Ready for Marriage. Debbie Macomber

Ready for Marriage - Debbie Macomber


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the economy, new construction starts had been way down. Jack, Rich and Lonny had collected unemployment benefits most of the winter and were just scraping by now. Bill and Mark’s automotive business was barely on its feet.

      She was the one who’d gone to Evan for help, and she was the one who’d accepted the financial responsibility. When she’d told her parents she’d be working for Evan, they were both delighted. Her mother seemed to think it was the perfect solution. Whether Evan had planned it this way or not, his employing her had helped smooth her father’s ruffled feathers about Evan’s fee. Apparently, letting her pick up any out-of-pocket expenses was unacceptable to Norman Summerhill, but an exchange of services, so to speak, was fine.

      Evan, who could do no wrong as far as her parents were concerned, came out of this smelling like a rose, to use one of her dad’s favorite expressions.

      Mary Jo wondered if she was being unfair to assume that Evan was looking for vengeance, for a means of making her life miserable. Perhaps she’d misjudged him.

      Perhaps. But she sincerely doubted it.

      “I’m taking my lunch now,” Mrs. Sterling said, pulling open the bottom drawer of her desk and taking out her handbag. She hesitated. “You will be all right here by yourself, won’t you?”

      “Of course.” Mary Jo made an effort to sound infinitely confident, even if she wasn’t. Evan’s legal assistant, Peter McNichols, was on vacation for the next couple of weeks, so she’d be dealing with Evan entirely on her own.

      Mary Jo wasn’t sure she was emotionally prepared for that just yet. The shaky, unsure feeling in the pit of her stomach reminded her of the first time she’d stood in front of a classroom filled with five-year-olds.

      No sooner had Mrs. Sterling left when Evan summoned Mary Jo. Grabbing a pen and pad, she hurried into his office, determined to be the best substitute secretary he could have hired.

      “Sit down,” he instructed in a brisk, businesslike tone.

      Mary Jo complied, sitting on the very edge of the chair, her back ramrod-straight, her shoulders stiff.

      He reached for a small, well-worn black book and flipped through the flimsy pages, scrutinizing the names. Mary Jo realized it had to be the typical bachelor’s infamous “black book.” She knew he had a reputation, after all, as one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors. Every six months or so, gossip columns speculated on Evan Dryden’s current love interest. A little black book was exactly what she expected of him.

      “Order a dozen red roses to be sent to Catherine Moore,” he said, and rattled off the address. Mary Jo immediately recognized it as being in a prestigious neighborhood. “Suggest we meet for lunch on the twenty-fifth. Around twelve-thirty.” He mentioned one of Boston’s most elegant restaurants. “Have you got that?” he asked.

      “I’ll see to it immediately,” Mary Jo said crisply, revealing none of her feelings. Evan had done this on purpose. He was having her arrange a lunch date with one of his many conquests in order to humiliate her, to teach her a lesson. It was his way of telling her that he’d recovered completely from their short-lived romance. There were any number of women who would welcome his attentions.

      Well, Mary Jo got the message, loud and clear. She stood, ready to return to her desk.

      “There’s more,” Evan said.

      Mary Jo sat back down and was barely able to keep up with him as he listed name after name, followed by phone number and address. Each woman was to receive a dozen red roses and an invitation to lunch, with time and place suggested.

      When he’d finished, Mary Jo counted six names, each conjuring up a statuesque beauty. No doubt every one of them could run circles around her in looks, talent and, most important, social position.

      Mary Jo didn’t realize one man could find that many places to eat with so many different women, but she wisely kept her opinion to herself. If he was hoping she’d give him the satisfaction of a response, he was dead wrong.

      She’d just finished ordering the flowers when Damian Dryden stepped into the office.

      “Hello,” he said. His eyes widened with surprise at finding her sitting at Mrs. Sterling’s desk.

      Mary Jo stood and extended her hand. “I’m Mary Jo Summerhill. We met briefly last week.” She didn’t mention the one other time she’d been introduced to Damian, certain he wouldn’t remember.

      It was well over three years ago. Evan and Mary Jo had been sailing, and they’d run into Damian at the marina. Her first impression of Evan’s older brother was that of a shrewd businessman. Damian had seemed stiff and somewhat distant. He’d shown little interest in their cheerful commentary on sailing and the weather. From conversations she’d previously had with Evan regarding his brother, she’d learned he was a serious and hardworking lawyer, and that was certainly how he’d struck her—as someone with no time for fun or frivolity. Currently, he was a Superior Court judge, but he often stopped in at the family law firm. Apparently the two brothers were close friends, as well as brothers.

      The man she’d met on the dock that day and the one who stood before her now might have been two entirely different men. Damian remained serious and hardworking, but he was more relaxed now, more apt to smile. Mary Jo was convinced that marriage and fatherhood had made the difference, and she was genuinely happy for him and for Jessica. They seemed perfect for each other.

      “You’re working for the firm now?” Damian asked.

      “Mrs. Sterling will be traveling in Europe this summer,” Mary Jo explained, “and Evan, uh, offered me the job.” Which was a polite way of saying he’d coerced her into accepting the position.

      “But I thought—” Damian stopped abruptly, then grinned. “Is Evan in?”

      “Yes. I’ll tell him you’re here.” She reached for the intercom switch and announced Damian, who walked directly into Evan’s office.

      Mary Jo was acquainting herself with the filing system when she heard Evan burst out laughing. It really wasn’t fair to assume it had something to do with her, but she couldn’t help believing that was the case.

      Damian left a couple of minutes later, smiling. He paused in front of Mary Jo’s desk. “Don’t let him give you a hard time,” he said pleasantly. “My wife mentioned having you over for lunch last week, but she didn’t say you’d accepted a position with the firm.”

      “I…I didn’t know it myself at the time,” Mary Jo mumbled. She hadn’t actually agreed to the job until much later, after she’d spent a few days sorting through her limited options.

      “I see. Well, it’s good to have you on board, Mary Jo. If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to talk to Evan. And if he does give you a hard time, just let me know and I’ll straighten him out.”

      “Thank you,” she said, and meant it. Although she couldn’t very well see herself complaining to one brother about the other….

      She decided to change her attitude about the whole situation. She’d forget about Evan’s probable motives and, instead, start looking at the positive side of this opportunity. She’d be able to help her parents now, without dipping into her own savings. Things could definitely be worse.

      Mary Jo didn’t learn just how much worse until Wednesday—the first day she was working on her own. Mrs. Sterling had spent the first two days of the week acquainting Mary Jo with office procedures and the filing system. She’d updated her on Evan’s current cases, and Mary Jo felt reasonably confident she could handle whatever came up.

      He called her into his office around eleven. “I need the William Jenkins file.”

      “I’ll have it for you right away,” she assured him. Mary Jo returned to the outer office and the filing cabinet, and sorted through the colored tabs. She located three clients named Jenkins, none of whom was William. Her heart started to pound with dread as she hurried to another filing


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