Hiding Out Read online

  Hiding Out

  Nicole Andrews Moore

  Copyright 2013 by Nicole Andrews Moore

  Acknowledgements

  As always, I really couldn’t have done this without the support and encouragement I received from my family and friends…

  But I’d really like to thank a few people I’ve never met in person:

  JB McGee, you have been instrumental in my success. I would be nothing without your teachings.

  Summer, you opened up the market for me. Thank you for the book love. I am forever in your debt.

  Kris, thank you for introducing me to JB. Big big big hugs.

  Chapter 1

  “Is that what you like?” The words had come out all wrong. What she really intended was to check for understanding. She should have said, ‘Would you like me to handle that?’ The minute the words escaped the safe but sensual confines of her lips, Haley Iverson cringed on the other end of the phone. What was it about that man that made her bungle her phrasing? She bit her lip while she awaited a response.

  Samuel Davenport’s eye brows had arched instantly. Every time he spoke with his assistant, he was left feeling like a dissatisfied 1-900 caller. It was something in her voice, the sexy, yet professional way she spoke. Or maybe it was in the way he imagined her soft, full lips curving to form each word. It might be the way he pictured her sitting at her desk with her shapely legs crossed, exposing ample calf, slender ankle, and whichever open toed shoe she was sporting that day. He shook his head slightly to focus on the question at hand.

  Is that what you like? He wrapped his mind around the question. “Oh, yes, Miss Iverson,” he said, his response immediately taking on a double meaning. He pushed the button to disconnect then, and leaned back in his leather chair, spent.

  With a twinkle in his eye, his brother Adam shifted in the seat he had occupied for the better part of an hour. “Shall we go to lunch then, or would you rather I leave you two alone?”

  Scowling, Samuel looked at his watch. “What are you talking about?” He had no idea his emotions were so obvious.

  “I was just trying to remember the last time you had a ‘thing’ for a personal assistant.” He pulled at his chin to emphasize how seriously he was considering this.

  Rolling his eyes, Samuel responded. “I created the interoffice dating policy…”

  Adam interrupted. “More like the ‘No Interoffice Dating Policy.’” He sighed. “Why do you think I stopped working here?” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “Because you quickly found you had no talent for the business and even less talent for waking up before noon five consecutive days a week.” He gave his brother a wry smile. “As I was saying, I designed the policy, I can’t break it.” He spent a moment tidying his desk then moved to the door. “Let’s go,” he urged.

  When he opened the door, Haley jumped. He shook his head. She was a bundle of mysteries to unravel. She was more than efficient, assertive enough to run the office and get the job done, but at the same time she seemed to be constantly on edge. The first week that she was there she seemed stable enough. She followed his very pregnant assistant, Ellen, around as she learned to fill in for her old college roommate. Now, after a little over three weeks, her nervous disposition had worn on his last nerve. Haley startled every time a door opened. With his brusque nature and tendency to rush in and out, he found her gasping and saucer eyed more often than not. At first, he would apologize profusely, but now the annoyance of it left him with a semi permanent scowl.

  “She is a jumpy little thing, isn’t she?” Adam remarked as the elevator doors closed around them.

  “Yes,” Samuel sighed, glancing at his watch. “I can only spare about forty-five minutes today. So what do you suggest?”

  Adam smirked. “Forty-five whole minutes? Well, there’s this great hot dog cart around the corner,” he said sarcastically, a reaction to the time constraints imposed upon him. He steered the conversation back to his original topic. “She has a lot of potential though, don’t you think?” He mused.

  “I suppose,” Samuel responded in a non-committal manner.

  “I mean, sure her hair is this strange mousey brown color, and her clothes are a poor fit, but you must have noticed her legs or…”

  “Her shoes,” Samuel finished for him and turned pink on the tips of his ears. Adam was gaping at him, so he might as well complete his thought. “Clearly the woman has some sense of style. Her taste in shoes is impeccable. And the way they always show off her cute little pedicured feet...” He sighed. “I may have noticed.”

  “Well, it’s about time,” Adam said, clapping him on the back.

  “It’s not like I said I wanted to marry her,” he responded with a shrug.

  “I know. But since Gabriella you haven’t exhibited any interest in women what-so-ever.”

  They exited the lobby and headed to the diner across the street. They had ordered, received their beverages, and their food was on its way out from the kitchen when Samuel finally decided to speak in his defense.

  “It’s not true,” he said quietly.

  “Huh?” Adam had forgotten what they were talking about. At the moment he was highly distracted by a blonde sitting alone at the counter. Her bottom was filling the seat perfectly and her legs stretched all the way up.

  “I have been interested in women since Gabriella. They simply haven’t been interested in me.” He poured some ketchup on his plate and began dipping his fries into it two at a time.

  “They are all interested in you. You could have your pick. You just choose not to.” He was trying desperately to make eye contact with the blonde before she finished paying her check.

  “They are interested in my money. They are interested in my power. Dare I even suggest that they might be intrigued by my rugged build and devastatingly good looks? But they are most certainly not interested in me.” He was now plunging his burger in the ketchup.

  “Why do you order a plain burger and then insist on dipping it in ketchup?” It was an old gripe and Samuel simply smiled as he continued to eat. “And what is the difference?”

  “The difference is simple, my dear brother. I want a woman who wants to get to know me and doesn’t care about the money or the power. I want to be liked for who I am, not what I have to offer.” He began pounding on the bottom of the ketchup bottle, only to have it belch out an exceedingly large glob of ketchup, much of which managed to end up on his shirt. “Oh, crap!” He managed emphatically.

  Adam grabbed a few napkins, prepared to dab at the mess, but Samuel shooed him away. “I’ll fix it at the office.” He glanced at his watch again. “Ugh. I have to go anyway. We’ll talk later.”

  “Absolutely,” Adam responded with a nod. “We aren’t through with our conversation yet.”

  “Yes, we are,” he shot over his shoulder as he tossed some bills on the table and left.

  Stretching out, Adam said under his breath. “Nope. It’s just getting interesting.”

  Haley was picking at some leftover Chicken Alfredo when Samuel came bursting through the door. She inhaled sharply, lodging a miniscule morsel of Portobello mushroom in her airway. Without even considering what he was doing and scarcely pausing, he stepped behind her and gave her a sound thumping on the back. “Easy girl,” he said. And she suddenly felt like a horse.

  He made his way to his office and let the door swing three quarters of the way shut. “Miss Iverson, could you come in here a moment?”

  They were the only two left in the building, since most everyone took lunch from one to two every afternoon, returning only reluctantly. Haley swallowed and took a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn’t always been like this. She used to be fearless. Unfortunately, she discovered too late that a little fear i
s often a good thing. Slowly, she opened the door. Samuel Davenport was not wearing a shirt. She swallowed hard and tried to hide the panic that was stirring within her. Impatiently, he waved her closer.

  “I’ll just stay here if you don’t mind,” she said quietly.

  He looked at her with an expression of annoyance. “Well, I do mind. Get over here.”

  Glancing behind her once more and mentally calculating the distance to the door, Haley reluctantly met him on the opposite side of the desk. “Yes, Mr. Davenport?” She focused her attention downward, determined not to stare at the sharp muscle definition in his chest, or the way he had only the sparsest amount of hair that culminated at his belly button and trailed well below her line of sight.

  He shook his head in annoyance. Never before had a woman responded to his body with so little interest. “Could you run this shirt to the cleaners? And then I’ll need a fresh one. What’s closest?” She stared at him blankly, clearly unfamiliar with the geography of the city. He all but growled in frustration. Scribbling some directions on a scrap of paper, and including his shirt size requirements, he handed her a credit card from his wallet and sent her out the door. “Hurry please. I can’t work like this.” He gestured to mean shirtless and exposed.

  Biting her lip, Haley exited the room. She was about to shut the door when a thought occurred to her. “What color would you like?”

  Samuel was frozen for a moment, caught up in the curve of her lips, the way her neck looked with her head tilted at that angle, exposing that utterly kissable hollow near her collar bone. He shook his head, clearing away the distractions, and sighed. Tossing her the tie, he said, “Surprise me.”

  Surprise him. He had surprised her. He was strutting around the office half naked and now she was adding personal shopper to her already long job description. I have a Master’s degree, she moaned in her head. How did I get here? But she already knew the answer to that question.

  Her life had been so different before, so carefree. But on that fateful New Year’s Day, the day of resolutions and fresh beginnings, while the rest of the world slept, she had stood and stared at a list of cities preparing to board and made a decision. She had been shivering, bruised, and sore all over, but somehow mustered the courage to request a one way ticket to the most dangerous and unlikely destination she could imagine: New York City. Going by train meant she would have no contact with Lady Liberty, of course, but she was at least guaranteed to be swept into a sea of anonymity, which was perfect because she didn’t want to be found. She took temp jobs to make ends meet. Haley needed to keep moving. Her aches and bruises gradually disappeared, but the wounds that couldn’t be seen took longer to heal. Emotionally, she was a wreck. She never went out after dark, even if it meant that she missed a meal or entertainment opportunities. I just need time, she reminded herself. It’s only been six months.

  Returning to the office with minutes to spare before the lunch crowd’s return, Haley rapped lightly on Samuel’s office door. “Come back later,” he said brusquely. And she identified the sound of papers being moved wildly about his desk.

  “Okay,” she answered quietly.

  “Miss Iverson?” He asked with a small degree of hope and greater amount of exasperation.

  “Yes,” she responded meekly.

  He sighed. “What are you waiting for? You know why I can’t see anyone right now.” He had marched over to the office door, swung it open, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her into the room before slamming the door. “So, let me see it.”

  Earlier at Saks she had been so certain of her choice, so confident in her purchase, but now having to face him and stand up to his criticism, she suddenly felt very nervous. Slowly, she passed him the dry cleaning receipt and his credit card, both of which he grabbed with unconcealed disgust.

  “The shirt, Miss Iverson.” He held his hand out.

  Haley sighed, tried to think of some explanation to give while she awaited his response and finally ended by simply shoving it into his hand and mumbling, “Here.”

  Checking the size first, Samuel then pulled the shirt on and began buttoning it briskly. He straightened his cuffs, reached for the tie she offered, and knotted it around his neck. At last, he opened a door in the wall, which had a full length mirror affixed to the backside. “Hmm,” he began, “it’s not what I would have chosen.”

  “I know,” Haley said dejectedly. She had only been there a short time, but she had quickly discovered that his taste in clothes ran somewhere along the lines of conservative to Amish.

  “This is…” He struggled to find the appropriate word.

  “Stylish, bold, sophisticated?” She suggested hopefully.

  “I was thinking more like…loud.” The corners of his mouth hinted at a smile.

  “I give up,” she said with obvious irritation. “You know where to find me.” She turned to storm out of the room, but Samuel grabbed her wrist. Instantly she froze.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  She merely nodded and rushed out.

  He raised his eyes to the heavens when the door closed behind her. What had he done? One second he was lost in the moment with her, enjoying their playful banter, the next she stiffened up and raced from the room. Trying to focus again on the advertising campaign sitting on his desk, he stared at the mock ups of commercial storyboards. It was no use. I can feel I’m going to regret this, he thought. And then, without wasting another minute he headed for the door. He had to talk to her and find out why she hated working for him so much.

  For some reason, he wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t looking where he was going. And that’s why he stumbled right into the chair she was standing on while tending to some plants on the ledge above the filing cabinets. Instantly, she was knocked off balance, teetering on those silly stiletto heels, and ultimately careening backwards. What was he supposed to do? Let her fall? Instead, he caught her. It wasn’t difficult really, especially once he discovered that there actually was very little to her under that voluminous dress.

  Haley laid there trembling in his arms. At first he supposed it was a result of her near accident, but then he wondered if it might not be him. Samuel’s first instinct was to hug her close, hold her tightly until the trembling faded and she realized she was safe, but he knew somehow that would only make it worse. Finally, she began to wriggle, trying to free herself from his grasp.

  “Hold on,” he said quietly. “Let me help you up.” He circled his hands around her tiny waist, noting that they very nearly touched, and placed her upright on the chair once more.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled a bit breathlessly, which had the most unnerving effect on him. She turned her concentration to the plants, but he couldn’t let her get away that easily.

  “Is it me?” He asked in a low voice, trying not to attract attention in the once again crowded office.

  Taking a deep breath and exhaling very slowly to steady her nerves, she said seriously, “No, it’s not you.” She stood there on the chair, looking down at him, from nearly a foot above his eye level. She knew that he wasn’t ready to be finished with the conversation. She expected he would press for more answers and she wasn’t sure how many she was willing to give up yet.

  “Have you always been this timid?” He wore a look of genuine concern.

  She gave a hollow laugh. “No, this character flaw developed rather recently.”

  Fighting the urge to prod more, he raised his hands in a helpless manner. Samuel started to return to his office, then thought better of it and headed down the hall with a sense of purpose.

  Dr. Erikson’s office was on the same floor as the rest of the executives. When the firm took a new approach to advertising a few years back and decided to explore the psychological impacts of their strategies, Erikson made the short list of professionals to be brought in for the job. He had stayed on after the success of the very first campaign he contributed to and found that his qualifications made him ideal for any number of necessary tasks aroun
d the office, not the least of which was monitoring the mental health of all the employees.

  Knocking once and entering before the doctor gave a response was typical of Samuel, and today was no different. “Mr. Davenport,” Dr. Erikson greeted him without even looking up.

  “How ever did you know?” Samuel joked.

  “Business or pleasure?” The man asked laying his pen down on his desk and giving Samuel his full attention.

  “Business, I think.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “Now I’m fascinated. It must be a woman.” He leaned forward awaiting a response.

  Samuel cleared his throat. He would have been annoyed, but this man, a long time friend of his father, knew him better than most people did. “It’s my temp,” he began. “I need some insight into her personality.” He sat down across the desk and waited.