The plump, middle-aged lady with dyed black hair shushed him. She pointed to Claire’s door. “She’s asleep.”
Alarm bells went off in Jake’s head. “What’s wrong? Is she sick?”
“Bless me, no.” The secretary smiled fondly. “This is normal for some women expecting little ones. When I had my first, I wanted to sleep all day and all night for the first four months.”
Jake quietly opened Claire’s door. Her arms were crossed on the desk with her head laid on top. “You should’ve called me.”
“She’s only been out about ten minutes.”
Jake nodded. “You can go home, Mrs. Hamby. I’ll take care of her.”
The secretary gave him a wide smile as she rose and started gathering her things. “I know you will.”
Jake entered Claire’s office and touched her shoulder.
“Five more minutes,” she murmured.
Damn it. She was doing too much. She needed help, both at work and at home. He was going to have a talk with Jim Gordon. Surely the man could take some of the load off his wife. But what about at home?
They were going to need a nanny for the baby eventually, since Claire was determined to work full-time. His baby certainly wasn’t going to one of the germ factories they called day care centers. Why not go ahead and hire one now? She could help Claire prepare for the baby, give her some rest.
Yes, it was the perfect solution, but somehow he knew Claire would object strenuously. His Super Woman wanted to do everything herself.
He shook his head. Too bad. She needed time to rest. She’d asked him to help her, so that’s what he was going to do. He’d hire a nanny and present it as a
fait accompli.
He felt a twinge of doubt when he recalled her reaction at the house he’d bought without consulting her.
So, he wouldn’t actually hire anyone until she gave the okay. He’d interview several, pick out one or two of the best ones, then let her decide. He’d be following her rules to the letter— taking some of her load off but letting her make the final decision.
She should be satisfied with that.
The figures swam before Claire’s eyes, and for the hundredth time since lunch she closed her eyes. She couldn’t keep her mind on Pawnee’s accounts, and it was more than fatigue from being pregnant.
The numbers on the screen didn’t mean anything because they weren’t attached to people: She kept wondering how Mrs. McDonald was doing with her pet shop, and if Mr. Chase had figured out how to tell the difference between state and federal taxes for his grocery store. She was going to miss the crumb cake his wife made her every Christmas.
Standing, Claire stretched as she walked over to the window to enjoy the view of the Rockies. For several days now, she’d been wanting to talk to Jake about her job. What would he say if she told him she wanted to quit? She wanted to go back to Whitaker’s where she made a difference in the lives of real people.
She didn’t need this job. Since she was already pregnant, she didn’t need money for in vitro fertilization. And since she was married to Jake, she certainly didn’t need money for anything else. She hadn’t touched her bank account since they’d been married, except to pay the rent on her apartment.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t do the job. Actually, she didn’t find it nearly as daunting as she’d thought she would when he offered it to her. She just didn’t want it.
She’d learned during the past month that independence didn’t necessarily mean a big paycheck. It meant having the freedom to do the job you loved. By marrying her, Jake had given her that independence.
The thought startled her. She hadn’t thought about their relationship that way. The realization made her love him even more.
It wasn’t as if she’d be leaving Jake in the lurch. Jim Gordon was more than capable of taking over this deparment. In fact, he should’ve been offered the job in the first place.
No, Jake didn’t need her in this job, but that didn’t matter. He needed her in other, much more personal ways.
She smiled as she remembered his need just that morning. Ever since they found out she was pregnant, it seemed he needed her more, not less. There’d been a few slips—like when he bought the house. But he was a man, after all, and according to Alex they needed special allowances. She said even Hank slipped up now and then. Overall, Claire was very pleased with her husband. She loved him, needed him more every day.
Need. She’d used that word a lot lately. She always thought she wanted independence, but now she knew that wasn’t true. What she wanted was to be needed.
She realized that all the times she’d blown up because Jake made a decision without her, it wasn’t because she wanted independence, but because she wanted him to need her in order to make the decision. She wanted him to need her as much as Hank needed Alex. Being included in decisions was just an outward sign of being needed, of being loved.
With a sigh, Claire glanced back at the computer waiting patiently for her to review this year’s tax records. Why waste the time? Jim had already assured her everything was in line, and she’d yet to catch a single mistake made by one of her employees.
They didn’t need her here—but the clients at Whitaker’s needed her.
So why not talk to Jake? There were more advantages to going back than just having a job she loved. She could probably talk Mr. Whitaker into letting her take only as many clients as she did or didn’t want, so she’d have more time to spend with their baby. Jake should approve of that.
And since they wouldn’t be working together, she’d at least have the illusion of independence. Having her husband for a boss was all right for now, but what about when their marriage started rocking over shaky ground, as all marriages do?
No, going back to work for Whitaker would be best all around. Now she just had to see if Mr. Whitaker would be willing to take her back, after she’d left without giving notice.
Stepping back to her desk, Claire reached for the phone, then changed her mind. It’d be better to pay her old boss a visit instead.
She grabbed her coat and purse and headed out the door. “Mrs. Hamby, I’m taking the afternoon off.”
The secretary looked surprised, then she smiled. “Good for you, Mrs. Anderson. You go home and get some rest. We’ll still be here tomorrow.”
Claire smiled knowing she might not be. “When my husband comes to pick me up this afternoon, please tell him I took a cab home.”
“You don’t want me to call him now?”
“No, he’d just worry. Tell him I’m fine and I’ll meet him at home for supper.” With a wave, she walked out the door.
Claire yawned as she fit her key into the penthouse door. She’d had a wonderful visit with Mr. Whitaker. He’d all but begged her to come back, and even suggested—with a wink—that she not give her husband any notice.
Claire wasn’t going to go that far. She’d stay as long as Jake needed her, but it shouldn’t be long. Jim Gordon could take over tomorrow with no more trouble than replacing the nameplate on her desk.
She pushed open the heavy panel and reached down to pick up her shopping bag. She’d even had time to buy some maternity clothes. She didn’t need them now. She’d just been in the mood. The best thing about them was—they weren’t suits.
As she headed for the bedroom, Mrs. Sanchez hurried out of the kitchen.
“Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Anderson. I thought I’d left the door open and another one of the ladies just walked in.”
“Ladies?” Claire asked. “What ladies?”
“The ladies Mr. Anderson is interviewing.”
Claire stopped cold, along with her heart. “Interviewing? Jake is home?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s been home all afternoon.”
“I see.” What a stupid thing to say. She didn’t ‘see’ anything. “Do you know why he’s interviewing ladies here?”
A worried look stole across Mrs. Sanchez’s face. “Why, for a nanny. For the baby. I thought you knew.”
The shopping bag dropped from Claire’s numb fingers. Her purse quickly followed. “No, I didn’t. Is...” She tried to swallow the brick caught in her throat. “Is my husband in the study?”
“Yes, Mrs. Anderson. Oh, dear. I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, Mrs. Sanchez.” Claire tried to place a hand on the woman’s arm, but her dead limbs wouldn’t obey her brain’s commands. “It’s all right. You can go on back to the kitchen now.”
Mrs. Sanchez left, casting uncertain looks over her shoulder. But Claire was too stunned and hurt to care about reassuring her again.
A nanny. He was hiring a nanny.
Unable to believe he could be so callous just days after he’d sworn to consult her before he made any decisions, she woodenly put one foot in front of the other and slowly walked down the hall to the study. The door was open.
The words that floated out confirmed his guilt. Each question he asked the applicant drove another knife into Claire’s heart.
Once again, without saying a word to her, he was taking away her right to choose, ripping away her freedom.
How could he do this to her? Didn’t he know what hiring a nanny without telling her would do to her?
She knew the answer to those questions before they finished echoing in her mind.
Of course he knew. She’d let him know in no uncertain terms how she felt about being excluded from these decisions. He knew exactly what he was doing in that office. He just didn’t care.
Pain engulfed her in drowning waves.
He didn’t need her. With his money, he could replace anything or anyone in his life. At that very moment he was replacing her.
Jacob Anderson could buy anything he wanted. He’d bought a broodmare for his child. Now he was buying a caregiver. He was taking her baby away from her as surely as if he were ripping it from her arms.
Claire leaned against the wall, afraid her knees were about to buckle.
Why? How could he throw her love away?
Disposable. That’s what he’d been to his father, his fiancée, his friends. Now everything in Jake’s life was disposable. Even love. He’d been thrown away so many times, it was all he knew how to do.
He probably thought she would throw him away, too, eventually. He didn’t trust her love, so he was making certain his child would remain his by hiring the caregiver himself.
Eli Anderson had taught his son well.
Poor Jake. He would never know true happiness.
But then, he would probably never realize it.
Tears stung Claire’s eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to go into the study and tell Jake exactly what she thought about his deceit.
She straightened from the wall, then shook her head. What was the point? How many times had they had this discussion? He hadn’t learned anything so far. Why would today be any different?
Blindly she stumbled toward the door and walked out of the penthouse. Out of his life. She wasn’t about to let him take her baby. Her child was all she had left.
When Jake walked the nanny to the door, he cast a puzzled glance at the shopping bag on the floor in the foyer. After letting the woman out, he turned and froze.
Next to the shopping bag lay Claire’s purse.
His heart leaped into his throat. What in God’s name had happened?
“Mrs. Sanchez!” He bent and picked up her purse, then sprinted to the bedroom. Was she sick? Did she need him? Why hadn’t she come into the study and told—
He skidded to a halt in the middle of their empty bedroom. Suddenly he knew. She had come to the study—while he was interviewing the nanny.
He threw her purse onto the bed and stabbed his fingers back through his hair, his heart racing like a greyhound in the home stretch.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
It wasn’t even five o’clock yet. What was she doing home so early? In the month they’d been married, she’d never left the office before six—and that only when he dragged her out. He’d counted on her staying put at the office. That’s why he’d conducted the interviews here.
“Mr. Anderson?” Mrs. Sanchez appeared in the door. “You called?”
“My wife was here, wasn’t she?”
Mrs. Sanchez wrung her hands. “Yes, sir. She got upset when she heard you were interviewing nannies. I’m sorry, sir. I thought she knew.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Sanchez. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“Is she gone, then, sir?”
His heart stopped dead in his chest.
She’s gone, son. Take it like a man.
Like hell.
He wasn’t going to let her run away from him. Okay, he’d made yet another mistake. It wasn’t the first, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
She loved him. He knew she did. So why couldn’t she trust him? Why couldn’t she believe he loved her and only had her best interest—