Be Your Everything [All for Love] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Peri Elizabeth Scott

  “When’ll he be back?” Moesha cut right to the chase.

  “I don’t know that he will, Eesh. He and Mr. G were still closeted when I left for lunch. And I don’t know that I want him to come back. I don’t like this feeling. Seriously. It’s like I want to turn in my keyboard and live my life differently. How can that be?”

  “Honey, you worry too much. This Matthew Bourke just turned your crank and helped you see there’s a life out there, is all. Chemistry or something. We’ve all heard about it. If he comes back, then you look your fill. No harm in that. And who knows? You’re a pretty little thing.”

  “Right. And I’d want him to go slumming.”

  “Shut up with the bullshit, Heather. You’re as good as every other woman on the face of the earth and that should be your freaking mantra. Like yourself a little!”

  Heather had the absurd feeling she might cry. She rarely cried. Crying doesn’t get you anywhere, Heather. It only makes you look weak. Thanks, Mom. You should know. Weepy Wanda. Holy crap. Squaring her shoulders Heather smiled again, a real smile. Moesha squinted at her and smiled back. Whatever. This day had been just chock-full of surprises and Heather gave herself permission to pleasantly anticipate the afternoon. If Matthew came back, she’d look her fill again, advice taken. If not, she’d work on her college application. The opportunity to do both was mind-boggling. Excitement churned in her belly. From tears to joy. Insane. Like her mom. No, never like her mom.

  Her thoughts flashed back to Moesha admonishing her, insisting she was as good as every other woman. “But not as good as every man, Eesh?” She teased her liberated friend.

  “Honey, you don’t compare apples and oranges.”

  They finished their meal quickly. Heather averted her eyes from the blued steak Moesha inhaled with obvious relish and worked on her goat cheese spinach salad. She’d need to brush her teeth before returning to her desk. If Matthew was still liaising, she didn’t want to smile at him with green, leafy material stuck in her teeth.

  After a quick walk back to their building to catch the first available elevator, Moesha got off at her floor and Heather rode in silence with a few other employees to the fourteenth floor. She practised elevator etiquette with the best of them, peering at the numbers as they clicked off on the display, avoiding inadvertent eye contact. The door whooshed open and she stepped off, turning left to hurry to the ladies’ room. She didn’t dare be late. Mr. G wasn’t always on time, but she had left a few minutes early for lunch. Best to be back a few minutes early.

  After using the facilities Heather checked her teeth before locating the travel toothbrush she kept in her makeup bag. Her hair needed a little arranging and lipstick freshened. The woman staring back at her from the mirror didn’t look any different than the one she saw every day. But she felt different. Good grief. Romance novels. They’d softened her brain, and she was thinking seriously about college, moving on, and living her dream. And she might just dream about one Matthew Bourke, the night time kind of dreams. Heather already had the daytime one aced. She again felt as though she was on the cusp of something.

  Chapter Two

  “Please tell Mr. Topp I appreciate him sending you. And of course you are welcome at any time to examine the system. We owe it to our clients to make any improvements. I’ll have Heather give you what you’ll need.” Irritation laced Grayson’s tone.

  Manny, he reminded himself that he was Matthew Bourke in this role, might need more from Heather Graham than the other man would ever know. The file on Grayson’s secretary painted a typical secretarial type, working for Grayson only this past year or so, and unlikely to be aware of the situation. The fraud had been perpetuated over a longer time period, carefully and cautiously. If that young woman hadn’t been murdered…well, Grayson’s perfidy might never have been picked up on until he was on the run.

  Meeting Heather Graham in person once again demonstrated how file data rarely told the whole story. The black and white grainy photo hadn’t done her justice, either. Heather Graham looked immature, unformed in the picture, hesitant and shy. Manny Baker, aka Matthew Bourke, had dismissed her, or at least banished her to the back of the investigation. He never dismissed anyone totally.

  And after meeting her today, well, his senses pricked. If that sexy little siren with the so-at-odds innocent baby blues hadn’t come across that way in her paperwork, then she might just be more to Grayson than they thought. Him and Bryce. Manny and his partner had made some preliminary assumptions. Heather didn’t have any connection to Meredith Fox they could determine, not even a casual friendship outside or inside the office, but one never knew. He decided to test the waters.

  “Heather is your secretary? Has she worked for you for long?”

  Grayson checked his watch and immediately appeared distracted. “It’s nearly lunch time. I have a few things to tend to. Heather? She filled in for my other secretary and when she retired I had Heather come back full-time. She’s competent, if disinterested, and level-headed, which I approve of. And she follows my rules.”

  Disinterested. Really. The last thing Manny would call Heather Graham was disinterested. A little odd perhaps, but not disinterested. That woman paid attention. Despite how subtle her observations were, he had no doubt she’d know him again, just as he’d know her. Her faint lavender fragrance piqued his senses once he’d placed it. Heather wasn’t beautiful at first glance and maybe not at the second, but he’d watched her work and catalogued every visible inch of her. And not just because he was trained to do it. She was intriguing, and that went deeper than beauty.

  Pale, nearly translucent skin, finely grained like porcelain first caught the eye. Those dark-blue eyes tilted upward at the corners and danced with mirth, belying her sedate appearance and something he couldn’t yet label. A mass of dark blonde hair was casually clipped on top of her head toward the back of her crown, and wispy tendrils drifted around her cheeks, drawing attention to the sweet curve of her nape. He experienced an absurd urge to press a kiss right there.

  Heather had a short little nose above a full upper lip, a duck mouth, Manny thought it was called. The faint impression of an overbite poked his libido, and when her little white teeth worried at her slender bottom lip he’d itched to soothe the mark with his tongue and maybe some other body part best unnamed. Shit. Focus. He wasn’t going to think about the apple-size breasts covered by a soft blue sweater, or the rounded ass beneath the modest black skirt. Or the way her calves flexed and flowed into the tidiness of her ankles above slender feet tucked into shiny black pumps with peep toes. Nuts.

  He thanked Grayson and wondered that the man hadn’t seen the spirit simmering in his secretary. If Heather Graham blithely followed the rules, Manny would eat his thoughts. He’d eat them anyhow, because this was a serious investigation and if Heather Graham wasn’t pertinent to the case, he didn’t need to get close to her. He bet she had Grayson’s number and spun circles around him.

  “I won’t ask you to join me for lunch, Bourke. Prior commitments. But Heather can recommend a place, I’m sure. Or perhaps she can take you. I’ll see you this afternoon at some point.”

  Manny followed Grayson into the outer office, quietly elated at the idea of Heather Graham acting as his personal guide. It wouldn’t hurt to have a pseudo spy in Grayson’s camp, although he’d have to be careful. It was a big city, but people knew him here, and not as a tech rep from out of town. He stared at the empty desk. No Heather. Both he and Grayson checked their watches in a parody of synchronism. Manny was certain his face sported the same expression of chagrin, if for a different reason.

  “I suppose it’s close enough to twelve,” Grayson muttered. “Heather usually waits for me and we leave together. She’s probably meeting up with that friend of hers from Accounting Services.”

  The distaste in Grayson’s voice was evident and Manny filed it away. The man wasn’t oblivious to what went on around him after all, so maybe it was Heather Manny read incorrectly. And why was he fo
cusing on her? Grayson was the priority. He held a responsible, important position and despite his calm, professorial manner, the guy also paid attention. He wasn’t just about the dry-as-dust data and statistics. Grayson held the purse strings, too, which made him front and center in the investigation. He had access to everything, and Meredith Fox had been his personal assistant. Murdered Meredith Fox. All evidence pointed to Grayson, and Manny was determined to stop the man.

  Ignoring his disappointment about Heather’s unavailability, Manny reminded himself he’d be back this afternoon to get the passwords and other necessary information in person, and would get his time with her.

  “It’s actually twelve, according to my watch.” He would save Heather a hassle if he could. Damn it. He didn’t need to save anybody. “Staff tend to connect, I imagine.”

  Grayson stared at him. Manny didn’t like the expression clouding the older man’s narrow face or the way his pale blue eyes narrowed. What had he said?

  “Heather doesn’t gossip, Bourke. If she does, she’s gone.”

  “But they work for the same company,” Manny protested. What the hell? Grayson morphed into something nasty and Manny shouldn’t be surprised if what they suspected was true. Gilbert Grayson was probably running the biggest fraud caper ever known to the insurance company he worked for and was responsible for the death of his personal assistant.

  Grayson relaxed, clearly commanding his tense frame to let go, starting at his neck, all the way down his thin body frame, and visibly forced a smile. It was a fascinating thing to observe and underscored Manny’s reminder to self to be cautious around the other man. “Of course. I’m a private person, you understand.”

  Manny didn’t, but he sensed someone who was on the edge of something unpredictable. The man was drawn too tightly, and in Manny’s experience that usually signified one thing. Grayson was close to reacting in some unpredictable manner. Manny would forego lunch and check in with Bryce. He needed to see if there was more information available. His partner was meeting with the locals and three or more heads were sometimes better than one. He glanced toward Heather’s desk. Tidy. Hell, empty, bare like Grayson’s office. Nothing personal except for a luxuriously leafed plant positioned to get the best possible light from the window. Nice. It made the space a tad less impersonal. He couldn’t imagine someone like Heather in a cubicle with fabric walls. And how the hell did he think he knew who Heather Graham was and what would suit her?

  * * * *

  “So you either made an impression or Grayson has his own sleuth!” Bryce Olsen’s tone was teasing, but held an undertone of concern.

  “What d’ you mean?” Manny helped himself to the pizza sitting on the conference table. He tore off a piece. It was cold and he’d hoped for a better meal, but carbs and protein were carbs and protein. Kinda. Bryce didn’t have anything more on Grayson, but he’d arranged this room and got them temporary badges and key cards so they could come and go from the police station without being challenged. They fit in with the other cops a bit more comfortably than Manny would have liked. He worried the persona would start to leak over into his undercover work and he’d be more easily made, that people would see past his role and find the investigator.

  “The secretary checked you out on the company personnel roster five minutes after you got there. I ghosted her activity. Getting into Grayson’s computer should be so easy. The man’s got some kind of security add-on, something the company hasn’t approved. And we can’t challenge him or he’ll know we’re onto him. He’s the one, Manny, no doubt about it. All the other candidates have been ruled out.”

  Manny passed over the latter part of Bryce’s comment—he’d already come to that conclusion. He swallowed and nearly choked on the chunk of chewy dough. Heather checked him out? He fought a smile. Bryce might be correct. Heather Jean Graham, nearly thirty-one, blonde over blue, five foot three, one hundred and six pounds, no identifying marks or…okay, he’d made that up. He’d like to determine the latter for himself, though. Did she have a childhood scar or two? A beauty mark? A tattoo? And where might she have them? And how did she come to get them? He gave his head a tiny shake. Focus. This isn’t about getting Heather Graham into bed.

  Anyway, she might have Grayson’s back. Nah. Grayson didn’t like her, disparaged her subtly, in fact. Unless it was a clever cover. Shit. Too many unknowns. And she was checking up on him. Looked like he would have to get closer to her after all. It was a tough job but somebody had to do it.

  “Do you have a sense about her?” Bryce looked at him with a quizzical expression as McAllister, the assigned local detective, approached them.

  Manny had an unprofessional urge to protect Heather from McAllister. The detective was a good cop, competent as evidenced by his case closures, but was a bulldozer. No social skills. He’d roll right over Heather, or try to, and the fallout wasn’t something Manny wanted to see. He dropped his left eyelid and Bryce’s expression instantly changed to mild inquiry and he shuffled the file papers in front of him. No computer screens for Bryce when they put their heads together. He liked the feel of paper and the ability to spread it out in front of him. Bryce worked better that way, though he understood computers very well, very well indeed.

  “Anything new?” McAllister scanned the contents of the pizza box and curled his lip. Probably had sprouts for lunch or something.

  “I’m in. Grayson didn’t hesitate. The prep worked well. And he’s telling his secretary to give me anything I need.” No double entendre intended but Manny could dream. “Except he might be getting ready to shut it down and run with it. Just a feeling, maybe because head office sent me. He’ll be sensitive. Probably settle once he thinks it through.” He hoped.

  “Well, we’ve done everything we can from the outside. The security cameras gave us enough of a description to go on. We’ll be able to put things together, find the knife, maybe. It’s just taking some time because of the quality of the tape, and the prick had some kind of hood over his face. Getting search warrants hasn’t been possible. If you can tie Grayson up in the interim, buy us some time…” McAllister glowered off into the distance.

  Manny wondered if it would be that easy, but this was McAllister’s city. Manny had lived here for years, grew up here, moving east to attend college. He was hired by Jameson and Company’s parent company almost immediately upon graduating. He and Bryce investigated insurance fraud all over the country and they revelled in the work. People’s greed and subsequent machinations to acquire wealth never failed to intrigue him. But this latest fraud was in-house. Everything pointed to Grayson, or at least he was smack in the middle of the web, like a gray, malevolent spider. Money was the least of it. A young woman lost her life and her murder appeared linked to the fraud. It was linked. He believed it. He possessed a sense for these things and he’d witnessed a cold core in Grayson.

  “I’m heading back. Let’s see how things shake down. I’ll spend the afternoon at Grayson’s office and we can meet back at the hotel.”

  Bryce nodded. “Dinner?”

  Manny cut his eyes to McAllister before looking at his partner. “Don’t wait on me. I want to get into this as quickly as I can, check with some of the staff. I’ll stop by your room later.”

  McAllister appeared oblivious but Bryce looked at him and quirked that damn brow. “Right.”

  Manny wiped his mouth and hands on a paper napkin and stood. He’d stop by the men’s room and get cleaned up. It wouldn’t do to breathe pizza all over Heather or get greasy fingerprints on her. Not that he’d likely have a lot of acceptable opportunities to touch her.

  * * * *

  Her office was empty and Mr. G’s door tightly closed. Heather listened outside of it for a moment but heard nothing, so surmised he’d gone for lunch. The man never missed a lunch break, and always had things to do, places to go, maybe people to see, although never shared any specific information with her. Heather stuffed her purse in her drawer once she made the little key work the lock open,
and turned her computer on. The system accepted her passwords and she pulled up her college application from a personal folder, typing rapidly. She had maybe four minutes until her lunch break was officially over and was determined to use it all.

  “Good afternoon.” Damn it! Heather carefully backspaced to delete the indecipherable scramble of letters. It was unlikely the registrar’s office could interpret her address as being 31SlditlnnG. She composed herself and looked up at Mr. Moves Like the Silent Wind.

  “Hello again, Mr. Bourke.” He looked even better in the afternoon. Maybe mornings weren’t his best time. Maybe he preferred to sleep in a little and stretch lazily before—oh, there she went again. Sponge brain. There was a tiny spot of red on his white button-down shirt. Right about where his muscled left pec was covered by the fabric. Lunch. Pizza sauce? Spaghetti? She resisted the urge to sniff. She’d turned into a ravening, slathering beast. No, that didn’t sound right. Beast wasn’t exactly feminine. Wench. That was it. But ravening and slathering still described her. His dark pants still fit admirably, the thin, leather belt cinching his waist perfect against the material. And she’d be speculating about boxers or briefs in a minute.

  “Mr. Grayson isn’t back yet. Would you like to take a seat, or do you have a specific appointment time?” There was her professional secretary’s voice! Heather smiled in what she sincerely hoped was a cool, collected manner.

  “Actually, Mr. Grayson wants you to set me up with the passwords for the system and give me a hand. He hoped you could point me in the direction of some places to eat, too. Maybe let me tag along, but I missed you by a couple of minutes.”

  Holy crap. She kept her smile and nodded, and kept nodding like one of those bobble head dogs. Three nods for three requests. Enough already. “I’ll have to get that from Mr. Grayson,” she said apologetically.