Read Online Seven Nights to Forever by Evangeline Collins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Evangeline Collins
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entire day with a pen in hand but a nice portion of the early afternoon in the warehouse.
As he rounded the desk, Decker busied himself extinguishing the candles stationed about the room. The office wasn’t impressive by any means. Hell, his dressing room was larger. Just enough space to hold a couple of chairs for visitors, a squat cabinet with more than a handful of scratches marring its surface, a tall bookshelf, his desk, and the brown leather couch, its cushions just on the comfortable side of lumpy. Everything in the room spoke of function over aesthetics. It was a place of business, not a showplace to impress, and James felt more at home here than he did at his town house.
He heard Decker’s footsteps behind him as he went out into the main room. A shelf filled with books, ledgers, and rolled-up maps took up one wall. File cabinets, each drawer bearing a little label identifying its contents, lined another wall with Decker’s desk just outside the door to James’s office, the surface neat and tidy, just like the efficient man.
After grabbing his dark coat and hat, Decker followed him out into the cool night, the scent of the Thames heavy in the damp air, and then James locked the main door and pocketed the key. What had once been a small shipping company was now a thriving enterprise, though one would not know it from the sight of it. His offices were housed in a large, plain, utilitarian warehouse. He had never bothered to relocate to a more fashionable part of town. He preferred to be closer to his business. He could not very well run it properly when he wasn’t apprised of the details. All it took was a few steps beyond his office door to verify the quality of the lace from Spain or to inspect the timbers from the Far East. In any case, he would rather do it himself than rely on another. It was the way he had learned to run the business when he had received it as a gift from his father, a reward of sorts, on the event of his marriage.
He bade Decker good evening and watched the young man’s retreating back turn the street corner, then James stopped in his tracks. Heaving a sigh, he turned on his heel and retraced his steps. His footsteps echoed on the bare floorboards as he passed through the main room. Weak moonlight seeped through the windows, providing little light. But he didn’t need it to reach his destination. He could close his eyes and find his way to his desk without grazing a chair or bumping his thigh on the edge of Decker’s desk.
He lit the candle in the plain pewter holder on the corner of his desk. The pool of golden light barely penetrated the darkness beyond his desk, but he didn’t bother lighting any of the other candles in the room. The leather chair creaked as he sat down. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to trick them into believing he hadn’t already spent too many hours reading. A useless effort if ever there was one. Giving it up as a lost cause, he took the document off the top of the stack on his left—the “need to do” pile, the “done” being the shorter one on his right—and picked up his pen.
It was so quiet he swore he could hear his pocket watch ticking in his waistcoat pocket. Decker could be working at his desk, the door to James’s office closed, and those little noises like a shuffle of feet or the flip of papers would not register in James’s mind. He didn’t know if it was the darkness backing the windows or the lateness of the hour or the fact that he knew Decker had gone home, but now even the smallest sound seemed amplified. Each little creak or flick announcing he was all alone.
Three completed pages had been added to the stack on the right when he realized he could not remember a word he had read. With a curse, he went back to the first page and tried to will himself to focus.
Unbidden, plump rose red lips, the edges turned up, materialized in his mind’s eye. Damnation, that smile had made him feel good. Just one had been enough to temporarily
As he rounded the desk, Decker busied himself extinguishing the candles stationed about the room. The office wasn’t impressive by any means. Hell, his dressing room was larger. Just enough space to hold a couple of chairs for visitors, a squat cabinet with more than a handful of scratches marring its surface, a tall bookshelf, his desk, and the brown leather couch, its cushions just on the comfortable side of lumpy. Everything in the room spoke of function over aesthetics. It was a place of business, not a showplace to impress, and James felt more at home here than he did at his town house.
He heard Decker’s footsteps behind him as he went out into the main room. A shelf filled with books, ledgers, and rolled-up maps took up one wall. File cabinets, each drawer bearing a little label identifying its contents, lined another wall with Decker’s desk just outside the door to James’s office, the surface neat and tidy, just like the efficient man.
After grabbing his dark coat and hat, Decker followed him out into the cool night, the scent of the Thames heavy in the damp air, and then James locked the main door and pocketed the key. What had once been a small shipping company was now a thriving enterprise, though one would not know it from the sight of it. His offices were housed in a large, plain, utilitarian warehouse. He had never bothered to relocate to a more fashionable part of town. He preferred to be closer to his business. He could not very well run it properly when he wasn’t apprised of the details. All it took was a few steps beyond his office door to verify the quality of the lace from Spain or to inspect the timbers from the Far East. In any case, he would rather do it himself than rely on another. It was the way he had learned to run the business when he had received it as a gift from his father, a reward of sorts, on the event of his marriage.
He bade Decker good evening and watched the young man’s retreating back turn the street corner, then James stopped in his tracks. Heaving a sigh, he turned on his heel and retraced his steps. His footsteps echoed on the bare floorboards as he passed through the main room. Weak moonlight seeped through the windows, providing little light. But he didn’t need it to reach his destination. He could close his eyes and find his way to his desk without grazing a chair or bumping his thigh on the edge of Decker’s desk.
He lit the candle in the plain pewter holder on the corner of his desk. The pool of golden light barely penetrated the darkness beyond his desk, but he didn’t bother lighting any of the other candles in the room. The leather chair creaked as he sat down. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to trick them into believing he hadn’t already spent too many hours reading. A useless effort if ever there was one. Giving it up as a lost cause, he took the document off the top of the stack on his left—the “need to do” pile, the “done” being the shorter one on his right—and picked up his pen.
It was so quiet he swore he could hear his pocket watch ticking in his waistcoat pocket. Decker could be working at his desk, the door to James’s office closed, and those little noises like a shuffle of feet or the flip of papers would not register in James’s mind. He didn’t know if it was the darkness backing the windows or the lateness of the hour or the fact that he knew Decker had gone home, but now even the smallest sound seemed amplified. Each little creak or flick announcing he was all alone.
Three completed pages had been added to the stack on the right when he realized he could not remember a word he had read. With a curse, he went back to the first page and tried to will himself to focus.
Unbidden, plump rose red lips, the edges turned up, materialized in his mind’s eye. Damnation, that smile had made him feel good. Just one had been enough to temporarily
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