Sparks

He waved at her, feeling in the neighborly mood. “Evening, Lana.”

She looked at him and her mouth fell open. Suddenly, her face spread into an amused smile. “Hi, Jordan. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re not cold? The wind doesn’t bother you?”

“No, the weather’s great. I can feel spring in the air.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can feel a lot of things.” She laughed and went inside.

He shook his head confused by her laughter and rested his hands on his hips. That’s when he knew why she was laughing. He’d forgotten to put his clothes on.

Chapter 2

When the phone rang early the next morning, Simone and Dawn stared at each other over Dawn’s desk. They had spent the last few hours trying to pretend they were busy. The phones had been silent for a while.

“It could be a possible client,” Simone said.

Dawn bit her lip and reached for her box of croissants then remembered she’d already had two. She knew they weren’t healthier than donuts, but at least they looked it. “Or a bill collector.”

The phone rang again.

“Let them leave a message,” Dawn said.

Simone headed for the outer office to answer it. “I think it’s a client.”

Dawn sighed and glanced around her office. She once had a closet bigger than this room.

Simone’s voice came over the speakerphone. “There’s a call for you. Jordan Taylor from The Medical Institute.”

Dawn frowned. The Medical Institute was a well-established company that trained medical personnel. Why would they call her? “You mean A Mental Interlude?”

Simone laughed. “Cute. Pick up the phone.”

“Okay.” She switched lines. This was probably another one of Brandon’s tricks. She leaned back in her chair, resting her feet on the desk. “Dawn Ajani, how may I help you?”

“Hello. My name is Jordan Taylor. I am the new CEO of The Medical Institute. I read your ad in Washington Business and would be interested in using your services.”

She rolled her eyes. Sure, and I’m a five-eleven swimsuit model. “What can I do for you, Mr. Taylor?”

“I would like to make some changes to our company’s structure and I am interested in a consultation. I’d like to schedule an appointment with you right away.” He hesitated. “The issues I need to deal with are rather delicate in nature.”

Dawn shook her head. It was a shame he sounded so sincere. His accent wasn’t that of a Washington native. It had a slow Southern quality that made her think of Indian summers and the amber color of bourbon glistening in a crystal decanter. “Of course you would. When would you like to meet?”

“Tomorrow night. You could come to my place.”

“Your place.” Right. Another pig. “Mr. Taylor, may I suggest that you continue to play this little game on your own time? There are 900 numbers available for you. I’m sure Brandon could give you plenty to choose from.”

She expected him to get angry or deny it, but a thick silence seeped through the line. Dread made her skin tingle. Had she made a mistake? “Mr. Taylor?”

Eventually, he said, “I think I have the wrong number. Excuse me.”

Dawn sat up and swung her legs to the ground. Her foot dislodged a stack of books, causing two to crash to the ground. “No, wait! Mr. Taylor?”

“I’m still here,” he said with a note of regret.

“I am terribly sorry. No, please don’t hang up. There’s been a misunderstanding. I…well, there’s no excuse really.” Except for the fact that I’m a moron. “ Let’s try this again. Okay?” She waited. Soon the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Dawn squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. “I’m an idiot.” She replaced the receiver. “Score one for Brandon.” She stared at the box of croissants, then threw them away. She had to make serious changes in her life.

Dawn stood, rested her head on the window frame and saw the man from yesterday still looking for his alien friends. She probably should call the police. She rested her forehead against the cool window. Either that or join him.

Simone peeked her head inside. “Well?”

She waved a dismissive hand and groaned. “Don’t ask.”

The phone rang.

“I’m not here,” Dawn said as Simone went to the phone. Simone answered then listened. She hit the mute button then turned to Dawn. “You’d better answer this.”

“Why?”

“It’s him. That Taylor guy.”

Dawn lunged for the phone and hit her knee against the desk. She swore and answered in a breathless rush. “Dawn Ajani speaking. How may I help you?”

“Is this a bad time?”

Her heart raced. Yes, it was definitely him, bourbon and hot southern nights. She frowned. Where had that come from? “No, not at all.”

“Hello. My name is Jordan Taylor. I saw your ad and would be interested in using your services.”

She felt heady from his voice and the relief that followed. She fell into her chair. “Oh, I’m so glad you called back. I am terribly sorry for the mix up before. I guess I’m still recuperating from a bad meeting with a man who took up four hours of my time yesterday and I took my frustration out on you.”

“Ms. Ajani—”

“When you hung up I thought, Oh great, I’ve lost a fantastic opportunity. Should I call back?”

“Ms. Ajani—”

“But that would be difficult because he probably has an unlisted number. So you can imagine how—”

“Ms. Ajani!”

She halted. “Yes?”

“I thought the point of my calling back was to pretend that the previous conversation didn’t happen.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I would like to schedule a meeting,” he said with exaggerated patience.

She looked at her empty calendar. “Okay. When would be convenient?”

“We can meet outside my house. There’s a restaurant that is within walking distance. Parking is difficult so it’s easier to walk.”

“About my fee—”

“Just send me your invoice.”

She pumped the air with her fist. Money was no object. “Okay, also—”

“I’ll see you at seven tomorrow. I’ll give your assistant the directions. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” She transferred the call to Simone. “Simone, can you please get directions from Mr. Taylor,” she said then hung up. She sagged against her chair. A possible client. Time to treat herself! She looked in the trash bin and pulled out the box of croissants.

“What are you doing?”

Dawn glanced up and saw Simone staring at her with a knowing grin. She grinned back, feeling a little guilty. “We really shouldn’t let good food go to waste.”

Simone eagerly pulled up a side chair and sat. “So what happened?”

Dawn dropped the box back in the garbage. “I think we might have a new client. Find out all you can on The Medical Institute.”

Jordan Taylor stared at the phone. Perhaps working with Ajani Consulting wasn’t such a good idea. The company was small and hungry. Something he could control. He liked being in control, but based on the phone conversation he had just had, he was having second thoughts. The owner might prove difficult. He’d find out more at the meeting. Maybe even call another company to keep his options open.

His assistant Marlene Dobson knocked on the door then entered. The bracelets on her wrists and ankles clinked as she walked. He didn’t think it professional to wear so much jewelry, but she’d been with the business from the beginning and he didn’t want to change what worked and Marlene certainly did.

She held up a package, the gold bracelets on her brown arm clanking together. “This is for you.”

“Just put it on the desk, thanks.”

He looked at the second name on the list. Franklin Enterprises, a renowned consulting firm might have more experience. The phone rang. He hit the speakerphone. “Taylor.”

A female voice came on the line. “Hey, baby. Guess what I plan to do to you tonight.”

Jordan grabbed the phone and sent Marlene a smile. She pretended not to notice as she put the packet in his in-box. She left and closed the door.

“I’m at work, Gail,” he warned in a low voice.

“So? You didn’t mind my messages before.”

“I wasn’t in this position before.”

He glanced around the large office both proud and scared of his new responsibility. Only three weeks ago he was snorkeling in Barbados until his father decided to semiretire, because of a diagnosed heart condition, and made him head of the Institute.

“What should I wear tonight?”

Jordan put a big question mark against Ajani Consulting. “What’s happening tonight?”

Her tone sharpened. “Nothing if you keep up that attitude.”

“Gail, I have a lot on my mind. What are you talking about?”

“I’ve decided that we should make up. I know you’re under a lot of pressure and need space so I think—”

“Gail. I like you. You deserve better. Honey, you know you do. Any time you want to talk, you know how to reach me.”

“Somehow this still feels like you’re dumping me.”

“No. Remember you’re dumping me, your absentminded, single-focused boyfriend.”

She hesitated. “But you’re so sincere and sweet.”

“I’m not sweet and you think I’m heartless, remember?”

She sighed. “That’s what I tell myself, but I know better. I wish I could hate you.”

“I could come up with a reason if you give me a chance.”

Gail sighed again, this time resigned. “Bye, Jordan.”

“Bye, honey.” He absently replaced the receiver and placed another question mark on the paper next to Ajani Consulting. The owner really sounded ditzy. Perhaps he should cancel.

Someone knocked on the door. Jordan glanced up. “Come in.”

His half brother Ray entered the room with a sense of entitlement Jordan was trying to achieve. Ray had been with the company since his midteens. “Have you looked at the document Revis Technologies sent?”

Jordan glanced at the package. “No, not yet.”

Ray lifted the packet Marlene had placed in the in-box. “Here it is.”

“Marlene just put it there.”

Ray tucked it under his arm and turned to the door. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, you won’t.”

Ray spun around and laughed as though Jordan had made a joke. “Trust me. I’ll take care of it. I doubt you’d understand it.”

Jordan held out his hand. “Here’s a news flash. I know how to read.”

“But there’s nothing in here about water temperature.”

“Put it back, Ray.”

“You don’t belong here, Jordan. No matter how much you try to play the game. You’ve never belonged because—” He stopped.

“Because I’m the bastard and you’re not? Yeah. I can be a bastard in more ways than one so I suggest you put that package back and go on your lunch break.”

Ray tossed the file down, causing papers to fall to the ground, then left.

Jordan watched the door close then sighed and picked up the fallen papers. He’d make this company work. He’d show them that he didn’t take the Taylor name for granted.

His intercom buzzed and Marlene’s voice came on the line. “Uh, Mr. Taylor. There’s someone on the line who says she has to speak to you.”

“Who?”

“She says her name is Maxine.”

His gut clenched. What the hell would she want with him? “Tell her I’m not here.” He pressed the button and leaned back for a moment wishing that were true.

Chapter 3

“Jordan Taylor. That sounds like a nice name,” Simone said, looking at the information on her desk. Jordan had sent them an outline of his ideas to see if Dawn could come up with something for their meeting.

Dawn tapped her desk with impatience and sent her assistant a cool look. “That’s not why I plan to work with him.”

Simone set the paper down. “Are you sure you can do this? It’s a big job. You’ve never dealt with this kind of assignment before.”

Dawn glanced around her office at her particle board furniture and stained brown carpet. She would do anything to rebuild her life and get herself out of this place. “Am I sure that I can make The Medical Institute a viable entity? Of course. I have no doubt that I can make The Medical Institute number one in the state. I can make it a place where people in the medical profession go to first when they want to recruit medical and dental assistants and secretaries.”

“Remember it’s his institute not yours,” Simone said with caution.

“It will be our institute, eventually. A joint effort. I plan to make it very clear that it will be in his best interest to follow my suggestions.”

“How?”

Dawn smiled faintly. “As long as you make a man believe something is his idea, he will go along with it.”

“I’m not questioning your skill,” Simone said quickly, knowing how determined her boss and friend was. “I just think, perhaps…sometimes you tend to overwhelm people.”

Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Have there been complaints?”

“No, just…” She waved her hands, trying to grasp the right explanation. “People want to feel that their ideas are being acknowledged. I know that you’re good at what you do and you always get results, but you also need to let others be good at what they do.”

“They’re obviously not very good at what they do, if they have to come to me.”

“They want a consultation, not an overhaul. At times your ideas are very grandiose and that makes some people nervous. Perhaps you could start small and then build from there.”

Dawn abruptly stopped tapping the desk. “I don’t have the patience to start small. Especially when given the opportunity to do otherwise.”

Simone nodded, but Dawn knew her friend would never understand her drive. Right now she was struggling, but she knew she would eventually prosper, and when she was strong enough, she’d crush the Layton Group.

“Basing a business on revenge is not a good idea.”

Dawn’s dark eyes focused on Simone. “What do you mean?”

Simone touched the information sheet. “This is about Brandon, isn’t it? Everything you do is.”

She stood, suddenly feeling restless. “No. This is about business. Besides I’m glad he’s gone. He was a dreadful business partner. I know he has to resist lifting his leg every time he passes a fire hydrant.”

“Careful. You’re beginning to sound bitter.”

She went to the window and glanced down at the parking lot. “I might as well get it out of my system. I need the skill and patience to handle Mr. Taylor properly.”

“I doubt Mr. Taylor would like to be ‘handled.’”

Dawn turned to her and leaned against the windowsill. “I’ve learned a lot about men over the years. They usually don’t know what they want until you tell them. Well, in the case of Jordan Taylor, I’ll tell him what he wants then help him get it.”

“So who’s next?” David Watkins asked Jordan as they sat in an upscale eatery finishing a hearty breakfast. They were both large men with appetites to match. The plates between them threatened to cause an avalanche that neither noticed. David leaned over his plate as he cut his omelet, his brown dreadlocks falling forward.

Jordan glanced at his friend, wishing he could convince him to tie his hair back. He dashed hot pepper on his poached eggs instead. “Next for what?”

“In line. Since you and Gail broke up I’m sure there’s someone new.” He glanced at his watch.

“Naturally, I’m not surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s April. Gail reached her four-month mark. Her sell-by date had expired.”

Jordan scowled at his accuracy. “It isn’t like that.”

“Since your divorce you haven’t been with a woman longer than four months.”

Jordan tucked into his eggs. “You’ve been keeping track?”

“Three women in the last year. Does that ring a bell?”

He sipped his coffee and shrugged.

“Based on those facts the most logical question is: Who’s next?”

“Nobody.”

“There has to be somebody. Since ninth grade you’ve always had a girlfriend.”

The waitress approached the table. Her long black hair hung in a ponytail, leaving her heart-shaped face prominent and displaying streaks of rouge from her chin to her cheek. “Are you enjoying your meal?” she asked.

Jordan nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Would you like me to refill your coffee?”

He covered his mug. Coffee brimmed to the rim. “No, thanks.”

She smiled and left.

David rubbed his eyes. “Either I’m suffering from déjà vu or that’s the fifth time she’s come over here.”

Jordan watched her take an order from a young couple cooing at their baby. “She’s just very attentive.”

“Yes, on catching a man.” David followed his gaze. “Careful, these women have nets.”

“I don’t plan on getting caught.”

“You were once.”

Jordan tapped the rim of his mug. “Yes, I’d managed to forget my three-year marriage. Thanks for reminding me.”

David ignored his sarcasm. “It was inevitable. You’ll get caught again too. You can’t be without a woman longer than a week.”

Jordan looked annoyed. “Of course I can. I just like their company. Women intrigue me.”

“Until you get antsy and need to get rid of them.”

“I don’t get rid of them. I give them a reason to get rid of me.”

David lifted a brow. “So you admit there’s a method to all this.”

“I don’t admit a thing.”

“What will you do when a woman doesn’t want to get rid of you?”

He smiled. “Not a problem. They always do.”

“That’s not something to brag about.”

His smile fell. “I wasn’t bragging. It’s a fact.”

They were silent then David said, “You shouldn’t be afraid.”

Jordan gripped his fork. There was that damn word again. Afraid. “Of what?”

“Marriage.”

“I’m not afraid of marriage,” he mumbled. “I just don’t like wives.”

“Is that supposed to make sense?”

Jordan leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Women are very clever. They don’t let us know about this transformation period they go through when you put a ring on their finger. It starts out slowly during the engagement. She becomes this pre-wedding banshee from hell, crying over lace tablecloths and napkins and screaming over whether you should have an ice sculpture of a swan or a rose.”

Jordan held a hand over his heart. “But you ignore this change because you know the wedding day is a special time for her and she’s under a lot of stress. Then you get married. The day when the engagement ring and the wedding ring meet. In the distance you can hear the door of your prison closing, but still you don’t know what lies ahead. You’ve bought into the fantasy that surrounds you, the lies you’ve been told. You look into her eyes and she still looks the same. She still looks like the woman you’ve been dating for over a year. Your girlfriend. Your sweet, sexy, loving girlfriend.” His hand fell to the table, rattling the dishes. “But the truth is your girlfriend is dead. Gone forever. You now have a wife.”

David shrugged. “So? Isn’t that the point of a wedding?”

“One day you’ll wake up, preferably after the honeymoon, it will be awkward otherwise, and you’ll see her looking at you. You won’t recognize the look at first because she’s never worn it before. However, you’ll know it’s not good.”

“How?”

“The hair on the back of your neck will itch. Suddenly, you’ll recognize it as the look your mother gave you when you did something wrong, but you weren’t sure what.”

David shivered. “I hated that look.”

“Exactly, and that’s when you’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That she’s going to try and change you. She’s going to tell you how to wash dishes, clothes, take out the trash, what to wear, what to eat, how to shop. If you even glance at another woman she’ll think you’re on the verge of an affair. Once she has you suitably castrated—I mean domesticated—she’ll deliver the next blow.”

David scooped up his eggs, but they promptly dropped back to his plate. “Blow?”

Jordan sipped his coffee then set it down. “Yes, blow.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Just say it.”

“If you even hint at wanting to start a family, she’ll accuse you of trying to stop her career, wanting to make her barefoot and pregnant and keeping her tied to the house. Don’t even try to explain that you can afford for her to be a stay-at-home mom. She’s an independent woman. She doesn’t need to be kept and offered an allowance from some chauvinistic, egotistic…”

David set his fork down, suppressing a grin. “You’re digressing.”

“Right. Anyway, if you do find a woman who won’t mind being a stay-at-home mother, you’re still in the danger zone.”

“What zone is that?”

“Resentment. You don’t even know you’ve stepped into it until it blows up in your face. One moment she’s a happy wife and mother. The next moment she blames you for all the ill in the world and hates you for looking down on her. For denying her a career of her own. She’s bored, she feels stifled and unappreciated for all the sacrifices she has made.” He cut his pancakes. “With those two choices in front of me, I’ve decided to stay single.”

David shook his head. “All women are not like that.”

“I agree. There are exceptions.”

“See?”

“They’re called lesbians.”

David shook his head again.

“You show me a happily married man and I’ll show you a woman with brass balls in her handbag.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ve never been married.” Jordan pointed his fork at him. “You still have time to dream. Go ahead and take the plunge. I already have and I don’t plan to again. I’d rather have a girlfriend than a wife. You get everything without the crap.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“Think of it as healthy skepticism. I’ve made a study of this and I have an over-fifty-percent divorce rate to back up my claim. Think about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it. There are women who make great wives.”

Jordan paused then nodded. “I can think of two women. One is of course your mother.”

David inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“The second is beautiful, sweet, loving and generous. I’d take her in an instant.”

“Why don’t you?”

“She’s married to my brother. Makes the situation a bit awkward.”

“There are other women out there. Your sister-in-law isn’t the only one.”

Jordan ignored him. “Unfortunately, Emma has one little flaw which would be the only reason I wouldn’t take her.”

“You just said you would marry her.”

“No, I said I would take her. I didn’t say I’d marry her.”

David sighed. “What’s her flaw? Besides the fact that she’s in love with your brother?”

“She takes too much crap. At times I wish she’d tell my brother to take a pole and put it somewhere uncomfortable.”

David laughed at the image. “She wouldn’t dare.”

“I know. I couldn’t marry a woman I’d take advantage of.”

“You’d take advantage of her?”

“I wouldn’t mean to, but come on. When a woman does everything you want her to, wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

David paused then nodded. “Yeah, I’m lying.” He waved his fork. “So let me get this straight. You want a woman with her own business, who wants to start a family and who doesn’t take your crap, but who you can control?”

“Yep.”

“You’re right. She doesn’t exist.”

“That’s why I keep looking.”

“Which takes me right back to my point. You can’t commit to a woman. No one says you have to marry her, but dumping her—”

Jordan waved his fork.

“Having her dump you,” David corrected. “Is not natural. You need to know why you do it.”

“I don’t care why.”

“Your relationships with women are like an addiction.”

“No, they’re not.”

David sat back and studied him for a moment. “I bet you couldn’t go one month without a woman.”

“Why would I want to? Life is full of choices.”

David began to smile. “Four weeks.”

“I like my life.”

“One entire month. No sex and no new relationships.”

Jordan began to rest his elbows on the table then recognized there was no room. He folded his arms. “Are you offering a challenge?”