Finding Spring (Almost a Billionaire Book 3)

by Bridget E. Baker

  He holds out his hand and I shake it. Jim's tuxedo looks nice, like the more-expensive-than-a-car kind of nice. His face is a little severe, but it's handsome too, in a unique and compelling way.

  “I'm assuming you're friends with the groom,” I say.

  He nods. “You probably know all the bride's friends and family already.”

  I bob my head up and down. “All five of us.”

  “Luke and I go way back.”

  “I wish I'd known Luke ten or fifteen years ago,” I say. “I can't seem to imagine him any younger than he is. It’s like my brain thinks he was born as competent and assured as he is today.”

  Jim clears his throat. “Luke's one of the world's best people, which is probably why there are so many of his friends here. I met him his first year of college, and he was already pretty competent and assured.”

  Mary deserves someone like him. And I probably deserve the brother who hides his business ventures because he feels threatened by Mr. Perfect.

  “So you went to school together?” I ask.

  “We did. Luke helped me in almost every subject. He's got a mind as sharp as a steel trap.”

  I doubt this guy needed much help. “Clearly you can barely string two words together. How did Luke manage to put up with such an oaf? Or might I sense a tiny bit of false Ivy League modesty?”

  Jim’s loud laugh surprises me. “You’re a little fireball, aren’t you?”

  He and I make small talk for a few minutes, and by the time they bring dessert, I've calmed down a lot, thanks in large part to Jim’s dry humor. Luke and Paul's great aunt on my other side is really nice, but her hearing aids clearly need adjustment. My attempts to carry on a conversation with her resulted in a lot of loud “Whats?” and “Excuse mes?”

  “I couldn't help but notice that you knew Paul,” Jim says as they place a slice of cheesecake in front of me.

  “You could say that.”

  “Were you upset with him?”

  “Let's just say that I knew Paul without realizing I knew Paul.”

  Jim's brow furrows. “How is that possible?”

  I take a bite and let it melt on my tongue. “He's my boss, which is awkward enough, but it's worse actually. We went on a few dates, and he still hadn't told me his real name. Some thing with him and his brother, I don't know.” I probably shouldn't be telling him any of this, but it's not my stupid secret, and by the look of things, Paul's coming clean to Luke at that end of the table right now. I've noticed a lot of hands thrown up in the air and pointed glares.

  “Be careful there,” Jim says.

  “Careful?” I ask. “Why do you say that, other than the obvious advice not to date my boss?”

  “It's not really my business,” Jim says. “Never mind.”

  “If you know Luke, I'm guessing you know Paul too.”

  Jim nods. “Met them the same year.”

  “Are you saying you think he’s a bad guy?”

  “Not a bad guy, no. I've just seen a lot of disappointed ladies in the wake of Hurricane Paul, that's all. And you seem to smart for that.”

  I think about poor Cynthia. Whom I shouldn’t really pity, since she was essentially a spy. But still, she seemed to genuinely like him, inasmuch as she was able. But then I think about Jack playing with Troy. And throwing the ball for his dog. Plus, he is Luke's brother. How bad could he really be?

  Which makes me wonder why Jim’s undermining him to me.

  “Where did you say you're from?” I ask.

  “I didn't say, but I'm from New York. I've lived in the city most of my life.”

  He's not a big fan of Paul, but he knew him in college. I think about the research I did this past week, about all the shell companies. All the US based ones were registered in New York. Which might not mean anything, or then again it might. “Your name doesn't happen to be James Fullton the Fourth, does it Jim?”

  His eyes widen. “It is, yes. How did you know that?”

  I shrug. “Let's call it a hunch.”

  “Impressive hunch. You work for Paul, you said?” A smile creeps onto James Fullton's sharply angled face.

  “I do. And last week I found a key logger and helped him follow it to it’s owner. And then we tracked that back to a shell company, owned by one James Fullton the Fourth.”

  Jim leans back in his chair and stares at me intently.

  “Where did you find Cynthia? That seems like a lucky find, a woman who is willing to spy on Paul. She seemed to genuinely like him.”

  He sighs. “She does like him. She jumped at the chance to get information from me on how to snag 'Jack's' attention. My advice worked too, because I really do understand what makes him tick. After the took my advice to grab his attention, she couldn’t risk backing out on our deal.”

  “Because you’d tell him she was spying on him.”

  James nods. “People never think things all the way through.”

  “Why do any of it?” I ask. “Why steal Paul’s ideas and then sell them for what amounts to pennies?”

  “Paul got me kicked out of Harvard. Did he mention that to you?”

  Nope, he sure did not.

  “I had the answers to a history test. A TA from the class sold them to me. I didn't think I'd need them, but I had them on me just in case. I didn't even pull them out, but I mentioned to Paul I had them when I saw him cramming at two a.m. the night before the exam. I offered to make him a copy as a favor.”

  I didn't peg Paul for a goodie two-shoes, what with his spy operations and fake names, but maybe he's changed a lot in the intervening years.

  “You like Luke at least,” I say flatly.

  James nods. “I never had a chance to pay good old Paul back without hurting his brother, but I kept tabs on him. When I saw the opportunity, I took it.”

  No regret, no apology, no embarrassment. James is a calculating guy, but he refused to move against Luke, so he has some kind of moral code. “Are you done tormenting him yet?” I ask. “Has he paid enough?”

  “Getting kicked out of Harvard caused a rough couple of years for me. My parents weren't pleased, and they cut me off.”

  “And that wasn’t in any way your fault,” I say. “For cheating. It’s all on Paul?”

  James shrugs. “It probably helped me in the long run. But even a well justified beating hurts.”

  “So you’re not done punishing him?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Jim says. “But just as he couldn’t get me kicked out if I hadn’t been cheating, I couldn’t have stolen his tech if he hadn’t been dumb enough to date Cynthia, and strike out on his own, selfishly.”

  That’s fair.

  Jim sips his drink. “You’re mad at him, but you seem to genuinely like him too. I’ll tell you this about Paul, and I’m not trying to punish him with this. He's not Luke, and he values different things than his brother. And, unlike Luke, when things get hard, Paul sometimes bails.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Speaking of bailing, you’re in a weird situation now. You’re working for Paul, and you know who he really is, and you know your job may be short lived if he sells his prototype.”

  “That’s true.”

  “If I offered you a job at one of my banks here in town, would you take it?” Jim's eyes look utterly steady. All signs point to his offer being serious.

  “You don't even know what I do. I could be the office manicurist.”

  He looks at my chipped nails and wisely makes no comment. “You found my key logger. You helped Paul identify Cynthia. And you tracked me down and connected the dots from that research to this table. That's good enough for me,” Jim says.

  “I'm an IT manager.”

  “I can definitely find you an appropriate position, and I'll offer you a ten percent raise over what Paul's paying you.” Jim smirks. “I'm not trying to twist your arm, and I don't care whether you date Paul. I’m a very successful businessman because I am always hunting for and rewarding talent. You wouldn’t be
working for me, not directly at all. I own the majority of Fullmer Bank, but I don't oversee the day-to-day operations. I'm merely offering you a job as a final dig at Paul, and because you’re bright and capable. Say the word and I’ll make a call to our local branch.”

  “I should trust the guy who sends spies and steals ideas?”

  He shrugs. “Is that really worse than the guy who makes up fake names and dates spies? Other than my inability to forgive when I’ve been wronged, I’m not so bad.”

  I don't know how I feel about Jack. Or Paul. Or whoever he is. I never felt comfortable dating my boss. But whether I ought to leave so I can date him, or whether I ought to stay and not date him is all very confusing. Which is one of the reasons I made that list in the first place, so I wouldn’t be in this situation.

  Even so.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

  Jim shrugs. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t answer me yet. I'll be here all weekend, so you have plenty of time to change your mind.”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”

  When he grins, he looks just like a falcon I saw once at the zoo. Right after they released its dinner and it dove down and snapped a rabbit’s neck. In spite of his attitude, or maybe because of it, I actually like Jim a lot more than I’d have expected to like the person who spied on Paul. He gives me a card and half bows before walking away. The strangely regency gesture from a clearly modern day man makes me grin.

  Paisley grabs my elbow the minute he’s gone. “Ready to go home yet? Because I have so many questions for you, it isn't even funny.”

  “Weren’t you sitting by Paul and Mary?” I ask. “I imagine you know most everything by now. It looked like he was fessing up.”

  Paisley’s eyes widen. “He’s been hiding a secret company! It’s wild. Luke’s pretty upset.”

  Paul approaches us, his hands in his pockets. His eyes meet mine and a spark zooms down my spine. I shiver and rub my hands over my arms. I wish his jaw wasn’t so square. I wish he wasn’t so tall and fit. But mostly, I wish I didn’t want him to kiss me so badly. It’s making it hard to hold on to my anger. And I am angry.

  “Can we talk?” he asks.

  “What about?” I force a frown to cover the tremor in my voice. “Because I don't really see the point.”

  “I want to explain,” Paul says. “Please?”

  “When I moved down to this end of the table, someone said, ‘it looks like you already know Paul.’” I scowl at Paul. “You know what I realized? I thought I knew Jack, but tonight I found out I don't know him, or you. Not at all.”

  “That's a little overwrought, don't you think?” Paul asks.

  Overwrought? Like I need smelling salts or I'll pass out? Or is he worried that I’ll make a scene?

  I'm not the one being unreasonable. I'm not the one who lied to my entire family to fill some need to strike out on my own. I'm beginning to think Paul's a coward. Well, I've dated one coward and it didn’t go well for me. Chris yanked me along for months and months, hiding his girlfriend the entire time. He didn't even bother telling me that he'd checked out of our marriage of four years.

  I have no patience for cowards.

  “How's this for melodrama?” I widen my eyes at him. “I met one of your old Harvard buddies tonight, a guy named Jim. Once I puzzled out that his full name was James Fullton the Fourth, he offered me a job.”

  “I saw him down there, but you told him you already had a job.” A muscle in Paul's face twitches. “Right?”

  “He knows I work at SITB. He may be the only other person here who knows what that means for my future employment prospects, especially now that you're confessing everything to your brother. He offered me better pay and a drama free work environment. Now that you’ve seen how overwrought I become in difficult situations, I think you’ll agree that’s a promising offer. He also showed me his license so I could verify his real name.”

  Paul frowns. “No he didn’t.”

  I shake my head. “No, he didn’t.”

  “What did you tell him?” Paul’s voice is satisfactorily rough, and his eyes suitably concerned.

  “I told him I'd come check it out,” I lie. “But as my boss, you should know I'm leaning toward taking it.”

  I storm out of the room, and when I glance back, Jim's grin looks identical to that falcon’s as he tore chunks out of that rabbit.

  Mary's standing near the exit to the dining room, telling people goodbye. She hugs me one last time. “I'm sorry about Paul's poor behavior. Luke isn't very happy with him.”

  Mary makes it sound like Paul stepped on my shoe, or spilled a drink on my dress. “He lied to me and he's been lying to you and Luke. For over a year.”

  “Family stuff gets complicated,” Mary says, “as I'm sure you, of all people, can understand. I'm going to let Luke handle all that, but I'm sorry you got wrapped up in it. For what it's worth, I think Paul really is a pretty good guy. He got a little confused about how to handle his business goals, but he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Especially not you.”

  “So you'll let Luke handle how he feels about Paul, but you'll tell me how to feel about all of it?”

  Mary shakes her head slowly, ruefully. “I'm not trying to manage you, Trudy. I'm sorry it felt that way. I really hope this won't ruin our entire weekend.”

  My sister's sad eyes bring me back to myself and I realize that I'm acting like a spoiled brat. Mary's getting married tomorrow. I've already thrown a fit in the middle of her rehearsal dinner and screamed publicly at her soon-to-be brother-in-law. “I won't ruin anything else, I promise. I'm sorry for freaking out.”

  “If you had to draw a lot of attention to yourself, at least you looked good doing it.” Mary touches the edge of my dress where it covers my shoulder. “You look amazing in that. I can't believe it fits you so well.”

  “Where did you get this anyway?” I ask. “I'd never seen it before. Paisley found it stuffed in a box at the very back corner of your closet.”

  Mary purses her lips and looks at me for a moment before answering. “It was Mom's wedding dress.”

  “You're kidding.”

  Mary shakes her head. “Nope.”

  “It's blue.”

  Mary shrugs. “Mom wasn't ever very traditional, so I guess that was fitting. I thought it was sort of symbolic actually. We came from terrible parents so that's definitely part of our story, but we can do things right instead of all wrong. I liked seeing you wear it the night before I get married.”

  Her words sink deep as I walk with Paisley down the hall, around the corner and toward the exit. Am I doing things right? I refused to let Paul explain his reasons for doing something that really had nothing to do with me. And then I threatened to quit my job to work for his enemy, a man I barely know. I want to turn around and run back to Paul, but I need to get home before I turn into a pumpkin. It's late, and I'm obviously not thinking straight.

  Which makes it a really awful time for me to open the doors to the outside and see someone I haven't seen in at least a decade. She looks far, far better than she should, given her age.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Mary.” My mom's sky blue eyes fill with tears. “You're wearing my dress? Oh, you look like an angel!”

  My laugh rings far too high, and far too shrill. I try to stop laughing, but I can't seem to do it.

  Paisley puts an arm around me. “This is Trudy, not Mary. And who are you?”

  “Oh, Trudy, of course.” Mom's eyebrows draw together. “Sorry for my mistake. And I'm her mother, and Mary's. Who are you?”

  Paisley's glare would fry the paint off of a brand new car. “What are you doing here? You certainly weren't invited.”

  My absent, uncaring, selfish mother glances from me to Paisley and back again. “Who in the world is this, Trudy?”

  “She's our best friend,” I say. “And she's right that you weren’t invited. Why are you here?”

  “I w
ant to see my daughter get married,” Mom says. “I'd think that was obvious. Can you believe I found out about the wedding from a listing in the paper? One of my friends pointed out the announcement. It said the wedding was at a private residence, but when I called the paper, they mentioned that Mary's wealthy fiancé booked the Atlanta History Center for the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Mary and Luke aren't going to give you any money Mom, so you may as well go away.”

  She presses her hand to her chest. “I can’t believe you'd even suggest that's why I'm here. I’ve never asked you for money.”

  “You’ve never been around to ask for anything, and your first words when you show up are that Luke’s wealthy.”

  Mom’s nostrils flare. “I don’t need money. I only wanted to see my daughters.”

  Paisley holds out her phone. “I'll save your number. If Mary has any interest in you coming to the ceremony tomorrow, one of us will text you the location.”

  Mom rattles off some numbers and finally leaves. I pointedly ignore her sniffs and wounded eyes. There’s no room left in my life for additional melodrama tonight.

  I practically run down the steps to my car once she's gone. After the night I've had, I won't be the least bit surprised if my car has turned into an actual pumpkin. Or if a few wicked stepsisters turn up on my front porch, ready to tear my dress into pieces.

  Luckily nothing else happens, and when I shimmy out of Mom's bad juju dress and climb into bed, I try to go to sleep without thinking about Jack. Or Paul. Or whoever he is.

  I don't succeed, but I try really hard.

  15

  Paul

  Mary gives Trudy a hug and she heads out the door. I wish Luke wanted to give me a hug. Heck, I’d be happy with a smile, or anything other than a scowl.

  “Now that most of my guests are gone, I think you have some explaining to do, Jack Campbell.”

  “It's Mom's maiden name—”

  “And your middle name. I got it. I'm actually fairly smart,” Luke says. “And yet, I'm still struggling with this. You ran LitUp almost entirely alone for four years. And I come back to find out you've started a side project under a fake name? Because you felt like I was too involved for you to do what you wanted? I’m scratching my head here, Paul.”