Unexpected vows, p.1

Unexpected Vows, page 1

 

Unexpected Vows
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Unexpected Vows


  Unexpected Vows

  Magnetic North Series

  Kathryn Kaleigh

  To learn more about Kathryn Kaleigh, visit

  * * *

  www.kathrynkaleigh.com

  * * *

  UNEXPECTED VOWS

  PREVIEW: BEGIN AGAIN

  Copyright © 2022 by Kathryn Kaleigh

  All rights reserved.

  Written by Kathryn Kaleigh

  Published by KST Publishing, Inc., 2022

  Cover by Skyhouse24Media

  www.kathrynkaleigh.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, of events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Emma Blake

  2. Harrison Moore

  3. Emma

  4. Harrison

  5. Emma

  6. Harrison

  7. Emma

  8. Harrison

  9. Emma

  10. Harrison

  11. Emma

  12. Harrison

  13. Emma

  14. Harrison

  15. Emma

  16. Emma

  17. Harrison

  18. Emma

  19. Harrison

  20. Emma

  21. Harrison

  22. Emma

  23. Harrison

  24. Emma

  25. Harrison

  26. Emma

  27. Harrison

  28. Emma

  29. Harrison

  30. Emma

  31. Harrison

  32. Emma

  33. Harrison

  34. Emma

  35. Harrison

  36. Emma

  37. Harrison

  38. Emma

  39. Harrison

  40. Emma

  41. Harrison

  42. Emma

  43. Harrison

  44. Emma

  45. Harrison

  46. Emma

  47. Harrison

  48. Emma

  49. Harrison

  50. Emma

  51. Harrison

  52. Emma

  53. Harrison

  54. Emma

  55. Harrison

  56. Emma

  57. Harrison

  58. Emma

  59. Harrison

  60. Emma

  61. Noelle

  Begin Again Preview

  Also by Kathryn Kaleigh

  1

  Emma Blake

  Today was going to be a good day.

  April weather in Houston was stunningly beautiful. It was still winter in a lot of the country and all of Canada. Take Vancouver, for instance. Today was rainy with a high of thirty-five degrees.

  I parked in my assigned spot in the second floor of the garage, grabbed my oversized tote bag and Starbuck’s latte, and took the elevator down to the ground floor. I was early, as always, so I was the only one on the elevator. I liked it that way. It was one of the many ways that I avoided small talk.

  The door opened and I stepped out, my red-bottomed heels tapping on the concrete. The shoes pinched my feet and scraped the backs of my ankles, but image was everything. Tonight I would reward myself with a hot bath and soak away the soreness. Then tomorrow I would do it all over again.

  I could have turned left and walked inside, using the staff elevator to get to my office. Instead, I turned right toward the visitor’s entrance. Using the sidewalk allowed me to soak up a few minutes of sunshine before I spent the rest of the day tucked away in my air-conditioned office. Two butterflies flitted around the row of pink and white daisies lining the walkway while a bluebird did a touch and go over one of the half dozen wooden benches.

  The usual food truck called Morning and Noon sat in its usual place in the parking lot. They had THE best egg and cheese biscuits and lattes that were as good as the one in my hand. Although there was no line yet, I didn’t stop. Not having to get my own breakfast or lunch was one of the perks of being a Senior Architect.

  “Good morning, Miss Blake,” Bob, the doorman said as he opened the door for me.

  “Good morning, Bob. Is Harrison here yet?”

  I already knew that he wasn’t, but I liked Bob. He was a good man.

  “No ma’am. Not yet. He’ll be here though.”

  “Uh huh.” I slid my shades up to the top of my head and walked inside. “I know.” The receptionist, Misty, liked those scented humidifiers, so the lobby always smelled like cinnamon or vanilla and spruce trees during December.

  “Have a good day,” Bob said.

  “You too, Bob.”

  I pushed the button to go up to the tenth floor. My employer, Skye Designs, occupied floors ten and eleven. There was only one more floor above that—the Skye Travels corporate office. They were the least busy since their main office was at the airport. A waste of good space, but no one asked me.

  One of my associates had designed a rooftop work and lounge area and was waiting on board approval. I’d seen the plans and was looking forward to having the outdoor space to use as a place to take a break from my desk. Taking a cue from Las Vegas, he was proposing using an outdoor misting system. With the Houston weather as hot as it was during the long summer months, those misting systems were becoming more and more popular. In fact, I was proposing private patio misting systems as part of my current project design.

  Stepping off the elevator, I walked down the hallway to my corner office and dropped my tote bag on my desk. Taking my coffee, I went to the window and looked out over the Uptown Galleria area. This building was on the western edge of River Oaks, giving me a south and west view.

  I’d lived in New York for all of eleven months before being recruited to Houston by Skye Designs. I’d established a good reputation based partly on my motto “Less is More.” One of the Worthington Enterprises board members, a woman named Ainsley Beaufort, had purchased one of the New York condos based on my designs. She’d liked it so much, she’d offered me a job at her company in Houston.

  It was hard to turn down a position as senior architect, especially with the salary they offered. But it wasn’t New York, something I was still on the fence about.

  A police car pulled up to front of the building and parking. I shrugged. Not my business.

  Wanting to get some creative work done before my meetings started, I sat at my drafting desk and did some sketches.

  2

  Harrison Moore

  Grabbing two egg and cheese biscuits and two lattes from the food truck outside the office, I glanced at my watch. I was still early enough.

  As an executive assistant, if I wasn’t early to work, I was late. And I had to come with breakfast in hand or there would be hell to pay.

  “Good morning, Bob,” I said as I hurried through the door he held open.

  “Boss is upstairs.” Bob’s voice held a note of warning.

  “I had no doubt,” I said over my shoulder, heading toward the elevators.

  I punched the button with my elbow and took a taste of my coffee. Not bad. I usually preferred my coffee cold, but it easier to just order two hot coffees.

  Getting on the elevator, I punched eleven with my elbow and nearly spilled coffee.

  I squared my shoulders and waited for the doors to open.

  The tenth floor, like the rest of the two-year-old building was plush and understated. Worthington Enterprises was expanding so quickly and in so many different directions, they had decided to form a corporation and build their own building to house the myriad divisions they were developing.

  The top floor was occupied by Skye Travels. The legendary founder of the Skye Travels airline company, Noah Worthington, still came into the office on occasion. And even though it was only on occasion, he had the best office in the building.

  A perk of being the founder.

  The tenth and eleventh floors belonged to Skye Designs. Founded by one of Noah’s daughters, it was one of the newest and fastest growing architectural firms in the country. Texas was perfect for the Worthingtons. Go big or go home could be their motto.

  That was one reason why I chose to work here. Another thing the Worthingtons believed in was starting from the ground up. Unless, of course, a person was like Emma Blake who brought their reputation with them.

  If you start at the bottom, you know how things run from the inside out, Noah had told me on the day he’d hired me as an executive assistant.

  I dropped off one coffee and one biscuit at my desk and knocked on Emma’s door.

  “Come,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. Would it seriously hurt her to say come in instead of come?

  “Good morning, Miss Emma,” I said.

  She didn’t bother to glance up from her protractor.

  “Breakfast is on your table,” I said as I set the coffee and biscuit on the little table next to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Why she didn’t work there, I didn’t know. If this were ever my office, I’d put my drafting table right in front of this window.

  I shrugged when she didn’t respond and walked back out.

  “Thank you,” she said, just before I closed the door behind me.

  Emma wasn’t all tha

t bad. She expected five hundred percent from everyone, including herself. Always first to arrive in the mornings and last to leave at night, she had no social life. In the four months I’d worked for her, I’d never once recorded a social engagement on her calendar. No personal phone calls. Nothing. Just work. Notwithstanding her hairstylist, personal trainer and nutritionist.

  The oddest part about her lack of a social life was that she was a looker. Five four, one hundred twenty pounds, long brunette hair secured at the back of her head with a clip. A heart-shaped face with emerald green eyes and perfectly bow-shaped lips.

  Always dressed professionally, I’d never seen her without a suit jacket. And heels. The woman always wore heels.

  Sitting at my own desk I ate my breakfast while I checked messages and reviewed her calendar.

  Maybe, just maybe, I’d have a few minutes to work on my own project today while she was in a meeting.

  Just as I was caught up, a message popped up on my screen.

  EMMA: I need you in my meeting this morning.

  So much for that. I didn’t know how I was supposed to ever be successful with my own project if I was always running after Emma Blake.

  3

  Emma

  My assistant, Harrison Moore, sat next to me with his iPad open and ready to take notes while we waited for Mr. Jackson Fleming.

  Mr. Fleming had a large corner office on the eleventh floor with a perfect view of downtown Houston. He had this office in Houston and one at the airport. He wasn’t an architect. He was a pilot.

  But he and his wife had founded Skye Designs, so there was no one to complain to about how the office could be better used by someone who worked there every day. Besides, he was the head of Skye Designs.

  I used the wait time to check my emails.

  “Did you follow up on this question from Robert Johnson?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Harrison said.

  Harrison had been my assistant since I’d gotten here. I hadn’t picked him and hadn’t asked questions. Whoever picked him had made a good choice.

  What I did know was that he was my age and had an architectural degree from the University of Houston. Though it wasn’t part of my job description, I planned to begin mentoring him after I got a handle on my own projects.

  I also knew that he was far too handsome with deep blue eyes that always seemed to hold a secret smile. By the end of the day he had a five o’clock shadow that added a bad boy sheen to his boy next door looks.

  Not that I noticed. He was my assistant. And work was not a dating pool.

  With nothing of interest in my email, I locked the phone and tapped a finger against the screen.

  “Do you know what this meeting is about?” I asked.

  “No ma’am,” he said, with a glance in my direction. “You don’t?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  Finally, Mr. Fleming walked in and sat at his desk.

  He was always a pleasant man, but at the moment he was wearing a scowl.

  I braced myself, for what, I didn’t know.

  “I’ve been on the phone all morning,” he said, without preamble.

  “Is something wrong with the Martin account?” I’d been working on the Martin account since I got here four months ago.

  It was a planned mid-rise condominium unit near the Highland shopping center in River Oaks. A labor of love for me. Everything I believed in. Less is more. Comfortable housing, designed especially for those who worked from home. No gold faucets that were prohibitive to using. Just high quality and clean lines.

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Why hadn’t Mr. Martin come to me? If there was a problem with the designs, he should have come to me.

  “I can fix it,” I said. “He should have come to me.”

  “It isn’t Mr. Martin’s account.”

  I glanced over at Harrison. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  I forced a smile that I was certain looked fake.

  “I don’t understand—”

  “You’re being deported,” Mr. Fleming said.

  “What? Why? I don’t—”

  “Your Visa expired.”

  “No,” I said. “I renewed it. I have a letter. The paperwork is in progress.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was denied.”

  I inhaled deeply. I could still fix this.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll just go to Vancouver for six months. Work remotely. I can reapply and come right back.”

  Mr. Fleming was shaking his head.

  “I already proposed that. They said no.”

  “You don’t know how this…” I said. “I’ll go to the Immigration office. Straighten it all out.”

  “Emma,” he said. “This is serious. I bought you twelve hours. They were coming to arrest you.”

  A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I’d seen the police car myself. I put a hand to my waist to brace myself.

  “Arrest? But… I…” I didn’t do anything wrong. I went to work every day. I worked hard.

  I hadn’t set foot in Canada since the day I’d left for college. Going back to Vancouver wasn’t an option. My architectural license was here. In the states.

  “I agreed to put you on a flight to Vancouver and fly you there myself.”

  “They can’t do that,” Harrison said, speaking up suddenly.

  I looked at Harrison. I didn’t even think he liked me all that much, but here he was going to bat for me.

  4

  Harrison

  Emma and I rode the elevator down one floor in silence. Everyone else was busy at work, hardly even glancing up as we walked past.

  I knew everyone by name. Knew things about them. Spouses. Kids. Emma had been here for four months and she hardly knew anyone.

  I had to start working her out of that. Find ways to slowly introduce her to people. She was introverted as hell and sometimes an introvert needed help getting to know people. If she was going to work here, she needed to have friends.

  “Do you want to go to the Immigration office now?” I asked, checking my watch.

  She squared her shoulders. “Yes. I don’t have much time.”

  “Agreed.”

  I didn’t ask her how this had happened. I could have taken care of the paperwork myself. In fact… I was surprised she didn’t ask me to do it. I did everything else.

  While I waited for her to grab the strappy handbag she carried in her tote bag, I pulled up directions to the Immigration office. Memorized it.

  “Ready?” I asked when she came back out.

  She ran a hand over her skirt. “Yes.”

  Back down the elevator, down the hallway, and out to the garage.

  “You drive,” she said, handing me her keys.

  “Sure,” I said and opened the passenger door of her black Porsche Cayenne. She climbed in and put on her sunshades.

  I walked around to the driver’s side. She’d driven the few times we’d gone over to the construction site, so I took a minute to acquaint myself with her car.

  She sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, her hands clasped in her lap.

  “Emma,” I said.

  Startled, she turned in my direction.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said. “I’m sure it’s just a mix up.”

 

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