All I Ask Read online

  Jesse, a lanky old man who smelled of smoke and dirt, came around the truck with a clipboard. “That should do ’er.”

  Reeve nodded and took the pen from his hands before scribbling his signature. “Thanks a lot. I’ll probably be back on Monday for another load.”

  “We’ll be here.” Jesse nodded toward the mound of black mulch. “Where’s all this headed?”

  “LAM Theaters’ corporate office.”

  “Is that right? That glass building out north?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I remember when old Mr. Phillips passed away several years back. Guess he left the company to his granddaughter.”

  “Oh yeah?” That surprised Reeve. He’d assumed a man owned the company. Stupid of him in this day and age, he figured. Oh well. “So far I’ve only spoken with an assistant. But I might be meeting her soon. They’ve got a tree that needs to come down on the side of the building.”

  “Well, that shouldn’t be any big deal.”

  “You wouldn’t think, but the way the tree has been mentioned a few times makes me think there’s some sort of attachment.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Ah well, you’ll just have to charm her, I reckon.”

  “Yeah, maybe so.” Although Reeve highly doubted that a woman who ran a huge company was susceptible to the charms of her landscaper. He didn’t bother saying that, though; just got in his truck with a wave and headed out.

  Halfway to the jobsite at the LAM office, Reeve yawned long and wide. It had been a brutal few days. They’d picked up two new commercial clients in the past week, and the hours had been long, prepping everything for the season. They were up and at ’em by six and sometimes Reeve wasn’t home until six or seven in the evening. Not a big deal since he preferred to stay busy, but he was ready for the weekend.

  Hard work wasn’t the only reason he’d been on edge all week. Every second his mind found a chance to wander, it went right to his night with—whoever the hell she was. At the time, her refusal to give her real identity had seemed a little annoying but irrelevant. He’d had his fair share of one-night stands. Who was he to judge if a woman wanted to get her kicks anonymously? Except now it pissed him off, especially since she’d sneaked out of his bed at some point in the middle of the night.

  He’d been pretty shocked to wake up and find that not only was she long gone, but he hadn’t heard a peep when she’d sneaked around his room. Reasoning told him it was because he’d been exhausted after cleaning his mother’s yard, two beers, and then trying—and failing—to pleasure her. But it wasn’t like him to sleep that soundly.

  It also didn’t escape his notice that he’d been the one doing the sneaking out many times over the years, and it did make him feel a little bad wondering if women had felt this way over him. It wasn’t a good feeling, this . . . abandonment. Being used. Because sure as shit, she had used him. Irony, karma, whatever the hell this was he was experiencing, it was a bitch.

  Memories of that night had haunted him all week. Things felt unfinished between them. Yeah, she’d finally had an orgasm, but damn, the way it had all gone down had not been ideal. The way she’d talked to him, and the look in her eyes as she’d finally come apart, had been some strange mix of vulnerable and controlling.

  The long and short of was, he wanted to see her again, and his inability to track the woman down pissed him off. Problem was, he was going to have to get over it because he had other matters to concern himself with.

  As he drove he decided instead to mentally calculate where business was for the year, something he found himself doing often. Evaluating how things were going in general; innovative ideas for networking and advertising. Innovative meaning low-cost, of course. He’d be happy if they could finalize a couple more commercial contracts.

  Residential accounts were great and they had plenty due to their great customers and word of mouth, but a good solid base of commercial clients could really change the game for Big Blue Landscaping.

  A few moments later he pulled into the long drive that led to the LAM office building. Today they had a crew of six, all of them working to finish up the two flower beds that lined the entrance to the parking lot.

  Reeve parked the truck on the side of the drive and got out just as Brad headed over.

  “I think this load will do it for today,” Brad said.

  Reeve nodded. “Good, I’m ready to get home.”

  Brad made his way to the tailgate. “This week has been tough. But if this season is any indicator, I think this will end up being our best year yet.”

  Reeve nodded his agreement, and an hour later the mulch had been dispersed and the crew was heading home after a quick meeting gathered around Reeve’s truck to discuss the day’s work, talk about what was up for Monday, and then say their good-byes. When the rest of the guys had driven off Reeve turned to Brad.

  “I’m gonna head up to the office so I can discuss this tree situation with the owner.”

  “Seems a little odd that there isn’t someone else dealing with this.”

  “Yeah, with a company this size I thought the same thing. The guy who contacted us, Daniel, has had to run every decision past the owner. Seems she’s very hands-on.”

  Brad’s brow scrunched. “Yeah, I sort of recall hearing that ownership had changed hands several years back. You were probably overseas then.”

  Reeve shrugged. “Let’s hope the boss doesn’t give me much trouble. The tree’s infested and diseased.”

  “Then that’s what you say to her. Lay it all out. You’re the expert.” Brad gave Reeve a mock salute as he got into his own truck and drove away.

  For some reason Reeve had a feeling this tree situation wasn’t going to be as simple as Brad implied. He walked up the through the parking lot and made his way to the side of the building. The tree shaded what appeared to be a lounge patio on the side of the building. There were several tables set up with umbrellas, a few benches, and even a fire pit. It looked nice. In fact, if he worked in an office—thank God he didn’t—but if he did, he wouldn’t mind coming out here for a lunch break.

  Reeve walked up to the massive willow tree and parted the branches so he could step beneath its canopy. He could definitely see the appeal of these trees. They were beautiful, almost magical. But that sometimes came at a cost if they weren’t planted in the right spot. Once they got this big they could be difficult to mow around because of their root system, which often crept to the surface of the soil.

  This particular tree had completely zapped the surrounding lawn of water, turning it to weeds and dirt. Walking up to the trunk, he ran his hand up the bark looking for the telltale . . . and he spotted it. Small holes and rusty mangled spots on the bark. To some it would go unnoticed, but he’d known what he was looking for. This weeping willow was infested with borer. What a shame. On top of that, its root system was close to the surface and unruly, causing the patio to lift up at the edge. Soon the concrete would begin to crumble. And that was the damage they could see. Willows were sometimes known to interfere with sewer lines below the surface. The tree had to go.

  He stepped to the side to try and see the scars on the trunk better, and his foot kicked something hard. Looking down, Reeve read the small plaque nestled at the base of the tree.

  When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.—Kahlil Gibran

  Planted in Loving Memory of

  Robert Steven Phillips

  Reeve sighed and scratched the back of his neck before muttering, “Well, shit.”

  * * *

  Emily pulled into the drive of LAM Theaters about the same time most of her employees were leaving. The square building, built by her grandfather twenty years ago, was a mostly glass structure only broken up by two bands of black metal that ran the perimeters. The first time she’d seen it she’d been a little girl and had thought it looked like a big crystal Rubik’s Cube. She still smiled when she though
t of that, and every time she pulled up the drive she couldn’t help thinking of her grandfather. And her dad. All of this should have been his.

  She waved at a few cars that passed hers on their way out and then glanced at the clock on the dash. Quarter to five.

  They’d flown back a little later than anticipated because she’d allowed Amanda and her mother to talk her into a late lunch and then a pedicure at one of her favorite salons on the Country Club Plaza. After the marketing meeting, checking in on two of her theaters, and a stressful phone call, it had been a nice afternoon treat.

  Pulling into her parking spot on the back side of the building, she grabbed her bag and headed inside. Considering it was Friday, she should have just driven from the airport straight home, but a few loose ends beckoned. Besides, she’d much rather spend a late Friday evening in her office and then not have to worry about work on Saturday or Sunday.

  Well, that was always the plan at least. She often failed with the follow-through. If she could just learn to stop checking email 24/7 it would be a start.

  After punching in the code, she walked into the back door of her building, the cool air-conditioning sending goose bumps up her arms. Frowning, she walked down the hall into the beautiful main lobby, then headed for the first-floor utility room. If she could function at seventy-one degrees so could her employees. She needed a winter coat in here, for goodness’ sake.

  A throat cleared to her right, and several ladies shuffled away from the large glass wall that ran behind the reception desk off the lobby. They’d all been peering outside the west facing windows, although there wasn’t much of interest beyond it unless someone had been sitting on the patio. Unlikely at this hour, on a Friday no less.

  “Oh hello, Ms. Phillips. We figured you wouldn’t be back today,” Kate, the building receptionist, said.

  Emily smiled. “You know me. All work and no play.”

  The four women—Kate the receptionist, Erica from marketing, then Cody and Monica from human resources—looked back and forth at one another as if they’d been caught gossiping. Odd.

  “What did I miss?” Emily asked.

  Erica’s eyes cut quickly to the window. Emily stepped toward them. “What were you all looking at?”

  Before anyone could answer, Natalie, Emily’s chief financial officer, flew from the bathroom practically still adjusting her skirt. “Is he still out there?” She rushed over to the window completely unaware of Emily.

  “Natalie, what’s going on?” Emily asked.

  Natalie turned, eyes wide. “You’re back. Just in time, come take a look at this.” The grin on the normally serious woman’s face confused Emily, but she walked over hesitantly.

  “We’ve been watching him all day from afar. Shoveling, bending over, just walking,” Kate said. “But now he’s on the patio talking with Daniel.”

  “Daniel? Why is he still here?” Emily walked across the marble-tiled lobby toward them. The sun was slowly dripping to the west, lighting the large glass building, creating harsh glares and reflections, hazing out most of what was beyond. Daniel was Emily’s assistant, and amazing as he was, he never hung around late on a Friday.

  “He’s been trying to call you for the past fifteen minutes but you didn’t answer.” Kate didn’t face Emily as she said it, just stared back out the window. “They’re both under the tree now.”

  Huh? But sure enough, when she peered over Natalie’s shoulder she saw the torso and legs of two men—one being Daniel—talking beneath the willow tree she had planted with her grandfather. Emily could tell by the way Daniel stood with his hands on his hips that he was listening. The other man wore a rather dusty pair of jeans, and his hands moved as if he was explaining something.

  “What’s going on?” Emily asked, completely not understanding.

  “It’s the landscaping guy. He is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Just wait. They’ll come out from under there in a minute.” Natalie waggled her eyebrows.

  “But that’s just it,” Emily said, irritated. “Why are they under my tree?”

  The ladies got a little quiet, but Kate sighed and then spoke up. “He wants to take your tree down, Ms. Phillips.”

  Emily’s heart thumped an extra beat. “What?”

  Kate’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry. He says it’s diseased. And it’s destroying the patio on the far side. But it’s up to you, which is why Daniel has frantically been calling you.”

  Emily’s throat felt tight as she dug her phone out of her bag. She glanced at the screen. Six missed calls and two texts from Daniel. “Shit.”

  Emily headed around Kate’s reception desk and dropped her bag on the floor. “I’ll be back.” As she headed for the hall that lead to the side door, she glanced out the glass once more. The two men were just stepping from behind the long flowing willow branches and coming into view on the patio. Emily froze in her tracks.

  “Oh. My. God.” She turned back, running straight into Natalie, whose big brown eyes looked alarmed.

  “What’s wrong?” Natalie asked.

  Emily glanced over her CFO’s shoulder at the women who’d gotten excited at the sight of their eye candy. Of course. She sucked in a breath, trying desperately to decide how to handle the situation she’d just been thrown into.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  “Emily? Are you okay?” Natalie whispered. “I know you love this tree, but—”

  “No! I mean, yes, the tree. But I have a problem.”

  Emily’s phone rang in her hand. Daniel. She looked outside to see Daniel with his own phone to his ear and the man with him standing off to the side, arms crossed across his chest, stance wide.

  And why the hell did he have to look so sexy in dirty jeans and a baby-blue polo? She now knew why several of her employees had been glued to the glass. Her landscaper? Her one-night stand was her landscaper? Was this really happening? She’d just hired this crew—or Daniel had—a week ago. She’d had a very specific plan given to them. It had not included removal of the willow. The tree that she’d placed in the soil with her very own nine-year-old hands and now looked out on from her third-story office.

  Emily answered the phone on the third ring. “Hello, Daniel. I just walked in the building and I’m on my way out.”

  She watched as Daniel turned to Sexy Shouldn’t Be Here Landscaper and passed on her message. Emily turned to her employee.

  “Natalie, I need to ask you a very strange, but very necessary favor.” Emily swallowed and tried her best not to freak the hell out. Surely by this point she and Natalie had developed a relationship that went beyond employer and employee. They’d worked closely now for almost four years. “And I’m asking this as . . . a friend.”

  Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What?”

  “I need you to walk out there and . . . pretend to be me,” Emily whispered.

  Natalie’s eyes went wide. “What in the world for?”

  Emily cleared her throat and pulled Natalie farther from the group and into a doorway alcove. For a moment she wondered if those silly women realized that although the windows appeared to be mirrored on the outside, in the right sunlight you could see from the outside in. Not her problem.

  “Nat, here’s the deal.” Emily cocked her head. “Do you ever go by Nat?”

  The woman shook her head. “No. Never.”

  “I like it. So, Nat, I’m in an awkward position here.”

  “Okay,” Natalie said warily. “Can you tell me why?”

  “Well, basically.” Emily bit at her bottom lip, contemplating how to explain to the woman who ran her multimillion-dollar company’s finances that she—the CEO and president—could not go out and speak face-to-face with the landscaper.

  “Do you know this guy?” Natalie asked, a grin teasing her lips.

  Emily sagged.

  “You do! Holy shit, seriously? We’ve been watching this guy work all day. I took an extra-long lunch break just so I could sit outside and watch those arms fl
ex behind my sunglasses.”

  “Are you done?” Emily said. “And please keep your voice down.”

  “Why can’t you see him again?” Natalie looked baffled. Then her mouth formed an O, her eyes going wide. “You’ve slept with him, haven’t you? Oh God, have you seen his bare ass? Of course you have. I’m so jealous I could hate you.”

  “Natalie, stop. Please.”

  “Oh shit, was it bad? Is he an asshole?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just that . . . I just can’t see him again. That’s all I can say. So please go out there, and just . . . tell him he can’t cut down the tree. It’s special to me. I mean . . . it’s special to you. Whatever you have to say or do, just do it. Anything. Can you help me?”

  “I think so.” Natalie shrugged. She appeared almost too okay with the task. “What if anything involves offering him a quickie?”

  Emily glowered at the woman in front of her, whom she’d never had any idea could be so filthy.

  “Okay, okay, I’m kidding. But you owe me details about what it was like to sleep with a man like that.”

  “Um, Natalie. We’re not that good of friends.”

  “I’m about to be you. I want details. And you know, now that I think about it, I think I should just say I’m your CFO but that I’m speaking for you. Wouldn’t that work?”

  Emily considered that. The CFO would definitely have more authority than Daniel. “Okay. Okay, yes, that should work. No need to lie. Right?”

  Natalie gave her an uncertain look and was out the door. For a second Emily let her forehead fall into her palm. Of all the situations, she couldn’t believe she was in this one. Then she realized the flaw in her plan and quickly pulled up a text to Daniel. Something came up. Natalie is coming to handle.

  “Shit,” Emily muttered to herself as she made her way back to the lobby. Actually, scratch that. She headed for the elevator. Watching from the second-floor walkway above would give her a view without the possibility of Reeve seeing her through the glass. Or what if he came in? Oh Lord, surely not. Natalie was a beast at finances so surely she could handle telling some guy he couldn’t cut down a tree.