’Connor. This is all I want.” She nudged it back.
His tone was gentle. “You haven’t called me Sean once since I started, Emma. Why?”
She fumbled with her foil, suddenly preoccupied with positioning the corned beef just so. “I just thought you’d appreciate more formality in the workplace, you know, in front of the employees.”
“Emma,” he said quietly. “Will you look at me?”
Her gaze lifted slowly, and his heart squeezed at the caution in her eyes. “We’re alone now, but even if we weren’t, I’d prefer you call me Sean.”
She nodded and looked away, apparently reluctant to maintain his gaze.
“Emma,” he said again, his voice as serious as it had ever been, and this time her eyes met and held his. “I hurt you deeply, I know, losing my temper at Kearney’s that day, and I want you to understand that it will never happen again.” He swallowed hard, emotion thickening the walls of his throat. “That degree of anger . . . well, it’s only happened twice in my life, and I regret one of those times was with you.” He paused, seconds ticking away like minutes. “Will you forgive me? Please?”
“I’ve forgiven you,” she whispered, but it didn’t ease the wariness in her face.
“No, I don’t think you have. We’re friends—good friends. But somehow I feel that friendship has been cut off—”
“That’s not true . . . ,” she said too softly, a twinge of pain in her eyes.
“Isn’t it? You’re not comfortable with me anymore, and you avoid me like the plague.”
The timidity of her manner broke his heart as her gaze lowered once again. “You scared me, Sean,” she whispered. “I thought I knew you.”
“You
do
know me, Emma. We’ve known each other through thick and thin, weathered crises together, partnered in Pinochle and dominoes and horseshoes in the summer. I’ve told you things I’ve never told my sisters, and we’ve given each other advice and support during rough times. Please don’t let one stupid mistake on my part take that all away.”