shoot.”
He didn’t exactly ask a question, but I answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“That is Elise,” he said. “Everything has to look right. No hair out of place and no knock-off designer clothes or accessories. She works hard to maintain her reputation as one of the Beverly Hills elite. Jonathan is just one more accessory, something to wear on her arm so people won’t think poorly of her. If she loved him, truly loved him, she wouldn’t have left him to shack up with some beach-dwelling gigolo.”
So it was true. Still… it was absolutely none of my business (and certainly not in my job description) to shield them from one another. “I don’t know her, and I really don’t know you. But I do know it’s tearing Jonathan up to be in the middle of all this. I’ll do what I can to help,” I promised. “But I refuse to be a pawn used between you and your ex-wife. Please don’t put me in that position again.”
“Noted,” he clipped. “Goodnight, Miss Dennehy.” I could tell by his tone that the boundaries had been fully reestablished.
“Goodnight, Mr. Fullerton,” I said. I hung up the phone and back to my book. I reread the same page five times before I finally gave up, turned out the light and tried to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Jonathan was an endless ball of energy as we shopped at the local market for dinner. “What’s next on the list?” he asked.
“Lemme see,” I said as I perused the shopping list. “We have the ground meat and the rice. We just need the green beans and garlic.”
“I got it!” he exclaimed as he rushed off toward the produce section. I followed with a smile. As he put handfuls of fresh green beans into a bag, I stopped to look at the bright yellow bananas. “How do you feel about banana pudding?” I asked as I picked up a bunch of perfectly ripe fruit.
“Don’t know,” he said as he brought the bag of green beans to our cart. “I’ve never had it.”
I gasped in mock shock. “Well, we have to fix that, pronto. Add to the list,” I said as I handed him the pad and a pen. “Bananas. Pudding mix. Vanilla wafers. And whip ping cream.”
He nodded as he complied. I grabbed a beautiful spring bouquet of pink Gerbera daisies along with pink and red roses. We finished our shopping and Harrison drove us back to the house by four o’clock in the afternoon.
By six, when Drew was due to arrive, Jonathan put the finishing touches on the meal while I arranged the bouquet in a beautiful crystal vase on the large mahogany table in the formal dining room. Jonathan brought the salad to the table. He looked so cute in Cleo’s apron I had to smile. “It looks amazing,” I praised. “I guess I better run up to my room and dress for the occasion.”
He glanced over my jeans and sleeveless cotton top. “You look fine to me,” he said.
I grinned as I mussed his hair. “I look like the help.”
“You are the help,” he retorted with a teasing smirk.
“Don’t rub it in,” I said as I knelt down to eye level. “And, as a matter of fact, I’m not officially hired yet. So I should probably go change into something more professional to impress you dad and seal the deal.”
Something foreboding crossed over Jonathan’s face. “Don’t try too hard to impress him,” he warned softly. “It never works out. For anyone.”
He turned and headed back into the kitchen, leaving me speechless from his remark.
What a sad little boy , I thought again as I ascended the grand staircase. He had the whole world at his tiny fingertips and yet he still ached with an unfulfilled yearning. It just proved, once again, money could not fill the void of love and emotional security.
The self-described prison in which he lived was just a helluva lot nicer than the modest dwellings in which most of us lived.
Twenty minutes later I descended the stairs in a pale green flared skirt and a white cotton blouse. I pulled my hair back into a professional bun and kept any makeup I might
He didn’t exactly ask a question, but I answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“That is Elise,” he said. “Everything has to look right. No hair out of place and no knock-off designer clothes or accessories. She works hard to maintain her reputation as one of the Beverly Hills elite. Jonathan is just one more accessory, something to wear on her arm so people won’t think poorly of her. If she loved him, truly loved him, she wouldn’t have left him to shack up with some beach-dwelling gigolo.”
So it was true. Still… it was absolutely none of my business (and certainly not in my job description) to shield them from one another. “I don’t know her, and I really don’t know you. But I do know it’s tearing Jonathan up to be in the middle of all this. I’ll do what I can to help,” I promised. “But I refuse to be a pawn used between you and your ex-wife. Please don’t put me in that position again.”
“Noted,” he clipped. “Goodnight, Miss Dennehy.” I could tell by his tone that the boundaries had been fully reestablished.
“Goodnight, Mr. Fullerton,” I said. I hung up the phone and back to my book. I reread the same page five times before I finally gave up, turned out the light and tried to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Jonathan was an endless ball of energy as we shopped at the local market for dinner. “What’s next on the list?” he asked.
“Lemme see,” I said as I perused the shopping list. “We have the ground meat and the rice. We just need the green beans and garlic.”
“I got it!” he exclaimed as he rushed off toward the produce section. I followed with a smile. As he put handfuls of fresh green beans into a bag, I stopped to look at the bright yellow bananas. “How do you feel about banana pudding?” I asked as I picked up a bunch of perfectly ripe fruit.
“Don’t know,” he said as he brought the bag of green beans to our cart. “I’ve never had it.”
I gasped in mock shock. “Well, we have to fix that, pronto. Add to the list,” I said as I handed him the pad and a pen. “Bananas. Pudding mix. Vanilla wafers. And whip ping cream.”
He nodded as he complied. I grabbed a beautiful spring bouquet of pink Gerbera daisies along with pink and red roses. We finished our shopping and Harrison drove us back to the house by four o’clock in the afternoon.
By six, when Drew was due to arrive, Jonathan put the finishing touches on the meal while I arranged the bouquet in a beautiful crystal vase on the large mahogany table in the formal dining room. Jonathan brought the salad to the table. He looked so cute in Cleo’s apron I had to smile. “It looks amazing,” I praised. “I guess I better run up to my room and dress for the occasion.”
He glanced over my jeans and sleeveless cotton top. “You look fine to me,” he said.
I grinned as I mussed his hair. “I look like the help.”
“You are the help,” he retorted with a teasing smirk.
“Don’t rub it in,” I said as I knelt down to eye level. “And, as a matter of fact, I’m not officially hired yet. So I should probably go change into something more professional to impress you dad and seal the deal.”
Something foreboding crossed over Jonathan’s face. “Don’t try too hard to impress him,” he warned softly. “It never works out. For anyone.”
He turned and headed back into the kitchen, leaving me speechless from his remark.
What a sad little boy , I thought again as I ascended the grand staircase. He had the whole world at his tiny fingertips and yet he still ached with an unfulfilled yearning. It just proved, once again, money could not fill the void of love and emotional security.
The self-described prison in which he lived was just a helluva lot nicer than the modest dwellings in which most of us lived.
Twenty minutes later I descended the stairs in a pale green flared skirt and a white cotton blouse. I pulled my hair back into a professional bun and kept any makeup I might
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