Page 43 of Making Her His

Monday, though, was going to be another difficult day. What was she going to do? Show up at work as if nothing happened at Drummond’s place, especially after she announced that she had another job offer? What kind of fallout would that mean? It’s not like she could stay at her job now.

Could she pretend she was working out a two-week notice as she looked for something else? Would they allow her to? Many companies would walk someone out the door if they knew an employee had something else lined up. Mentally, Chrissy ran through her financial assets. She had some money socked away in the bank that would get her through a few months. If she had to, she could cash in her 401K, but that was a last resort. Maybe she could file for unemployment. Drummond did draw her to his house under false pretenses and made a move on her. That had to count for something, a hostile work environment, right? She didn’t know, and she sighed when she realized she’d have to consult a lawyer to find out. Right now, all of it was too much to process.

She switched on the overhead light in the car and searched for her missing phone. The problem was that in a big car like a Cadillac there were a million places for a small thing like a phone to hide. Chrissy checked the sides of the seats and between them. It was only when her phone rang that she discovered it at her feet under the seat. She panicked, thinking the worst had happened, and her father had a heart attack from the night’s stress. She swore as she fished around and finally closed her hand around the device.

“Hello!” she said breathlessly.

“Um, hi. How are you doing?”

Oh hell. Saks. What was he doing calling her now? “You call me after midnight to ask how I’m doing?”

“Excuse me,” he said, sounding put-off. “I thought I’d apologize for getting all handsy, but I can see it was a wasted call.”

“Sorry, Saks. It’s been a rough night.”

“Yeah, I know something about that. And I’m sorry for my part in it.”

He was apologizing? She was the one who’d caused him grievous injury and he was sorry? She didn’t deserve this. “We’re both pretty sorry, aren’t we?”

“I guess.” Saks’ voice trailed off, and she was afraid he was going to come up with a lame goodbye and she wouldn’t hear from him again.

Would that be so bad? she asked herself. A resounding ‘yes’ came from somewhere in her brain. Or was it the region between her legs? She was having a difficult time deciding where her decisions came from lately. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” he said. His voice was lined with pain, and she swore at her clumsiness. She wouldn’t hurt Saks for the world.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“What? Clipping me in the family jewels? Nah. There’s only one way you can hurt me.”

“How’s that?”

“If you turn me down for dinner tomorrow night.”

Oh, damn.


Saks held his breath while he waited for Chrissy’s response. He knew he was crazy, knew he was probably playing the fool, but he couldn’t stop himself. Even though she said they couldn’t, her body told him something different. His situation was complicated right now, but it didn’t have to be. His family wanted him with a girl—he’d find his own damn woman. Except he needed her to want to be with him as well.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said finally.

Saks tapped the side his phone with his finger, trying to think up a good response. Begging was out. She didn’t seem the type of woman who would like that. Reasoning, likewise, was out. Chrissy certainly wasn’t reasonable tonight. Well, part of that was his fault, coming at her like a wrecking ball in the bar. No. He’d have to do something completely oddball and catch her off guard. What was the strangest thing he could do and still make it seem like he was a good guy? Or, better yet, demonstrate he was a good guy. “You go to church, don’t you?”

“Well, of course, but—”

“Then I’ll pick you up at 8:30 for 9:00 Mass.”

“You go to church?”

“I’m confirmed as a soldier of Christ. Have the commemorative Bible and everything.”

“Uh-huh.” She sounded totally unconvinced.

“And to sweeten the deal, I’ll take you to the best dive diner for breakfast after.”

“What church are we going to?”

Yes! Saks pitched an imaginary ball into the wholly incorporeal basketball hoop on his wall. He shoots! He scores! “We can go to yours.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath. “That’s probably not a good idea,” she said.

Uh-oh. Backtrack. Fast. “Then there’s a little chapel we can go.”

“You have a church you go to? Does the priest even know your name?” Chrissy’s disbelief registered forcibly over the phone.

He damn well better know my name for the all money my family’s given the church over the years. Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite the right way to think. The priest knew him. Knew his family. But Saks wasn’t going to take her there. It was probably best to avoid the prying eyes of family, especially when he was going with a woman his family hadn’t lined up for him to marry. “That hurts. Of course he knows my name.”