Husband from 9 to 5 Page 6

  Though it was only a quarter till twelve, Jack realized that leaving wasn’t such a bad idea. Bringing her here hadn’t exactly been a mistake. It was an experiment that had to be tried, but it hadn’t worked. Now he had to get Molly out of here before she said something to somebody. Cutting out early for lunch was only the beginning.

  Caught up in praying Molly stayed quiet, Jack didn’t give any consideration to whether or not anyone noticed them departing together. He pushed the down button on the elevator, and stood beside Molly who was unexpectedly demure. Given this moment of peace and tranquillity to reflect, Jack concluded that though Molly hadn’t regained her memory, he could at least be thankful that she hadn’t embarrassed them, either.

  Even as he thought the last, Jack shifted to the right and saw Mr. Barrington striding toward them. Mercifully, the elevator bell rang and the doors whooshed open. Jack shoved Molly into the elevator and jumped in after her, but his sigh of relief was cut off when Rex Barrington called, “Hold that for me, would you, Jack?”

  Damn! Jack’s finger teetered above the Close Door button, but in the end his common sense won. Molly hadn’t embarrassed him up to now. She appeared to be preoccupied with work. And it truly was bad form to ignore a request from the man who paid your salary. Slowly, but resignedly, Jack’s finger moved to the Open Door button. He held it in until Mr. Barrington had entered, then he released it and the door whooshed closed.

  “So, congratulations on that layout the other day,” Rex Barrington said, glancing from Molly to Jack. His conventional black suit was stiff and formal and he wore his gray hair in a no-nonsense traditional style. But his green eyes sparkled with fatherly warmth. “Just got there under the wire, I hear.”

  “Yes, we did,” Jack said, characteristically proud of his department. “I have a great team.”

  “You certainly do.”

  “Jack’s very loyal to his staff,” Molly put in with a laugh. “Always giving them the credit when he deserves most of it.”

  “That’s about fifty percent true, Molly,” Mr. Barrington corrected good-naturedly. “A department head is only as good as the staff he supervises. Besides, one of the people to whom Jack typically gives most of the credit is you.”

  Molly laughed again. “Is that so?” she asked, and the conversation was so normal, so much like any other conversation they’d held in the past that Jack didn’t even feel the other shoe falling until it landed on his head, when Molly said, “I suppose it’s to be expected that a man would say good things about his...”

  Knowing that Molly was about to say “wife,” Jack almost panicked and pasted his hand across her mouth, but he didn’t. Instead, he quickly interrupted, saying, “Right-hand person. It’s to be expected that a man would say good things about his right-hand person. And Molly is certainly that.” Jack continued, knowing he was now babbling, but he was not about to give Molly another chance to talk. At least not to Mr. Barrington. It was one thing to hope speaking with her peers would jog her memory. It was quite another to let her chatter with the company president.

  Luckily the elevator reached the ground floor. When the doors opened, Mr. Barrington motioned for Molly to exit before him and she smiled graciously at him. “You know,” she said, glancing back at Mr. Barrington. “We’ve never had you over for dinner.”

  “No,” Mr. Barrington said, confused. “You haven’t.”

  Again not giving himself time to panic, Jack took Molly by the shoulders and turned her to the right. “Molly, there’s the first-floor ladies’ room. You probably want to powder your nose before we leave for the restaurant.”

  As if obeying him were second nature, Molly nodded. “Okay. Be back in a minute. And I mean that about dinner, Mr. Barrington. I’ll arrange something with your secretary.”

  The second he was sure Molly couldn’t hear him, Jack pivoted to face Rex Barrington. “Our department goes out to dinner about once a month, or we have nights out like we had this Wednesday,” he explained quickly. “To celebrate our success, everyone from the department went to Mahoney’s. I bought a few pizzas and a couple pitchers of beer and we kicked back a bit.”

  “Ah, now it’s starting to fall into place for me,” Mr. Barrington said slyly. “Now I understand why you have the most dependable employees in the company, and why they work so hard for you. I’d like to see one of these gatherings.”

  “And like Molly said, we’d love to have you.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Barrington said, then glanced at his watch as if checking if the conversation with Jack had made him late. “I sincerely do want Molly to let my secretary know the next time your department’s planning something. I’ll be there.”

  Jack smiled and nodded, watching the whole time as Mr. Barrington exited the building and walked to where his Mercedes waited immediately beyond the doors. Once the car began pulling away, he collapsed against the wall.

  “I think you should take another afternoon off.”

  Molly’s gaze swung up from her chefs salad. “I told you I’m two weeks behind with those demographics.”

  “But you’re looking a little pale,” Jack argued carefully. “Remember. Dr. Tim said you can’t overdo it.”

  “Lord, you’d think I was pregnant or something.”

  Jack’s eyes widened with horror. That was a rumor he wouldn’t so easily squelch. “You’re not, are you?”

  “No, silly,” she said, laughing. “You’d be the first person to know if I was.”

  Jack gave himself a moment to let his pulse and blood pressure lower. As interesting as her imagination was, it wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d conjured a pregnancy, a few kids or even a dog. Thank God, she hadn’t. When he was calm again, he was more convinced than ever that he needed to keep her out of the office until she got her memory back—her real memory.

  “You know,” he said, pretending preoccupation with his salad so she wouldn’t guess that he was trying to manipulate her. “Having our friends over the other night caused me to think that it really is time to get a few new things for the house.”

  Molly smiled at him. “We have plenty of time. I’m sure our friends understand that we can’t decorate a whole house in six weeks.”

  “No, but it would have been nice to have decent curtains in the living room.”

  “You mean window treatments,” Molly said, her eyes shining with anticipation.

  “Is that the same thing as curtains?”

  “A little fancier,” Molly said, then she grimaced. “And probably a little more expensive.”

  “Molly, we don’t have to worry about money,” Jack said, but he caught his slip, and realized that he’d been playing along so well and for so long that he was falling into this role as if he were made for it. He shook his head as if to bring himself back to reality, but to Molly he said, “Take some time, measure the windows, figure out what matches the carpeting, do whatever it is people do to make their windows beautiful, then go buy what you need.”

  “Oh, that sounds great but I have that—”

  “Whatever it is, it can wait,” Jack said urgently. He saw Sophia walking to the cashier to pay her lunch bill, and even as he did he was struck with the idea that he didn’t want Molly out in the city by herself. “Could you excuse me for a minute?”

  “Sure,” Molly said absently and focused on her salad again.

  “Sophia,” Jack called, trying to get her attention before she left the cashier.

  She turned and smiled at him. “Hey, Jack. What are you doing here?”

  “Molly and I are having lunch.”

  Sophia leaned around Jack to get a peek at Molly, and she winced. “Still thinks you’re married, doesn’t she?”

  “And planning a family.”

  “Yikes.”

  “We had a close call with Mr. Barrington this morning. I can’t take her back,” Jack explained, hoping against hope Sophia could help him. “I told her she could buy new drapes for our—my—living room. She actually seems to want to do th
at more than study her new demographics.” He paused, drew in a short breath. “But I can’t let her go alone....”

  “Give me your credit card and say no more,” Sophia said, holding her palm up. “But you have to explain to the people in personnel why I’m taking the afternoon off.”

  “I’ll tell them I sent you on a special Barrington project,” Jack said and handed her his credit card.

  Sophia glanced down at the shiny platinum card. “What’s the credit limit on this?”

  “Higher than your yearly salary.”

  “I think Molly and I are going to have a wonderful afternoon.”

  Jack didn’t have any doubt about that, but a few minutes later as he watched Sophia escort Molly out of the restaurant while he paid their lunch bill, he privately acknowledged that losing a few hundred dollars to drapes didn’t bother him. He now had an entire afternoon in which to get some work done. He didn’t have to worry about what Molly would say and to whom she’d say it. And tomorrow was Saturday, so he didn’t have to make up an excuse for why he couldn’t take Molly to work. They could spend the whole day at home without him having to answer one question as to why.

  Smiling, he stepped out into the warmth of early-afternoon sunshine, but as quickly as his smile appeared, it faded. Tomorrow was Saturday. And they could spend the whole day at home. They could spend the whole weekend at home.

  Two long, quiet, intimate days with a woman who thought they were married and kissed him as if they’d been lovers for years.

  He wasn’t going to survive this.

  Chapter Six

  Jack knew that Molly would probably be able to laugh about this whole mess when she got her memory back, as long as nothing “happened” between them. So to get out of being in the same bed with her that night, he once again used the excuse that Dr. Tim didn’t want them sleeping together.

  But that reasoning brought out yet another dimension to this problem. As he lay awake on his old, worn-out sofa Friday night, Jack suddenly realized that the longer this went on, the greater likelihood that Molly would be embarrassed unless he kept things as simple as possible.

  Preoccupied as he was with worry over Molly, Jack didn’t fall asleep until after two, and he wasn’t surprised that she woke before him on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, because he was asleep and not prepared for the assault on his senses, he again jumped with alarm at the unexpected kisses on the back of his neck. And again, before he thought about what he was doing, he sprang over the back of the couch to get out of her reach.

  “Jack, what is wrong with you?” she asked dejectedly.

  “I...uh...I was...having a nightmare,” he said, relieved when he came up with something that would appease her without hurting her feelings. He’d never been in such a quandary before. This was not the kind of predicament safe, comfortable, harmless Jack Cavanaugh got himself into. This was the kind of messy dilemma Dr. Tim landed in.

  “Well, come here,” she soothed. “I’ll help you forget about it.”

  He wasn’t even going to risk asking how she planned to help him forget about it. Instead, having been awake long enough to get his brain working, he quickly changed the subject. “Actually, Mol,” he said, not even noticing he’d given her a nickname. “Lying on that lumpy sofa last night, I decided that since you’ve chosen drapes...”

  “Window treatments,” Molly happily corrected.

  “Window treatments,” he conceded with a nod, “for this room, it would probably also be a good idea to get some new furniture. Maybe even something nice like that tapestry stuff you have in your living room.”

  As if considering his suggestion, Molly pursed her lips and glanced around, but as she did, her eyes began to glaze over. Jack could only guess that while trying to draw on the memory of the living room furniture in her apartment she had hooked into reality and it was holding on to her. She looked as if she were halfway between here and the truth, and the truth was winning. Any second now, he expected her to tumble into the real world again.

  Waiting, hoping, Jack stood frozen, but she blinked, once, very, very slowly, and when she opened her eyes, all the confusion was gone. However, she put her hand to her forehead as if she were dizzy and said, “Yes, you’re right.”

  Deflated, almost annoyed, Jack’s shoulders hunched. He had seen—physically seen—that she was a gnat’s eyelash away from returning to the real world, and he mentally cursed himself because they were at his house instead of her apartment. From that ten-second episode, Jack knew with absolute certainty that if she’d been in familiar surroundings, she would have snapped back. Being so preoccupied with keeping her out of harm’s way, he’d forgotten that the office wasn’t the only familiar surrounding in her life. Jack could use her apartment and her car to try to bring Molly back from her dreamworld.

  “We’re going to your apartment,” he announced without preamble or explanation.

  “Now?” Molly asked, gaping at him as if he were crazy.

  “Right now,” Jack said, seeing from her glowing cheeks and clean clothes that she’d been up long enough to have showered and dressed. “If you want some breakfast, grab it while I shower.”

  He started out of the room, but Molly caught his arm. “Why are we going to my apartment?”

  “For decorating ideas,” Jack said, and almost laughed. The truth of the matter was he probably could get decorating ideas from her apartment, but to bring his story in line with an explanation she could understand, he added, “We’ll see what you have and make a list so we don’t end up buying something we don’t need.”

  If you can’t convince them, confuse them, Jack thought as he jogged up the steps, leaving Molly standing in the living room puzzling over that. This new course of action gave him a burst of energy and he showered and dressed quickly, not wanting to lose his momentum—or hers.

  In the car he said, “You remember that you fell Wednesday night?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, we had been at Mahoney’s because our entire department was celebrating getting an advertising layout in on time.”

  She nodded again.

  So far so good.

  “Because you hit your head when you fell, I wouldn’t let you drive, which means your car is still at Mahoney’s. So we’re going to go to Mahoney’s now to get it.”

  “Okay.”

  “You do feel up to driving, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Jack,” she said, laughing. “I’m fine. I’m sure even Dr. Tim would say I was fine. It’s sweet that you’re taking such good care of me. But it’s not necessary.”

  Because it was Saturday morning, there were no cars parked around Molly’s Lexus. It sat alone, deserted, in the parking lot for the restaurant/bar.

  “There it is,” Jack announced, and held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

  For a few seconds she stared at her car, then, sighing heavily, she faced him. “This was poor planning on our part. We should have picked up my car on the way home.”

  Having parked his Blazer, Jack slumped over the steering wheel. “Why?”

  “Because now we’ll have to take two vehicles shopping.”

  He stared at her. It seemed impossible that she could think through the more complex issues of their problem, yet normal, average things eluded her.

  “We’ll leave your car at your apartment,” he said, satisfied that he’d found a way to stay one step ahead of her.

  “Okay,” she said blithely, brushed a kiss across his cheek and jumped out of his Blazer.

  Jack watched in amazement as she retrieved her keys from her purse, pressed the button to deactivate her car alarm and hopped inside her Lexus as if nothing were amiss. Confused, but still far too concerned with Molly’s welfare to push things too far, he opened his window and said, “Follow me to your apartment.”

  She nodded happily.

  Jack drove out onto the street again and hoped he genuinely would lead her home as he guided her to her real residence.

  Using her k
ey, he let her into her apartment and waited expectantly beside the front door. But she merely breezed by her nubby taupe sofa and black tapestry chairs as if they were nothing special. Then he looked on in amazement as she gathered more clothes from her bedroom, rubbing her face against soft sweaters as if they were long-lost friends, but seemingly not having any concrete understanding of why she’d missed them.

  The brain, he concluded, was an unbelievable mystery. Molly remembered where her clothes were, she remembered to find a pencil to create their furniture shopping list, but she hadn’t yet figured out that they weren’t truly married.

  “Okay, that’s it,” she said, stashing her notebook in her purse. “Most of this stuff isn’t going to fit the decor of the house,” she said, indicating her own furniture, and Jack was eternally grateful for that. When she finally snapped back into reality again, he’d hate to have her living room set in his home. “So we’re going to have to start from scratch.”

  “I don’t mind,” Jack said, initially to placate her, but he realized that he literally didn’t mind. First, his house did need to be decorated. Second, Molly had the good taste and decorating sense to do it. Third, he suddenly understood that all he had to do when Molly regained her memory was explain that they’d spent their time furnishing his empty house. Not only would she know she hadn’t done anything stupid, but she’d see she’d spent her time productively and even helped him.

  If that didn’t ease her conscience and soothe her ego, nothing would.

  “It’s too purple.”

  “No, it’s not. This couch is wine. And it would contrast nicely with the white carpeting and next to the cherrywood furniture of the dining room.”

  Jack eyed the one-color, nonskid leather sofa skeptically. He had to admit he liked it. He really liked it But they’d already purchased a homey, overstuffed floral grouping for his family room, complete with end tables with ceramic tile tops to lessen—if not completely eliminate—damage from eating while viewing TV. They’d bought lamps, chosen area rugs and picked out pictures. In a matter of four hours Molly had made the purchases that would transform his nondescript house into a home. If they didn’t soon stop, Jack wouldn’t be able to go into one room of his house without thinking of Molly.