did imply that I was a cookie-cutter California blond when we first met. Maybe he still feels that way.
Whatever he meant by the remark I know it definitely wasn’t a compliment. I guess there really won’t be any issue with me breaking Jackson’s rule.
I’m apparently too vanilla to be attractive to Emerson.
“I’d better get back to the office.” I hold up my small bag of supplies.
As the two men head for the kitchen Emerson doesn’t even glance back at me.
Of course I am just the help. And I’m vanilla too.
I march back to the office and close the door so I won’t be disturbed.
Vanilla ? Seriously? The word is haunting me, taunting me, and making me rhyme.
I just want to punch it.
Maybe I’m so upset because the people I meet don’t generally insult me like that. Usually when people meet me they immediately like me.
Especially guys .
It’s for the best, I suppose. I’m here to work, not fool around.
But it still stings.
I roll up my sleeves and organize as much as I can without having the file cabinets.
In the bottom drawer of the desk, shoved way in the back, I’m surprised to find an old framed photo.
It’s a young Jackson sitting on a lovely white sand beach with his arm around an extremely attractive black woman.
Could that be Emerson’s mom?
Jackson is smiling, and he looks so happy he’s glowing. The woman looks happy too.
When I was doing research on Jackson prior to starting this job I viewed a lot of photos of him online. There were hundreds of them taken of Jackson and his wife before she died and he became a recluse. In all of those photos I don’t recall him ever looking as happy as he does in the photo I’m holding in my hands.
I place it back in the bottom drawer where I found it just as the door to the office opens.
“Wow,” Jackson remarks. “This place looks amazing.”
“I’m not done yet,” I tell him. “The file cabinets are being delivered tomorrow. Then I’ll really be able to get the place organized.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges. “I’m very impressed. And I’m not that easy to impress.”
We both stare at each other for a long moment.
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“How would you feel about me using the pool?”
It’s literally right outside the door of the guesthouse and I’d really love to take a dip. I just hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds by asking him if I can use it.
He waves away my concern like a gnat. “I should have mentioned that. Help yourself. I don’t use it, so somebody might as well enjoy it.”
“You don’t swim?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Why would someone buy a house with a gorgeous pool if he doesn’t swim?
He laughs. “Try buying a house with an oceanfront view without a pool. They don’t exist. My wife had to live by the ocean, so we got a pool with the view.”
I nod. “I love to swim. I was born and raised in California, so I guess it comes with the territory.”
“Use it all you want,” he tells me.
We both look out the window at the same time.
“You’d better get down there if you want to catch the last of the daylight.” He glances at his watch. “It’s already past six o’clock. Earl usually works from nine to six, when she’s here. I know she told me when she was coming back, but I can’t remember what she said. I forgot it was Spring break. Maybe she’s spending the break with her granddaughter.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything.”
“I should be the one thanking you. You’ve already done more than my last three assistants combined.”
Once he disappears down the hallway I hurry out of the office and down the hallway in the opposite direction.
I look around to make sure Knox is nowhere in sight before I open the back slider and slip outside.
I practically run back to the guesthouse and quickly change out of my clothes and into my bikini.
It gets chilly as the
Whatever he meant by the remark I know it definitely wasn’t a compliment. I guess there really won’t be any issue with me breaking Jackson’s rule.
I’m apparently too vanilla to be attractive to Emerson.
“I’d better get back to the office.” I hold up my small bag of supplies.
As the two men head for the kitchen Emerson doesn’t even glance back at me.
Of course I am just the help. And I’m vanilla too.
I march back to the office and close the door so I won’t be disturbed.
Vanilla ? Seriously? The word is haunting me, taunting me, and making me rhyme.
I just want to punch it.
Maybe I’m so upset because the people I meet don’t generally insult me like that. Usually when people meet me they immediately like me.
Especially guys .
It’s for the best, I suppose. I’m here to work, not fool around.
But it still stings.
I roll up my sleeves and organize as much as I can without having the file cabinets.
In the bottom drawer of the desk, shoved way in the back, I’m surprised to find an old framed photo.
It’s a young Jackson sitting on a lovely white sand beach with his arm around an extremely attractive black woman.
Could that be Emerson’s mom?
Jackson is smiling, and he looks so happy he’s glowing. The woman looks happy too.
When I was doing research on Jackson prior to starting this job I viewed a lot of photos of him online. There were hundreds of them taken of Jackson and his wife before she died and he became a recluse. In all of those photos I don’t recall him ever looking as happy as he does in the photo I’m holding in my hands.
I place it back in the bottom drawer where I found it just as the door to the office opens.
“Wow,” Jackson remarks. “This place looks amazing.”
“I’m not done yet,” I tell him. “The file cabinets are being delivered tomorrow. Then I’ll really be able to get the place organized.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges. “I’m very impressed. And I’m not that easy to impress.”
We both stare at each other for a long moment.
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“How would you feel about me using the pool?”
It’s literally right outside the door of the guesthouse and I’d really love to take a dip. I just hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds by asking him if I can use it.
He waves away my concern like a gnat. “I should have mentioned that. Help yourself. I don’t use it, so somebody might as well enjoy it.”
“You don’t swim?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Why would someone buy a house with a gorgeous pool if he doesn’t swim?
He laughs. “Try buying a house with an oceanfront view without a pool. They don’t exist. My wife had to live by the ocean, so we got a pool with the view.”
I nod. “I love to swim. I was born and raised in California, so I guess it comes with the territory.”
“Use it all you want,” he tells me.
We both look out the window at the same time.
“You’d better get down there if you want to catch the last of the daylight.” He glances at his watch. “It’s already past six o’clock. Earl usually works from nine to six, when she’s here. I know she told me when she was coming back, but I can’t remember what she said. I forgot it was Spring break. Maybe she’s spending the break with her granddaughter.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything.”
“I should be the one thanking you. You’ve already done more than my last three assistants combined.”
Once he disappears down the hallway I hurry out of the office and down the hallway in the opposite direction.
I look around to make sure Knox is nowhere in sight before I open the back slider and slip outside.
I practically run back to the guesthouse and quickly change out of my clothes and into my bikini.
It gets chilly as the
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