Fallen Woman

Chapter 7

I didn't see Jase the rest of the weekend. I also didn't talk to him because he didn't have my phone number. I didn't have a cell phone and never handed out my house number unless I was applying for a job. When Monday rolled around, I wasn't anticipating he would make an appearance, although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wished he would. All weekend, my thoughts kept returning to him holding my sweet Emmy, the way he tucked her into my bed. His goodbye replayed over and over in my head. It wasn't anything significant, but for the first time in my life, I had a friend. It didn't matter if I wanted more; I'd settle for what he'd offer, and the kiss on my cheek before he left would last me quite some time.

Standing in the mailroom of the Faston Corporation, in the most comfortable flats I owned, I was shocked when hands landed on my waist, and his sultry voice whispered in my ear. "I need a favor."

I turned in his hands, finding his beautiful face, and noticed a scar above his right eye. I wondered how it got there. Without thinking, I reached up to touch it and grazed my thumb over the marred skin.

"College war wound," he announced, returning my focus to his eyes. "So about that favor."

I shook the cobwebs from my head and gave him a gentle smile. "Of course. What's up?"

"There's this charity banquet this Friday, and I need a partner to tag along." I analyzed every word as he spoke them and was cognizant of the fact he did not say date. "I have to go and don't want to do it alone. Please."

"I don't know, Jase. I don't have anything to wear." That wasn't exactly true. I had tons of gowns, but every woman in attendance at any charity event would know just how dated they were, and I didn't want to embarrass him.

"I knew you'd say that. So, how about we go at lunch and get you a dress." He wiggled his eyebrows, thinking he was enticing me into some fantastic shopping soirée.

Totally deflated, my eyes cast to the ground. "I'm sorry. I don't have the extra money for something like that. I wish I could help you."

"My treat and I won't take no for an answer." His voice was unusually upbeat. I wanted to accept, but pride stood in the way. He tilted my head up with his fingers under my chin. "It would mean a lot if you'd let me do this. It's more of a help to me. I hate going to these things, and it'd be nice to have a friend to make the evening fun." He dropped his hands and started to back away. He winked at me and said, "I'll be back at noon," then stuck his fingers in his ears to stifle my protest and left the mailroom. I shook my head in disbelief, wondering if he'd picked that trick up from Trace.

"Did Jase Lane just ask you out on a date?" one of the older ladies in the mailroom questioned me with wonderstruck eyes.

"No, it's not like that at all. He doesn't want to go to some charity thing alone." I waved her off as though it meant nothing because I had to convince myself it didn't. He didn't ask a girl he was interested in on a date; he asked his buddy to keep him company.

"Sweetheart, I've worked here for ten years, and not one time have I ever seen him in the mailroom, and to my knowledge, he always goes stag...by choice. Don't fool yourself into thinking he just needs an escort." She picked up the plastic mail bin and walked away.

Promptly at twelve, Jase strolled into my workspace. He told my boss I might be late returning and pulled me by the hand out the door.

"You can't just tell my boss I might be late coming back from lunch, Jase. I can't afford to lose this job." I was miffed but not quite irritated.

"Sure I can. What's he going to do?"

"Fire me."

"He won't fire you." He scoffed as though I'd said something funny.

"Last time I checked, if I didn't do my job, my boss most certainly could fire me."

"Not when you're with one of the managing partners of the company. He'd be a fool, and I'd fire him."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Wait. What? But you're not a Faston."

He stood there, staring at me like I was the i***t. "No, but my mother was-is. Maiden name. Her maiden name was Faston. She married my dad and became a Lane. So yes, technically, I'm a Faston, and don't ever let my grandfather hear you say differently, or I won't be able to prevent him from firing you." He laughed a deep, guttural rumble.

"So you like...own the Faston Corporation?" I stuttered through my disbelief.

"Technically no, because it's now a publicly-traded company, but I own a lot of stock and hold a position on the board. Did you not know?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Obviously not."

"Good." He took my hand and pulled me toward the door.

"How is that good?"

"I know you don't give a s**t about my money and are my friend because you like me...not because I can offer you anything."

"Is that what you thought?"

"Not really. I mean, I bugged the s**t out of you. You hardly threw yourself at me. But it's something I'm aware of, yes. Honestly, I think it's pretty cute you didn't have a clue who I was. It's endearing." He gave me one of his lazy, sexy grins that seemed to make the world fall away.

"It's embarrassing."

"Only if you let it be."

We hopped into his Mercedes and took off down the street to float through the shops on Main Street. I hadn't bothered to step foot in any of them. Our financial demise was sealed at the point Ryan went to jail. Shopping in those boutiques was like teasing a kid with candy to put all those beautiful clothes in front of me, knowing I couldn't have them.

I didn't know if Jase realized what he was in for. I wasn't interested in taking advantage of his generosity, but I wanted to feel every piece of fabric and touch every shoe and accessory. The colors were stunning, and I was a sucker for fashion. He looked while I touched, but I knew the instant he saw the dress he wanted me to wear. His eyes lit up, and the normally steel gray turned a slate blue. He caressed it like a woman he loved, and I prayed it looked as good on me as it did in his imagination.

The sales lady came to see if I'd like to try it on and went to the back to get one that would fit. She didn't ask my size-she was trained to know it. Once in the dressing room, I slipped on the heavy gown, and she zipped it up the side. The ruby-red beadwork shimmered as the light caught it when I moved. My thin arms looked perfectly toned in the tank straps, and when I turned to the side, the back was completely exposed.

"It would be a sin not to wear your hair up in this gown. Women pay thousands of dollars to look the way you do, and not letting that gorgeous man see your back would be a crime." She's paid to sell me the dress, but a part of me knew she was being honest, too.

The weight of the dress allowed me to go braless, displaying my perfect C-cups and my lean shoulders in the dropped neckline. The fabric hung on every inch of me like it was designed around my body and added the illusion of another two inches to my already five-foot-eight frame.

"Wait right here," she said as she raced out of the dressing room. A few minutes later, she returned with stunning chandelier earrings, a delicate drop necklace, and gold heels I might consider giving up my firstborn to own. She added them to the ensemble, and when I stepped into the slingbacks, she pulled my hair up in a quick chignon to give me the overall picture. "Stunning." And she was right. I was blown away. I missed this girl. The one with the confidence to take on the world.

There was a light knock on the door. "Are you going to let me see it?" Jase spoke through the wood, muffling his voice.

The salesgirl shook her head and whispered, "Make him wait."

I liked her style and agreed. "You'll see it Friday night," I called back and began undressing. The price tag caught on my panties. I stopped to release myself from its hold and about gagged. This dress would pay my bills for months, not to mention the added expense of the jewelry and shoes. My mood plummeted as I thought about what I could do for Emmy with that money. "Do you have anything a little less expensive?"

"Honey, he brought you here to buy a dress. This is the dress he wants you to wear. Let him do this for you, and don't mention the cost." I couldn't tell if that was the salesperson in her or another woman saying, "You deserve this." I wanted to argue but knew I'd lose with both her and Jase. So instead, I nodded and returned to the clothes I came here in.

"So you're going to make me wait, huh?" Humor shone brightly in his eyes, and I knew the anticipation would do him good.

"A little wait never hurt anyone." I winked at him and carried the purchases to the register. I didn't know where this confident girl came from, but I'd missed the hell out of her. After placing my things on the counter, I wandered off to allow Jase to pay without my knowing the total. The protocol for this type of thing escaped my knowledge, and it made me uncomfortable.

"Let me feed you and get you back to work," he said as he draped an arm around my waist.

"You don't have to do that. I need to get back anyhow."

"What did you bring for lunch?" He eyed me suspiciously.

There was no point in lying-I sucked at it. So I just shrugged. I didn't know why women did that-the obligatory shrug. It didn't even mean anything, but we all did it, and men expected it.

"Exactly. So...lunch it is."

He put my stuff in his car, and we had lunch at a little deli not far from the office. I kept it simple with a salad, and he ate like three starving men. I couldn't help but laugh. "When was the last time you ate?"

He answered with a mouth full of food. "This morning, why?" His brow furrowed with confusion.

"Do you always eat like this?"

He was so cute; he fisted the sandwich with both hands, chewing an enormous bite.

"I'm a growing boy." The smirk he offered melted another piece of my heart. He was genuinely endearing. I adored the way the scar above his eye crinkled when he smiled. Nothing about this man was pretentious or fake, and I loved that about him.

I watched him consume three subs and wash them down with two bottles of water. I didn't have a clue where he put it, but he seemed satisfied when he dropped me off in the mailroom with my co-workers.

"Not a date, huh? That man is smitten." The older woman offered her opinion as she waltzed off. I made a mental note to learn her name and grinned at her back.