Em Shepherd ducked her head and tried to focus on the collage on her desk, but the delicious argument happening in the conference room kept drawing her attention. Who was the man who'd arrived to see Summer Welles?
It was none of her business, of course, except that Summer was a friend and had never mentioned any man in her life, other than a stepbrother. But Em couldn't help herself. She was curious.
The most obvious choice was a client. Orson & Tomlin was a law firm, after all-they had a steady stream of affluent people flow in and out. As the receptionist, Em met all of them.
Only Summer didn't usually greet any of her clients with a peck on the cheek. He couldn't be her stepbrother. Stepbrothers were never that hot.
Maybe he was her boyfriend? Summer hadn't mentioned dating anyone, but they also hadn't gotten together in a long time. He was definitely pretty to look at. Lovely if not completely inappropriate for Em since she already had someone who was perfect for her.
She knew that most women wanted the excitement of champagne and silk. Not Em. She'd seen what passion and sexual urges got a woman, and she wanted none of that. She'd seen what had happened to her mother. Give her bland and boring for the rest of her life.
Like Ben Cooke.
Just thinking about him gave her a warm feeling, like being wrapped in flannel pajamas and drinking hot chocolate from a mug with a cat on it.
She looked down at her collage. She'd never gone to university-she hadn't had the money-but she'd read a lot, and somewhere she'd read that people who visualized their dreams achieved them more consistently. Writing down her goals never felt right, but she loved cutting out pictures and making a collage.
On the poster board, she'd pasted a modest, white house with an iron gate. In the bottom half, there were two children-a boy and a girl-building a sand castle on a beach. She'd added the picture of a car that was big enough to take the kids to school, and another of a bank to symbolize the savings account she wanted to have for her children's tuition. Floating in the top left corner was a picture of a man.
She'd tried to find one that'd looked like Ben-the more specific you were, the better the odds that you'd attain your goals. She'd looked in gardening magazines, but all gardeners (except Ben) appeared to be bearded men in overalls. The picture she'd finally settled on was close enough-was more blond than brunette, more tailored than casual, but he looked wholesome and loyal.
"That's okay," she assured herself, running a finger over the photo. Gardening was her least favorite thing about Ben. She went and helped him on the weekends, to get to know him better, even though she hated it. It left dirt under her nails, even when she wore gloves. But she had to keep her eye on the prize: Ben.
The voices escalated in the conference room. Well-the man's voice. She heard the words deceive and insane and was about to move closer to see if she could hear more when the company phone rang. Sighing, she answered it and forwarded the caller to the appropriate person as quickly as possible.
As she set the phone down and started to scoot her chair closer to the conference room, Summer and her guest emerged. Em noted Summer's satisfied grin, but the man didn't look especially happy.
Maybe he was a client. As the receptionist for a law firm, Em had to deal with a lot of unhappy people. She didn't like it. If she didn't have her one-year plan in motion, she'd have left this job and gone to work in a candy shop. Everyone was happy in a candy shop.
But soon she wouldn't have a job, because she'd be Mrs. Ben Cooke, and then she'd have children to care for.
She sighed happily at the image that created.
