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“Besides the plane and the yacht? I have a few cars, and you know about the homes. We should plan a trip down to Miami. We could take the yacht and then stay at my house. Would you like that?”
“How long would that take?”
“Figure a week at least for travel up and back. Then we need time to stay at my house in Miami. You’re going to love it.”
“Jordan, I can’t do that. I only have two weeks of vacation time. That would eat everything up.”
“Work for me then. I’ll give you three weeks vacation, and you can travel with me as my assistant. Then you don’t have to use your vacation time.”
“This again! I told you I would think about it, but with you keep bugging me, I’m leaning to a definite no.”
Jordan scowls at me, “You are not. You haven’t even given it much thought.”
“How could I with you nagging me. You’re worse than my mother. Now can we decide if we’re doing something today?”
“Fine, you want me to get my crew for the boat?”
“No, it’s such short notice.”
“That’s what I pay them for.”
“Still, no.”
We playfully argue back and forth until Jordan’s cell rings, and he walks away to answer it. I hear bits and pieces of his conversation about some deal that seems to be going bad.
“What do you mean they don’t want to include the building? That was part of the deal, not just the land. I want to take it down and rebuild it. We had a tentative deal; now they want to pull out at the eleventh hour?”
It doesn’t sound very good, and I notice that his face is getting red.
“I’m stopping in the office. Meet me there in fifteen. Okay, twenty at the latest. I want to go over this before the whole thing falls apart. Right. See you then.”
Jordan hangs up and looks at me, sheepishly, “I have to go downstairs. I had a handshake deal, and now the seller wants to nitpick. I need to straighten this out. I could be back up here in say, an hour. Unless you want to come with me.”
“I think I’d rather stay here and look through the library.”
“That’s perfect. I should be back before noon.”
He gives me a bruisingly, passionate kiss that leaves me weak in the knees before he steps into the elevator with a grim look on his face. As the doors close, I give him a smile. I hope that when he thinks about it, his spirits lift.
After he leaves, I head up the stairs to check out the books. He has tons of subjects in many different categories. I’m intrigued by the collection of first editions, and I carefully look through them. I can imagine the value of some of these, and I wonder why he hasn’t put them in some type of protective case.
I find a rolling ladder tucked into a small thin floor to ceiling door that has a hole in it for the track that it rides on. Popping open the door, I move the ladder along until it stops at the first shelf, and I climb to the top. Jordan has romance, western and historical books up here. I’m surprised that romance books would grace his shelves. I keep moving, using the shelves as a pulley until I get to the end of one side. So many books to choose from, but I decide not on romance, but a mystery.
The couches in the library area are so comfortable, and the book so good that I’m not aware that two hours have gone by without hearing from Jordan. I wonder what situation he ran into with the business deal that it’s taking him so long. I mean, how much can he do on a weekend when most places are closed until Monday?
I know I’m probably taking a chance of bothering him in his office, but I have two reasons for going. First, because I miss him even after the short time, he’s been gone, and second, I want to see the beauty of his workspace up close. I bet the pictures on his website didn’t do it justice.
I slip on a pair of flip flops and get in the elevator, pressing the forty-eight-floor button. The elevator whirls to life, and I feel the familiar stomach flutter when I’m in there as it descends. The door opens, and I was correct, the place is more stunning than the photos.
A large light wood reception desk sits in the lobby. Above it, the name “Grayson Enterprises” is written in a rich black script. Dark gray marble tile contrasts the space, and white leather couches on either side of the desk dominate the free walls. On either side of the lobby, thick glass walls and doors lead to the offices within. I head over to the right side door and pull at the thick brass handle, but the door is locked. A keycard machine has a red indicator light.
I peer through the door, and inside I can see a large open space with many desks and top of the line computers with monitors. Offices around the perimeter are glass-walled with the same heavy doors like the one I’m standing in front of. I head to the other side, and the door is also locked. I feel dejected; I wanted to see Jordan. As I walk away, I hear the door open, and I turn.
“Doll, you should have called me. I would have opened the door for you.”
“I wanted to surprise you. How did you know I was here?”
“Security called me and said some woman was nosing around.”
