Love Found Me (A City Love Novel, Book 1) (7 page)

Soon she would know just how her life turned on a dime with career as the focal point. Danielle would have to face the reality that work wouldn't be the sole of her existence anymore.

Suddenly, her eyes trickled only smeared mascara as the sky domed a gentle luster to her hair. At that moment, she was awakened by a tingle that calmed and silenced the fury of nerves that provoked her.

She reached for a small box near the foot of her desk and tussled the papers in it aside. Barely a moment later, her hand shuddered the box to its side. Everything she'd just jammed into it, rolled to a scanty mound.

A blend of potting soil and fertilizer leaked inside a watering can, and a wet violet suckling vintage terra cotta sprung from its saucer. Jutting a matching set of turn of the century Zen-statues and hurling an oriental tea set off kilter.

With increased focus, the husky man sighted Danielle's palms shellacking file folders and sifting what appeared an infinite mountain of paperwork. As her pores trickled sweat, she could barely squirm the leather without going unnoticed. Just then, she tucked a folder into the box, brushing her hand against a feathery velvet petal. And then the very next moment, he shouldered past Roman with his mechanized pace rising toward her.

Before she could slip her hand from the box, the man all but rushed over quicker than a heartbeat, as he stood shadowing her eyes. "Ma'am, all the files are property of Finch Young." As he spoke, a permanent crease in his forehead framed his piranha face. His heavy bearded jaw line was grizzled and inexplicably pale.

He stood woodenly as a soldier intensely focused on her every move. His eyes narrowed as he grimaced a gesture toward the desk, "They stay here. I have orders that all files and paperwork remain here."

She'd barely had time to grab her new pair of pointy-toed black slingbacks and a few other knick-knacks. The second she ladled a handful of ergonomic stress balls atop the file cabinet, the slender man ordered, "Miss, you have to exit the building.
Now
."

The brashness took a turn for the worse when he shrieked, "Now!" His brusque shook a sudden tremor in her hand and sent the stress balls tumbling over her boot, wedged in a gap between the wall and the cabinet's footing.

Danielle twisted her torso as she fumbled over the last bit of decor stashed in a corner cubbyhole. Suddenly, both of the security men bolted closer within arms reach and turned a uniformly scornful expression.

"We have orders that you are no longer allowed on the premises," said the men. The words were brash and sharp as they gestured her to follow in heed of their warning.

Jackasses
. She muttered, bracing herself on the desk.

Danielle stood, rooted to the carpet behind the mammoth desk at the "L" shaped juncture. She'd already dared to discount their presence entirely, or so she thought. They watched her try to slip a ten-year plaque into her handbag, but it didn't quite fit. She was barely aware that none of the company accolades mattered anymore when she poised herself one last time to sift it all to memory.

The two men whispered words floating, just as she ripped a Cézanne calendar off the wall. Roman's eyes met hers in the brief second before she'd left the office, and he mouthed, "Later." She nodded.

She'd barely had a moment to catch a breath, as both men shadowed behind her out of the office. A light breeze feathered Roman's hair as both she and the two men dashed past him to the corridor.

Then quickly a crowd closed in, and the questions began. "Danielle what's going on--" a man spoke, stunned by the two men shadowing her.

But she could only shake her head, as the rest of her body continued to tremble. "What does it look like Josh, I'm--" Before she could get a word in edgewise, the men shouldered her onward with over ten years of a career in one box--sized up to swell the contents of four modest shoeboxes.

She'd just realized her value was idealistic and shallow. Years of spirited dedication meant nothing in her vain attempt to reconcile what mattered most. She could only tear through the tenacity to move on.

Josh stopped cold in his tracks. His jaw-dropped into a blank stare, as he watched the spectacle from around a hall corner.

Josh Beckham, the bright-eyed enigma who'd been her colleague ever since interning at Finch over ten years ago. He'd always been the quizzical one around the office that kept everyone laughing. The one who'd tone down the seriousness and follow every joke up his sleeve with a "no pun intended." He was a jokester but when it came to management, he ran the audit team like a well-oiled machine.

Josh's wired spectacles followed her trail as the three headed toward the elevators. He'd been stunned by the sudden raucous diverting his attention when Roman sprinted toward him, towering over the crowd.

Roman shimmied and twisted through the crowd pouring into the hall. He flung his arms to part his way through, as half the office had come out en masse. A throng of worried faces and watchful eyes cupping piping hot java, as "caffeine central" was the epitome of the forty-first floor office.

As Roman bolted down the hall harrowing Josh into a tailspin, he'd sprinted back toward the conference room to find Finch. The instant Josh turned his head, there wasn't a sole at the elevators, but Roman had already rounded a corner vaporizing into the maze of corridor.

"Do you guys know what this is all about," Josh asked a small crowd hovering in a corner alcove, as he slid his glasses to the ridge of his nose.

"She's been fired," said a woman who emerged from the crowd. Josh was looking at the woman quizzically."

Amanda, what are you doing spying out here?"

"It's all around the office...haven't you heard?" Amanda's saucer-shaped blue eyes widened, but her voice was calm as she said, "Danielle's been accused of embezzlement, fraud, corruption...you name it," she explained quietly and straightened.

From the rumors they'd heard, no one was surprised to learn the scandalous meltdown would shatter Danielle's career to collapse. And Zeckler was more than motivated to stir the volcano that had already quaked the office.

Amanda Zeckler was Danielle's adversary. Always the showiest and most backstabbing and ruthless gossip around that more than proved she could swing with the gentleman. She had her ways of moving to the top, with her bottle-ginger highlighting her auburn hair artfully swooped over one cheek, and full lips painting a tantalizing tart crimson.

She wore a scarlet shantung suit that shellacked the roundness of her curves, and the slim skirt sported a slit at the side to the middle of her shapely thigh. This was not the first time she'd sported her outrageously sky-high glittering stilettos either, that boosted her eye-to-eye with clients.

But Danielle never resorted to the disgusting lengths Amanda had the audacity to defy in order to make a living. Unfortunately, Amanda envied Danielle's success, zest and rebel determination. Suddenly, this woman had amazingly increased her status in the office as
Director of New Accounts and Client Discovery
. Whatever that was--surely meant that she'd have an excuse to hobnob with the elite and frequently married prospects.

Holding her by the arm, Josh waded right in. "So, what's the word on Danielle's job?" he asked, needing confirmation.

"There's word that Finch's second pick's up for it," Amanda said, but again stopped short of the question.

"And who might that be?" Josh rallied.

"Beckham," she said. "I'm pretty sure it's you Josh. But, we'll know in a few days." Smoothing a crease from her sleeve, "That figures. Finch finally came to his senses." Amanda's lips swept her grin into an audacious smirk. She poised a hand to her hip and waved a phantom goodbye with the other.
Good riddance
.

Glancing over the crowd, Josh wondered what had become of the lanky young man who nearly shuddered his spectacles.

A few seconds after Roman bolted down the hall toward the boardroom, the door flung open, "What's the meaning of this?" Roman said, as Finch looked up and yawned from his doodling.

Finch sloped in his chair, threading his fingers behind his head saying, "Procedure--just procedure. We've got to follow protocol," he insisted. Finch swiveled toward the empty seats, despite Roman's outburst.

"That's it. That's all you have to say for yourself. You can simply move on after what just happened?" Roman's sharp eyes skewered Finch again, as Finch's crinkly stare braced listlessly for the inevitable.

Finch gazed up at Roman's towering profile in silent answer with a half-lidded expression and yawned again before saying, "Listen. If you're going to work for me, you're going to have to roll with the big boys and stop playing it soft."

Roman's eyes daggered as Finch spirited his resolve.

Suddenly, Finch gave the table a pat, and then he stared at his watch. His impassive eyes narrowed, as he paused on a buoyant note.

"Now, for the next order of business."

Chapter Five

The weather defied its familiar February bleakness. Shattering leafless trees and spiny shrubs. Coursing thick dark emeralds, silvery evergreens and shiny bronzes.

Danielle navigated midday's tangled web through a sea of yellow cabs and brazen pedestrians, with the breeze curling the hairs on the back of her neck. Along with something that still had her twitching her toes in her anklet boots. A resolve and spirited determination to right the wrongs--heed her mistakes--and live life differently.

As she meandered the streets in a keyed up huff, sirens sang rhapsody to horns blaring in a sea of urban sprawl and frenzy, quickening the rise of a sprawling metropolis. The more she'd kept moving, the more she'd kept herself from playing into that mind game of nerves--and the more she'd kept herself from focusing on what had just happened.

But why shouldn't she let her hair down. She'd worked way too hard for too many years to allow embarrassment to strangle her senses into a searing panic. Why shouldn't she enjoy a little unemployment bliss in the making?

Stretching her arms from the core, as she walked, she forced herself to unclench her jaw, rolling her shoulders as she pounded the pavement. Her shoulders were hunched and her back stiffened with every step of her walk skirting past vented grates and foot traffic. But with every step, she'd found her muscles steadily loosening.

Maybe it was the cold whipping a quiver up the long pleat in her wool overcoat that simmered her nerves into a reposed blend of calm and humiliation. But the air felt good, like heavy burdens lifted off her shoulders. By the time she'd gotten far enough, she wasn't shaking anymore, as pure golden sunlight melted the hazy gloom of morning into baby blue sky. The city was a stirred calm. 

Danielle spent the afternoon in unemployment bliss. Sashaying down to Fifth Avenue's Museum Mile and to the Upper East Side corner ice cream parlor. It was a haven for sweet-a-holics. The guy behind the counter remembered her from months ago. It wasn't often she'd taken the time to enjoy her favorite scooped a concoction of butterscotch, peanut butter and strawberry maple walnut oozing decadent hot fudge.

This was when she'd realized she hadn't simply taken the pleasure of doing what she wanted, when she wanted. Despite her fury at Finch, she didn't want to wrestle her mind about it. He'd given her reason to finally sever the hold--the reason she'd come to New York City. But now she'd had to revisit that conversation with herself.

Danielle, there is more to life than your career. Love is what you've been denying yourself for far too long. Love can find you, if you keep an open mind to find it. 

It had taken her firing to convince herself that actually there was more to life that she'd been missing behind a desk and mountains of paperwork. Danielle stared at the guy squirting another smooth creamy layer of whipped cream. Her eyes were in a trance following his hand as he'd circled her huge sundae until it domed a tower with a sweet cherry on top.

She shook her head, and her eyes lit as she murmured, God, that looks so delicious.

Suddenly, she was starting to shatter the temptation to drudge up the memory, as her expression had changed from a heated upset to absolute purely sated pleasure. Amazingly, she was rallying a zest for "Freeeedom!" She shouted a silent scream at the top of her lungs that tore anxiety and worry for blissful moments. After all,
Freedom
, she thought, was something career never allowed time for.

She savored every sumptuous meltdown and silent moment of brain freeze. With every luscious taste,
Omigod, this is so delicious
--she closed her eyes to evoke memories of calm, sand and breeze. As sweet icy foam trickled her tongue to quiver once it kissed mountains of whipped cream, she was in heaven.

But there wasn't any room for one of those tantalizing and crisply sautéed almond butter prosciutto and melted brie sandwiches. Danielle was still in the habit of insidious consumption.

Food filled the void, and shopping filled the desire for reward. After all the hell and back pitfalls of corporate life, heck--employment as a whole had been just that--a means to supply what never seemed to end--bills, payments, taxes.

She'd beat down the pavement at Finch. She'd made sacrifices. Heck, she'd had absolutely no love life, in exchange for a career that was sucking her bone dry. Starting at seven or eight most mornings, hustling twelve or even fourteen-hour days. Often weekends if need be.

Her demanding, tightly organized schedule allowed no time for a social life.

It wasn't natural. For a woman in her prime, it just wasn't natural to spend more than half of her life chained to her office. When would she have awakened from the mirage and stood in front of the mirror and faced her naked self. She was born with a desire to love and be loved. But, love couldn't electrify a woman caught in a ceaseless maze of bureaucracy.

Afterwards, Danielle zigzagged the maze of traffic when suddenly her heart flip-flopped in her chest. Without warning, the pulsing evened out and she began to pick up speed. Lots of speed, when she'd noticed the old neighborhood. Not just any neighborhood--Her ex fiancé's neighborhood.

Visually, it hadn't changed much in the last few years--Rows of regal brownstones, tree-lined streets, and quaint courtyards ample for raising a family. It was a haven for women in their thirties and forties, who traded career to be full-time moms, simply because they could afford to.

Realizing that it had been too long since she had seen the facade of the brownstone she and her ex shared just after their engagement, Danielle sighed. Her expression was sentimental.

It seemed like ages ago, when Danielle thought she knew what love was. When in fact, she didn't really know love at all. A thirty-year old woman's clock was ticking, and Jack was the first steady guy in her life that she'd managed to find, apart from her workaholic life.

Well, actually they found each other through a business meeting. Her firm was battling negotiations with a prospective client -- his high-profile litigation firm--and the rest was history. Although, sometimes she'd wondered if he was more interested in her upwardly mobile status, feeling threatened by her success, rather than the love she brought to their relationship. Maybe he'd wanted a sexy doormat, but common sense said--he should've known Danielle better than that.

Suddenly, her eyes darted to the sounds of languid cries lacing a nearby garden. As she waddled closer, the spirited zest of children layered a laugh that infused her memory with fantasy.

Her hands were moist with sweat as she turned her attention to a young mother hugging her child. No matter how difficult it had been to watch while Danielle explored the world as a single woman, she wouldn't have traded marriage with a man who couldn't and didn't love her for the sake of motherhood.

Unfortunately, her four-inch suede had begun to take its toll on her flesh. She took a quick shallow breath the moment she'd felt her toes pinching the pointy hollow. It was days like this she'd regretted not wearing her two-and-a-half-inch kitten heels.

Immense shadowy oaks filtered sun between its spiny winter canopies. Danielle swung her leg back to the hem of her skirt, gently massaging her tender toes through the supple suede, as she balanced herself on the other foot. Her eyes closed for a moment as she released a heavy groan.

It was almost a relief, as she targeted a park bench a few yards away. Danielle's slender toes squirmed the pointy suede, as she gingerly tiptoed her way through the minefield of strollers and mothers nursing their infants.
What's wrong with me? When will I find someone to love me?

Danielle still thought that no social life heaved an immense burden. Pushing thirty. Heck, she'd already pushed into thirty, and she wasn't getting any younger. Time was click-click-clicking. And she hadn't even spent one night since her engagement over two years ago with anyone but--numero uno.

On the rare occasions, she'd been finagled into a date--she'd drawn nothing but "Loser." Those guys layered low on her threshold of ample, most times backed by a mutual parting. No one-night-stands or guys lusting for only one thing. She didn't practice wanton magnetism nor would she begin to.

And lately, she'd been sulking about it. It seemed like she'd magnetized every couple's city love. Couples huddling. Couples hugging. Couples straddling each other in their arms, licking wet, juicy kisses, having a delicious time of it.

Before she'd even realized she was standing central to an enclave of babymony, she stiffened. It was like being back home again. With the memories of living everyone else's dream, but her own.

Although some people couldn't understand why she wasn't married and already on baby number three, Danielle had the natural tenacity and nerves to pacify her own heart. She wasn't the idealistic woman who'd imagined herself the rebel in anything but career.

Danielle was hiding from unpleasant memories only she could face in the mirror. Only she could form a modest desire for the unfamiliar illusion of family versus six-figures.

She was still standing in a patch of pure yellow sunlight pouring around the end unit town homes. Her gold metallic earrings were warm to her touch. She sprung toward an empty bench next to one of the mothers. She thought to herself,
could she be so lucky?

Danielle smiled at the commitment and dedication as the woman rocked her baby in her arms. "Billy, his name's Billy," said the woman with a phone in her hand. Danielle was awe-struck by that rock of a diamond on her finger, as each second the sun seemed to ray its clarity another level of glimmer above stunning.

"So how's motherhood?" Danielle asked the woman, tucking her phone carefully into her purse as the sun glittered her sharp nails a fiery ginger replicating her hair.

After a moment, the woman swaddled Billy and gestured to Danielle, "Want to hold him."  

"I don't know if I should," Danielle said, as the woman cupped her arms leaning Billy closer. Maternal instinct took over, as the baby gently drifted his eyes closed in Danielle's arms. A few moments later he made a bawling,
eh eh
noise.

Danielle pacified the baby only moments before he had a chance to leak or ooze drool onto her designer tweed. As the woman cradled Billy back to the stroller she said, "I've got to get back, cause my husband, Jack likes his dinner--"

"Jack?" Danielle interrupted.

"Yes. My husband's name is Jack."

"Do you mind if I ask." Danielle paused to take a deep breath before saying, "When you were married?"

The woman all but leapt at the chance to answer. "Sure. We were married about two years ago." She mouthed the number without so much as a pause. Knowing all she had was a man that gave her a family, but had she known at what cost.

Danielle raised an eyebrow and said, "Two years ago?"

She'd recalled that was just about the time her Jack called off the engagement, which meant if this was the same "Jack," he had been involved with another woman. She realized this was right at the cornerstone of a game-changing decision when she'd accepted an executive-level promotion; things became unsteady in her love life, while her career was taking off.

Danielle's eyes widened.
It couldn't be. She couldn't be
.

At that moment, Danielle realized the overpowering scent of a rustic countryside infused the woman's collar like freshly mowed-grass. She knew instantly. The fragrance feathered the same earthy spice that Jack doused himself with every day and night.

"Mrs. Jack Cantor," the woman replied.

Danielle stared at the leggy woman with the thought that she'd been so stupidly betrayed. Her brain wanted to kick up a huff about it. She was mad. Only the truth was, she was starting to believe--the woman could have him for all she'd cared. It wasn't a lost. Matter of fact, it was her gain to find the right man--Mr. Right--to take Jack's place in her life.

Although, there was still the point of it all... She'd still have to deal with those feelings gnawing at her soul, surfacing an impact on her emotions.

She is
. "Oh, I mean..." Danielle stuttered as she wrung her hands, catching another glimpse of her huge diamond. "You are...you're Jack's wife and this is his son," she added, nodding toward Billy in the stroller.

The instant Danielle realized this was her "Jack," she knew why he'd run out on her. The other woman was runway model, supermodel with legs like a giraffe, and the perfect voraciously pouted lips and bosom that would incite any man's curiosity.

Danielle ran both hands through her hair frantically trying to restart the conversation, as the woman crossed her skin-tight mini skirt showing off an angle of her curvy thigh. Only this time, the breeze blew her fiery ginger away from her face just enough that her diamond earrings popped against her light freckles. Evidently Jack spent most of his money lavishing her with expensive gifts. Danielle could only imagine he'd do anything to keep a woman like her happy.

"Ah..." was the one word that came out of Danielle's mouth which might as well have been silence.

Danielle contemplated, that what she'd just discovered would explain Jack's erratic behavior and how he'd gotten as far as "I don't love you," when he walked out the door. She was all too glad to pack her bags and leave where she wasn't wanted. Amazingly, he found time for another woman, when he hadn't always the time for her.