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“Yes, that would please her for now.”
“For now,” he replies blandly. “Jane, does she still want to make you marry him?”
A cold knot forms in my belly at the idea. No. I would not marry Jasper Pierce. No matter how much that displeased my mother. “Yes. She would prefer it. But it’s never going to happen.”
“Why?” he demands. I hear him growing more and more frustrated.
“Because I refuse to marry for anything less than being madly in love,” I reply without apology. “I’ve told you my dream life, there is no reason I can’t have that life and still manage to be a badass in the energy industry.”
He’s silent for a moment and I wonder if he was getting his words together. Maybe my boldness of saying I wanted to be madly in love, that I wanted this big, huge life for myself was turning him off.
I pushed away the need inside me to apologize for being so blunt. I wouldn’t apologize for having these dreams.
“Okay,” he replies, and I can finally hear that easy smile return to his voice. “You most definitely can be a badass, no matter who you end up with.”
And this right there was why I was so damn smitten with him, and in huge, huge trouble.
Chapter Seventeen
“I love the way our eyes make love to each others souls.”
-Christopher Poindexter
Warren
Work had been tense at times and more fun than ever in other moments. I still managed to sneak into Jane’s office every morning, but after the third time I’d done so and ran into her assistant Lisa taking notes while Jane was on a conference call, I realized I’d taken advantage of the fact that I could come in here and have a moment alone with her.
Not that I stopped trying. But every freaking time, someone was in there with her and Jane, taking this whole “keep it quiet” thing on the down low, ignored me like a champ.
It was getting on my nerves.
I didn’t blame her for it. From what I know of her mom and the people at this company, they’re relying heavily on the woman in charge, a.k.a.mywoman. Jane was constantly under a boatload of pressure.
What I wouldn’t give to help her relieve some of that pressure.
Instead of being able to do what I wanted, I had to resort to sending her the notes again.
I wanted to sign them but popping that bubble without addressing it first made me think she would assume I was a copycat instead of just the original sender.
So every morning, I slipped a note into the pile of mail and gave her the most discreet wink I could manage before leaving the room, only hoping that tomorrow would come sooner.
“Hey man, you’re home again.” I sigh as Derek comes into my room, plopping himself down on the bed across from where I’m sitting at my desk, pouring over every poem I’ve ever written and compiling my best works.
“Yep, am I supposed to be somewhere else?”
Derek shrugs and I lift a brow. “I thought you were seeing that Jane chick. That didn’t work out?”
I bite my lip and take another poem from the book I write in and type it into my computer. While I preferred to handwrite everything, publishers wanted to see things electronically and in a neat style.
“It’s still early,” is all I can say to him. I can’t explain the fact that she doesn’t want to put a label on us, I can’t figure out how to explain that without sounding completely pathetic.
“Hm, okay.” Derek hops up and gestures to the computer. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m trying to put together some sort of manuscript to send to publishers.”
Derek gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. “No way, dude. That’s awesome! We’ve got to celebrate.”
“Celebrate me copy and pasting?”
