say that I am on my
own."
Mike's
admiration for her cheerful attitude grew. Now he understood André's
inexplicable desire to hire this unknown woman. André, intuitive as he was, would
have recognized her not just her honesty but her indomitable spirit. No wonder
he wanted to keep her.
Mike
stared at her for a long moment, captured by her vivacious personality, "How
did your mother die, if you don’t mind me asking?"
"Breast
cancer."
Mike
stiffened, frozen to instant stillness. For a second, or a minute, the whole
world stopped. All movement and sound in the room faded into a buzz of white
noise. Jumping to his feet abruptly, Mike gradually became aware that he was
frowning.
"Are
you okay?" Marcy asked with a concerned expression in her eyes.
He
forced a smile. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "Tell
me…you," he cleared his throat, "you get regular mammograms
right?"
"I
had one two years ago when I first found out that my mom was sick," she
said.
"If
your mother died of breast cancer, you should have them yearly," he said.
His strict tone made his admonition sound like a parent's scolding, and he
reined himself in. A confused and uncertain furrow formed between Marcy's
brows. "André is paying for your medical now, so be sure to arrange for another
one," he added, forcing himself to speak in a more composed voice.
He
took a deep breath, recovering from the unexpected panic at the thought of her
dying. What was that about?
Without
thinking, Mike pulled her to her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise when he
grabbed her hands, but he ignored her response. Adrenaline was still pulsing
through his veins. Just now he had to get away.
"C'mon,
I'll take you to lunch. It's a beautiful day and the rest of this interview deals
with us chatting about a few things. I think we need to get out of here."
11.Fishing
Marcy's
head spun. This new job of hers just got weirder and weirder. Where was she
going now?
This
literally movie star handsome security guy had surprised her. He'd had such an
unexpected reaction, when he found out how her mother had died. Apparently he
was worried and protective on her behalf, which was sweet, really.
His
stern response created a tight painful pleasure in her chest. It was a long
time since anyone had showed such concern for her welfare. What was the deal
with him? Why should he care when he had only just met her?
Marcy
decided she didn't know the man well enough to pursue the clearly sensitive
subject. He would talk to her about it if he wanted to.
They
had taken the express elevator down to where Mike had parked his black BMW. Marcy
was happy to lighten the mood by giving him more ribbing about him taking on
the personality and possessions of the Transporter.
"Admit
it," she said, strapping on her seat belt. "You are the Transporter."
He
smiled that endearing, cocky smile of his and said in his feigned English
accent, "You just keep thinking that sweetheart."
Marcy
giggled. He asked her how she felt about a round of miniature golf at the "Putt
Park" miniature golf course? It had eighteen holes. Marcy was up for
anything as long as André didn't mind, and told him so.
"Hey,"
Mike said. "Have you ever been fishing?"
Marcy
frowned and regarded him suspiciously. That was an odd out of the blue question.
"Sure. I used to fish all the time at Lake Mohave with my mom and dad. I think
my dad would have preferred a son, but he had to settle with me."
"I
don’t believe it," Mike said. "You would have been a cute little
girl. I bet you had him wrapped around your finger."
Marcy
just laughed. Dad would have definitely preferred a boy. Her father certainly
hadn't been perfect, but he had loved her – Marcy never doubted that. Her
ongoing problem with her daughter darkened her thoughts for a moment, despite
the cheerful mood she was in.
What
was she going to do about Trent? Katie's father's neglect was so painful,
especially when Katie asked about him, which she did often. Could a mother's
love
own."
Mike's
admiration for her cheerful attitude grew. Now he understood André's
inexplicable desire to hire this unknown woman. André, intuitive as he was, would
have recognized her not just her honesty but her indomitable spirit. No wonder
he wanted to keep her.
Mike
stared at her for a long moment, captured by her vivacious personality, "How
did your mother die, if you don’t mind me asking?"
"Breast
cancer."
Mike
stiffened, frozen to instant stillness. For a second, or a minute, the whole
world stopped. All movement and sound in the room faded into a buzz of white
noise. Jumping to his feet abruptly, Mike gradually became aware that he was
frowning.
"Are
you okay?" Marcy asked with a concerned expression in her eyes.
He
forced a smile. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "Tell
me…you," he cleared his throat, "you get regular mammograms
right?"
"I
had one two years ago when I first found out that my mom was sick," she
said.
"If
your mother died of breast cancer, you should have them yearly," he said.
His strict tone made his admonition sound like a parent's scolding, and he
reined himself in. A confused and uncertain furrow formed between Marcy's
brows. "André is paying for your medical now, so be sure to arrange for another
one," he added, forcing himself to speak in a more composed voice.
He
took a deep breath, recovering from the unexpected panic at the thought of her
dying. What was that about?
Without
thinking, Mike pulled her to her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise when he
grabbed her hands, but he ignored her response. Adrenaline was still pulsing
through his veins. Just now he had to get away.
"C'mon,
I'll take you to lunch. It's a beautiful day and the rest of this interview deals
with us chatting about a few things. I think we need to get out of here."
11.Fishing
Marcy's
head spun. This new job of hers just got weirder and weirder. Where was she
going now?
This
literally movie star handsome security guy had surprised her. He'd had such an
unexpected reaction, when he found out how her mother had died. Apparently he
was worried and protective on her behalf, which was sweet, really.
His
stern response created a tight painful pleasure in her chest. It was a long
time since anyone had showed such concern for her welfare. What was the deal
with him? Why should he care when he had only just met her?
Marcy
decided she didn't know the man well enough to pursue the clearly sensitive
subject. He would talk to her about it if he wanted to.
They
had taken the express elevator down to where Mike had parked his black BMW. Marcy
was happy to lighten the mood by giving him more ribbing about him taking on
the personality and possessions of the Transporter.
"Admit
it," she said, strapping on her seat belt. "You are the Transporter."
He
smiled that endearing, cocky smile of his and said in his feigned English
accent, "You just keep thinking that sweetheart."
Marcy
giggled. He asked her how she felt about a round of miniature golf at the "Putt
Park" miniature golf course? It had eighteen holes. Marcy was up for
anything as long as André didn't mind, and told him so.
"Hey,"
Mike said. "Have you ever been fishing?"
Marcy
frowned and regarded him suspiciously. That was an odd out of the blue question.
"Sure. I used to fish all the time at Lake Mohave with my mom and dad. I think
my dad would have preferred a son, but he had to settle with me."
"I
don’t believe it," Mike said. "You would have been a cute little
girl. I bet you had him wrapped around your finger."
Marcy
just laughed. Dad would have definitely preferred a boy. Her father certainly
hadn't been perfect, but he had loved her – Marcy never doubted that. Her
ongoing problem with her daughter darkened her thoughts for a moment, despite
the cheerful mood she was in.
What
was she going to do about Trent? Katie's father's neglect was so painful,
especially when Katie asked about him, which she did often. Could a mother's
love
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