Love Rehired: Haven, #1

By Beth Gildersleeve

Going back might be her dumbest decision. Ever.
Emily Potter's life takes an unexpected U-turn when she returns to the job that caused all her problems and heartache. She'll have to confront the bad habits that almost broke her and face the man she walked out on, her onetime crush, the hotel chain's handsome, off-limits CEO…

Jackson Wyatt hasn't been enthusiastic about anything since Emily quit, and the turmoil in his office threatens the business. But now, thanks to his wily grandmother, Emily is back. Jackson can't afford to lose her again, so he ignores his risky attraction to her and focuses on work.

But the new Emily wants more in her life than just work. She wants to find her Mr. Right, and Jackson foolishly offers to help her. As he battles both his growing attraction and a hostile takeover, Jackson knows failure means losing everything he loves. 

Love Rehired is the first standalone book in the Haven series of feel-good, contemporary romance novels. If you like bubbly chemistry, relatable characters, and meddling friends, buy Love Rehired today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Gildersleeve
• Release date: Sep 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393317425

Beth Gildersleeve

Beth Gildersleeve lives for a happily ever after, especially when it's part of a contemporary sweet romance story. Beth's a big fan of Dr. Brené Brown and her work around shame, vulnerability, and bravery. Her characters' struggles and successes reflect these themes. When Beth isn't plotting or writing, she's busy Googling answers to her adult daughters' questions (they still think she knows everything), finding misplaced items for her husband of almost thirty years, serving her rescued dogs' needs, losing at Words with Friends, and searching for the last three books to complete her Betty Neels collection. She is a member of RWA and Northern Lights Writers.

Book preview

Prologue

Fifteen Months Earlier

J ackson, your last appointment is at four o’clock with Eileen to review the latest social media campaign. Emily set his coffee on the edge of his desk and began nervously twisting the ring on her right hand. Can I get some time after that?

Jackson continued to read his emails. Sure thing, Em. Let me know when you get last week’s summary report from Portland. ’K?

And with that, she was dismissed. He’d never even glanced up from his monitor. Emily was asking for the biggest discussion of her career, and he’d barely registered it. She wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but she’d hoped for more.

She added it to his calendar and sent him a reminder at lunch. She also texted him a reminder mid-afternoon.

Eileen breezed in ten minutes after her scheduled time, and the meeting took longer than it should have. But then again, almost every meeting Eileen had with Jackson ran over time. In the last few months, Emily had noticed a distinct correlation between meeting length and Eileen’s skirt length: the shorter the skirt, the longer the meeting. And that day’s skirt indicated a long meeting.

Emily was double-checking Portland’s spreadsheet for formula errors when Eileen finally exited Jackson’s office at 5:30. He was close behind her with his coat over his arm.

Jackson, wait! We have a meeting, Emily exclaimed, springing up from her desk chair.

We do? He stopped and turned to face Emily. Oh, damn, we do. Jackson ran his fingers through his wavy hair and studied the floor for a moment. Emily knew that move, and she knew what was coming. He would look at her with those melty chocolate-brown eyes, fix a self-deprecating smile on his full lips, and ask for forgiveness or a favor, or possibly both. The Master Manipulator at work. But Emily wasn’t going to let it work this time. She was done being his puppet.

Em, I am so sorry. I totally forgot. It’s been a long week, and this meeting with Eileen ran way too long. Why she always insists on Friday afternoon meetings is beyond me. Any other time during the week would be better.

Seriously?! Is he that clueless about what Eileen’s after?

Jackson glanced at his watch. Anyway, I really need to get going. Like I said, it’s been a long week. I’m sure whatever it is can wait until Monday. He gave her a pleading look and a reassuring arm squeeze before heading toward the elevator.

Emily remembered what she and her therapist had discussed earlier in the week about boundaries and taking care of herself. Stay strong. Take a stand. Be brave.

No, Jackson. It can’t wait until Monday, she said purposefully to his retreating backside.

Jackson sighed, walked back toward Emily, dumped his coat on the empty chair, and propped his hip on her desk. He leaned toward her. OK, Em. What’s so important it can’t wait until Monday?

I need a break. Emily paused to gather her composure and then rushed on. I have six weeks of paid time off earned, plus I can match that with unpaid time off. I’ve talked with HR, and they can move Maggie Jenkins here for the next three months—

A break that long would be a disaster for this office—

She could reach me in emergencies, or—

No! Maggie is not a suitable replacement for you, he said, shaking his head from side to side. Jackson started to pace. How about a couple of long weekends? I’ll even get you complimentary stays at Hart Hotels. He looked up excitedly. Hey, how about a long weekend in Portland, and you can get a firsthand peek at what’s happening there? We could kill two birds with one stone.

Long weekends are not an option, Jackson.

A break isn’t an option either, Emily.

Emily stared past Jackson. What’s my Plan B? Come on brain, think!

If not a break, then we need to hire afternoon help, Emily proposed. If I had help, I could get out of here at a decent hour. Not the best option for me, but a drowning woman will grab anything she can. This was a compromise. He’d have to accept it.

Not an option, Jackson said decisively. I can’t risk the confidential nature of what happens in this office to a part-timer. Jackson finally looked at her. I know you work really hard. We both do. But, Em, we’re a team, he cajoled.

With another glance at his watch, Jackson grabbed his coat and strode back toward the elevator. Em, we don’t seem to have any options right now. Have a good weekend. Try to get some rest. I’ll see you Monday.

As the elevator doors opened and Jackson stepped in, Emily stood tall, looked him in the eye, and said, No, Jackson. I’m not out of options. I quit.

Chapter 1

The Cavalry

I f the scowl on your face is any indication, it looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Mrs. Hart teased as she entered Jackson’s office on Monday morning. Jackson responded with a caveman-like grunt. He relaxed his clenched jaw before she could ask what was wrong. He flashed her a mischievous grin.

I’m normally such an even-tempered, understanding guy, Jackson said. Accidents happen, and mistakes are made. You learn from them and move on.

Who are you and what have you done with my grandson? Mrs. Hart made an unladylike grunt of her own, then quickly smothered it with a chuckle. She shared an equally mischievous grin with her grandson before sitting down in front of his steel and glass desk.

The Jackson I know and love wants it done perfectly on time and on budget. If those are met, then yes, you can be even-tempered and understanding, she acknowledged. So, who’s let you down this time?

Human resources. They promised me my new assistant would be starting first thing this morning, but there hasn’t been any sign of one. Not even a ‘Sorry, I’m late, I got lost’ message, he said, leaning back in his chair. It feels like there’s a revolving door around here. I can’t keep anyone. And then there’s all the time lost with training them in and answering endless mind-numbing questions. Not to mention all the covert flirting. Jackson paused. Maybe HR can get me a male assistant. That would take care of a lot of issues. Jackson pondered this for a few minutes before glancing at his grandmother. He noticed her failing poker face.

Wait a second, Jackson said slowly as he straightened from his reclined posture and stood up. He studied her more closely. What are you doing here before nine o’clock on a Monday morning looking like the cat that swallowed the canary?

Well, my dear boy, Mrs. Hart said, patting him on the hand and smiling, the cavalry has arrived.

You’re my new assistant? Jackson asked incredulously.

Don’t be ridiculous. She chuckled. I don’t have the energy to keep up with you, let alone all the new office technology. Unless there’s an electronic typewriter lurking in a corner somewhere. She peered around him as though one was hiding behind his desk.

No, Jackson, after much deliberation, the other members of the board of Directors and I have decided to go a different route, she explained, smoothing out her skirt. We have hired an assistant for you, but she will report directly to us.

Stony silence greeted Mrs. Hart’s declaration. The only audible sound was the air exchange system clicking on and off. After several tense minutes, Jackson turned to his grandmother with squared shoulders and clenched fists and asked, Why? Do you think I am somehow unable to manage my employees? I’m the CEO!

Not at all, but you’ve gone through all the qualified people in the area. Your reputation as a slave-driving grumpy bear means no one wants to work for you, regardless of how well they’re compensated. We’re hoping that if your assistant reports directly to the board, the dynamic will change.

Jackson hated to admit it, but his grandmother might be right. He knew he was getting a bad reputation as a manager, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He’d lowered his standards with each new assistant. Hell, with the last one he’d even started to answer the phone. If he had a competent assistant, he knew he could turn the situation around. He’d be able to focus on work, make progress on the necessary website renovations, focus on the three- and five-year plans, and stop being a grumpy bear, as his observant, and blunt, grandmother pointed out.

Many people depended on Hart Hospitality: employees, vacationers, business travelers, and the shareholders, which were his immediate family. Maybe with this new assistant, he’d get his focus and fire back. Ever since Emily had quit last year, he’d been unhappy and unmotivated. If this kept up, it would start to show on Hart’s bottom line. His grandfather had worked too hard to build the successful hotel chain only to have it sink into mediocrity because of Jackson’s work slump.

Fine, you win, Jackson grumbled as he returned his gaze to the storm clouds gathering outside his window.

Jackson, she said sharply. This isn’t a competition. It is in everyone’s best interest if you have a capable assistant who can help you. She’ll take direction from you, but if there is a problem, she’ll bring it to me. I’ve also authorized her to hire an assistant, if she feels it is needed. We are fortunate she agreed to our offer. Mrs. Hart grabbed her purse and stood to leave.

And, Jackson, listen closely to this. Mrs. Hart tapped her index finger on his desk to get his full attention. Her hours are 8:30 til 5:00 and make sure she takes a proper lunch, not one of those working and typing lunches you love so much. She checked her watch. She should be here by now.

Mrs. Hart made her way toward the door. When you’re done pouting, buzz her in, and the two of you can get settled.

The only indication that Jackson had heard her was a head nod in his grandmother’s direction before the door softly closed behind her.

Pouting?! Hell, no! I’m not five. I can solve my own problems including when my Admin eats her damn lunch! Jackson’s hands were still tightly fisted at his side. True, he had gone through a few assistants in the last year. Three? Maybe five? But surely there were still people eager to work with him, weren’t there? And to go behind his back? That was low, even for his meddling grandmother. It was one thing to try and set him up on dates with her bowling league friends’ granddaughters, but it was another thing to mess with the staffing at Hart.

Sure, Gram cared about his success and the success of the business. The hotels all had her last name on them, after all, not his. And yes, she loved him and had always been his biggest supporter. But he was a grown man, a highly educated, industry-respected man who’d just been outmaneuvered by a petite, sharp-minded, seventy-five-year-old woman. This time her meddling really stung.

But with all her intelligence, love, and life experience, could Gram be onto something? Maybe he should be open-minded to her idea and let the board of directors help him manage this new assistant. Maybe it would help him fix his tarnished reputation as a manager. Jackson demanded a lot of himself and those who worked closely with him. Until recently he’d always been driven to do the best work he could. He was friendly and easygoing with all the staff members as long as they gave one hundred percent. Slackers were not welcome. As his second-grade teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, observed, Jackson is well-liked by his classmates, but he doesn’t always play well with others. A dichotomy that had never left him. Jackson again plowed his fingers through his messed-up hair, hoping to shake some brain cells loose.

He frowned as he surveyed the piles of paperwork sitting on the floor where he had banished them several weeks ago when they threatened to overtake his desk. He admitted he had too much work on this plate—or more accurately his floor—so he couldn’t afford to be picky about who helped him. Plus, he didn’t have much to lose by going along with his grandmother’s scheme. Not that he had a choice. With a resigned thump, Jackson landed in his chair, pressed the intercom button, and said, Bring in some coffees and let’s get started. No cream or sugar, thanks.

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B lack like your heart, Emily mumbled to herself as she waited for the coffee machine to spit out the two cups of liquid courage. That’s not a fair comment . What happened between us before was not all Jackson’s fault. This time it will work. I’m setting boundaries, and I’m going to maintain them. She added a splash of cream to her coffee and, after digging through the cupboards, she added a shake of cinnamon to Jackson’s. It didn’t smell very spicy, so she added another shake and made a mental note to buy new cinnamon. Emily had a sneaky suspicion this was the same bottle she’d been using when she’d left Hart a little over a year ago.

She’d made a lot of changes in the last year and learned a lot of new skills. How to take care of herself. How to manage stress. How to set boundaries. But knowing and doing were two different beasts. She knew but she didn’t always do. She was a work in progress, though she admitted sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between that and a hot mess.

Boundaries. That would be the biggest challenge. She’d never set boundaries with Jackson, and that had been the problem. After a lot of sleepless nights and soul-searching therapy, Emily had acknowledged he wasn’t the Master Manipulator. She had been a die-hard, people-pleasing perfectionist who had willingly done whatever he’d asked of her. Emily had even done what he hadn’t asked. She’d fallen in love with him.

She took a final glance at her reflection in the window glass and smoothed down her navy-blue wrap dress. Emily stood taller and enjoyed the extra bit of confidence the body-hugging dress gave her. She’d rather wear comfortable flats, but her new heels would help her stand her ground. Hart Hospitality needed her, and she needed Hart Hospitality.

She knew this first meeting with Jackson wouldn’t be a battle, but that’s what it felt like. Emily didn’t know if Jackson would welcome her back, and she was prepared for an icy reception. He’d never contacted her after she’d quit last year. All communication had come from Human Resources and that had surprised and further hurt her. She was glad she had Mrs. Hart’s support. Emily was afraid she was going to need it.

As she pushed open Jackson’s office door with her hip, she reminded herself that this time she was laying down some rules. There was no way she was going to lose. She was pleased to see nothing had changed in his office since she’d been gone. It had a clean, modern appearance to it, but the color scheme made it warm and inviting.

Straight ahead was Jackson’s work area. His large desk tended to overflow with papers, but today there were only a few neat piles. Either Jackson had discovered neatness while she’d been gone, or Mrs. Hart was right and he wasn’t as engaged with his work. Emily took a fortifying glance out of his window at the Poplar River as she cautiously approached his desk.

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His body recognized her before his brain did. No other woman made his system hum just by being in the same room with him. No other woman had that clean citrus smell that reminded him of sunshine and lemon bars.

But maybe he was wrong? Surely his grandmother wouldn’t rehire the woman who’d left him high and dry? The woman who’d walked out on him without even a goodbye. The woman who’d left with no reason. Please, don’t let it be Emily, Jackson prayed as every cell in his body told him it was a foolish wish. Jackson struggled to find his poker face and tried to relax the death grip he had on his computer mouse. He didn’t need to look up from his monitor to know it was Emily.

No wonder you haven’t been able to keep any assistants if you made them wait this long for your attention, Emily teased from the middle of the room.

After listening to the clock tick-tock one too many times, Jackson finally drummed up the courage to peel his eyes away from his monitor and look at Emily. His gaze traveled from her shapely ankles up her calves and to her knees where her dress blocked the rest of his view. And, from the way the dress clung to her curves, Jackson knew the rest of her legs would be just as incredible. The new Emily walking toward him was an even more dangerous package than the old Emily.

I should just surrender now, he said to himself as he continued his assessment. I should just wave the white flag and admit defeat. As much as he wanted to give in to his attraction, he knew he couldn’t risk it. Too much was at stake. Emily was giving him a second chance, and he didn’t want to blow it. He owed it to her to be a true friend this time. He’d have to leave his lustful thoughts at home. From now on, thoughts of Emily belonged in the boardroom, not the bedroom.

His honorable intentions lasted until his eyes encountered the tiny vintage locket hanging in the vee of her dress. Eyes up! Do NOT stare at her chest. Jackson forced his eyes to continue moving north. He risked eye contact. God, how had he forgotten how incredible her eyes were? They were the prettiest green. A poet would probably say they were the color of lush Irish spring grass, the type of grass lambs cavorted on, or some other crap. But to him, they were like perfect dill pickle chips on a well-made hamburger. A man would never starve gazing into her eyes.

Emily cleared her throat to get his attention as she leaned over and placed his coffee on his desk. Jackson’s nose took an appreciative sniff. He was instantly transported to lemon-scented summer days. He also smelled a hint of cinnamon. That meant Emily had remembered how he liked his coffee and cared enough to make it that way. Maybe he wasn’t in the doghouse after all. Maybe she had forgiven him for forcing her to quit.

Hi, Emily said, looking at Jackson without making eye contact.

Hi, yourself, Jackson responded cautiously. He had no idea how to handle this situation, and thanks to his grandmother’s surprise, he’d had no time to prepare. Emily, however, had had preparation time. Letting her lead the discussion would probably be the best course of action at this point.

"Do you want me to