Free Jane Eyre Austen by Doyle MacBrayne

She talked to Mrs. Fairfax about it.  Mrs. Fairfax was certain that Mr. Poole would figure it out and that it was best she didn’t follow up with more questions.
    She was working late, finishing up the project when Mr. Poole came in.  It was the first time she’d seen him since the conference room and her heart leapt to attention.
    “Hello, Jane. How is your mother?” he asked.
    “Well enough,” she managed to say.
    “Jane, really. . .” His voice was soft, informal.  No games today she thought. 
    “She probably had a stroke; she’s in the hospital on Coumadin.” 
    “Why are you here then?” he asked.
    She turned to the computer and saved the file.  “I was on a roll, wanted to finish this.”  She looked at him and smirked, “Mom’s not able to handle the hospital situation. They’ve got her sedated.”  She shrugged, “It’s difficult to watch.”
    “I’m sorry, Jane.  Is there anything I can do to help?”
    “No, thank you.  I appreciate it.  I won’t be able to accompany you on Friday, though. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.  She should be home in a couple of days, assuming…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.  Tears began to sting her eyes and she just shook her head, hoping he would just leave before she lost it.
    “Assuming what, Jane?”
    She blinked back the tears and plastered on a fake smile, “Assuming she’s not so batty she’s violent.”  She pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk. She wanted to get out of there quickly, but he stood there, looking at her with pity. 
    She rolled her eyes, “Don’t look at me like that, Gray.  I hate pity.  Good night.”
    He sat frozen on the edge of her desk watching her hasty retreat.  Shocked at the reality of her life and surprised at her candor.  She called him by his first name. 
    Last week he had caught himself seducing her and tried to put an end to those thoughts.  Throwing himself into work, he figured his curiosity would soon pale, like it always did.  But it didn’t.  Every night he relived every word spoken between them.  He rubbed his lower lip; he knew tonight he would relive this scene again.  It didn’t matter if they were playing a game-- jousting verbally, trying to outwit each other. It only mattered that it was her.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER twelve
     
     
    She received a text from Ben asking her to lunch that day.   Jane texted back that if he was around at noon, she’d treat.  She didn’t ask about his meeting.  Ben was in security. The reason people contacted him was for information or protection and it was always confidential.
    She dressed more contemporary than usual, a purple dress she had found in Notting Hill with matching shoes and purse.  She pulled her hair up in a French twist and wore more makeup than usual on her eyes.  She wanted to look different, not like the pitiful creature she felt herself to be.
    Ben appreciated the effort; he came in at eleven forty-five that morning and stopped at her desk.  He grinned, “You look amazing, as always, Janie.”  He motioned to her for a hug and embraced her.  His nose nuzzled her hair and he growled, “Jesus, Janie, you’re giving me a hard on!” 
    “You’re an ass,” she warned, pushing him away.
    He whispered, “I want your ass.”  He looked back at her, grinned and brushed her cheek gently, “I love it when you blush, Janie.”
    Clayton appeared in the hallway, clearing his throat to announce his presence.  Jane felt herself turn crimson and glared at Ben who looked incredibly pleased.  She buzzed Mrs. Fairfax and sent Clayton in. 
    Jane let Mrs. Fairfax know she was going to lunch and followed Ben silently onto the elevator. 
    Ben put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.  “Do you like Poole?”
    Her eyes forward, she shrugged, “I enjoy talking with him.”
    “That’s not what I asked, Janie.”
    She slid her eyes toward him, “Please tell me this isn’t why you