Crimson Footprints Part 9

"Who cares where? Anywhere. Everywhere. The going is what's important." He leaned against her desk again.

"Now the way I figure it, my dad gives two weeks of vacation for every year of employment. Now, considering what I know about you, that you've been here three years and that you've probably never used a day; that gives us eight weeks of vacation time to play with. Who knows where we could go with that?"

Deena lowered her gaze.

She was considering it. She could hardly believe it, but she was considering it. The woman whose life was charted out on an Excel Spreadsheet t.i.tled 'Expectations,' the woman whose Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of each week had been nearly identical for the last three years, was considering it.

How had he done that to her? How had he penetrated her life so thoroughly, that she would consider throwing her hands in the air and following him blindly round the country?

But the thought of it made her s.h.i.+ver. She wanted to. G.o.d knows she wanted to.

"But-I have a new project. What about Skylife?" Deena said. "I can't skip out on that. I mean, we haven't started or anything yet but..."

His father had given an opportunity, singling her out among the hundred or so architects that worked for him, pegging her to collaborate on a project with him. She was the youngest at the firm, and after that day, the most loathed.

Tak waved a hand. "Dad's in Prague. He left yesterday. From there it's Tokyo for two weeks, then London for another two. Gives you at least a month until he comes looking for you, probably more." He paused. "I could get an estimated start date if it'll make you feel better."

"But I've got other stuff..." Deena said lamely, glancing at her desk.

Tak sighed. "You've got a wheelchair ramp for K-Mart. I know you, Deena. You can have the concrete specs out for that in fifteen minutes."

Deena smiled. It was her misfortune to find a man whose mind didn't wander when she yammered about her work. "Well, there are channels. It takes forever to get approved for time off here. If I put in now I might get cleared in six months."

"Let me worry about that. Being the boss' son must come with some perks. You just make plans to leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

He smiled slyly.

"Tomorrow, Deena Hammond. Handle the concrete specs today. And tomorrow," he winked. "Belongs to me."

He left with a bounce in his step, oblivious to her sharp intake of breath.

Tak bounded the stairs two at a time, always keen for exercise, as he ascended to the top floor, his father's. Broad and winding, the staircase gleamed with white marble and wrought iron banisters. At each landing was the Tanaka logo, his father's pompously grand signature etched in gold, with a transparent globe of the same color in the background. The earth signified his global approach to architecture and the signature, which omitted his first name, stemmed from his conviction that a Tanaka would always be at the helm of his firm.

The thirteenth floor belonged to Daichi and his secretary of fifteen years, Angela. Heavy gla.s.s doors etched with the company logo glided open to meet Tak when he reached the floor. He conjured up his most charming grin and crossed the bright white lobby to Angela's desk.

She looked up and smiled at the sight of the boy she'd watched become a man over the years.

"You must want something, Tak.u.mi. That smile is far too big."

Tak leaned on her desk, a hand on several of his father's files.

"You've done something new with your hair, Angela. Looks great. Glamorous, even."

She grinned. "Now I know you want something. Out with it, por favor."

Though she'd worked for Daichi Tanaka for fifteen years, and knew that he and his sons were fluent in Spanish, she wouldn't have dared used it with her boss.

Tak shook his head. "I'm so disappointed. I came to see you. I just...needed a little suns.h.i.+ne in my day."

Casually, he picked up a manila folder, only to have it s.n.a.t.c.hed away.

"Que? You want me on the unemployment line?"

Tak rolled his eyes.

"Right. My dad would sooner get rid of me than you."

He watched her organize the files he'd skewed.

"Listen," he said finally. "I need a favor."

She didn't look up. "A favor?"

"Yeah."

He glanced behind him, as if worried his father would show up.

"Su padres en Prague," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know." He leaned forward.

"There's a girl who works here. I need you to clear her for vacation."

Angela's mouth dropped. "I knew it!"

Tak tried not to smile.

"You knew what?"

"You and your 'oh I just had to see you. You just brighten my day."

She came around the desk and folded bronzed arms, a lock of auburn hair slipping into her eyes.

"Who is it?"

Tak grinned. "Deena Hammond."

"Deena Hammond. You say her name like that in front of your father?"

"You kidding me? He doesn't even know I know her."

Her face went serious. Angela returned to her desk, hands trembling as she sorted paperwork for filing.

Tak watched her.

"What? What did I do?"

"Go away, Tak.u.mi."

"Go away? Why?"

She shook her head. "Because I said so."

Angela went to work filing her stacks. When she looked up, she found him still standing there.

"I can't get between you and your father. The job market isn't good, and anyway, I'm too old to start over."

"I'm just asking for a few days off, days that she's already earned. Paid."

"Paid!"

"Come on! You can do it. You can do anything. Dad says so all the time."

"You went too far, Tak.u.mi."

"Sorry."

Angela dashed the hair from her eyes and sighed at the hopeful expression on his young face. As a boy, he'd worn that same expression sitting outside his father's office as he begged for pizza instead of sus.h.i.+ for lunch. And as a teen, he wore it when he needed help getting a dent out of his new Mustang before his father was any the wiser. And now, as he needed her to bend company rules for a girl, he wore it one more time.

Angela sighed. "How many days?"

Tak lowered his gaze. "A month."

"A month!"

"Angela, come on. She has two. Go ahead and put it through."

"No one's ever been approved for a month at a time. No one."

"Please," he clasped hands in desperation.

With a groan, Angela turned to her pc, usurping the human resources department as she went to Deena's file.

"Well, she's never taken a sick day. Just bereavement."

Tak came around her desk for a closer look and Angela jabbed the monitor's off b.u.t.ton. "Jesus! Estas loco?"

"Well you're sitting here reading it to me! What's the difference?"

"I'm not reading it to you, Tak.u.mi, I'm thinking out loud."

She scowled at him until he retreated, then turned the monitor back on.

"I'll give you two days."

"Two days! I need a month."

This was why he didn't belong in corporate America. He needed to be free to roam, at will.

"Well you're in here at the last minute. There are people who have been waiting for months-"

"Come on. We don't care about them. It's me. Why're you going on about a bunch of strangers, anyway?" He gave her his most doleful expression.

"I'll owe you," he promised.

"You have nothing I want!"

"Well when I get something it's yours." Tak leaned against a desk. "Please, Angela? I'm crazy about her."

That was the other thing. She was a sucker for love. Married for thirty-two years, the mother of four children, the daughter of a couple together for sixty. She devoured romance novels and soap operas and thrived on the love affairs of celebrities. She was always, always disappointed when love didn't work out.

Tak smiled, knowing he'd baited his fish.

"The first time I touched her there was this, this awareness I've never felt." He exhaled nosily.

Her eyes widened. "And you met her here? At the office?"

Tak shook his head. He knew this next part would send her over the top. He had to be careful though, as the truth was sensational enough. Any embellishment would make it implausible.

"She saved my life. We were strangers and she saved my life."

Angela gasped. "Someone tried to kill you?"

He nodded.

"Father in heaven!" She made the sign of the cross. "Pull up a chair and tell me everything. I'll put in for her vacation time."

"Well, I think you should go, Deena."

Rhonda s.h.i.+fted to adjust the slim black phone wedged between her shoulder and ear and waited for her niece's protests.

"You can't be serious. I'd be gone a month. I don't even know where I'm going. What if Grandma needs me? What if Lizzie needs me?"

Rhonda thought about her niece Lizzie, the lost and promiscuous soul who would be unwilling to accept help from her sister even if she did need it.

"They'll just have to manage."

"Grandma doesn't want me to go. She says she might need me for something."

Rhonda sighed. "And what about what you need?"

Deena laughed. "I don't even know what I need."

"No? Well, I'd start with this vacation." Rhonda gave a tired sigh. "Sweetheart, listen. You're twenty-five and you live like a nun. You work, come home and spend all your free time trying to please everyone else. There's got to be more to your life."

Rhonda stood, folded her arms, and crossed the length of her s.p.a.cious master bedroom. With a lean on the windowsill, she gave her lover, stretched out on the broad and accommodating platform bed a wink. Black lace on soft curves made her irresistible.