Suspicions: A Twist of FateTears of Pride

by Lisa Jackson

  As the elevator took him upward he reflected on the position of the bank. Certainly it was salvageable. The first order of business was to plug the embezzling leak. Kane smiled to himself. Nothing would give him greater satisfaction than to deal with the woman who was attempting to steal money from the account holders of the bank. He’d already dealt with Cameron, just yesterday, and fired the bastard. Unfortunately Cameron hadn’t given Kane any clues as to the identity of his accomplice. Kane had underestimated the man. He had expected Cameron to crumble into a thousand pieces and give him any information he required in return for immunity from prosecution. But Cameron was made of sturdier stuff, it seemed.

  Cameron’s attitude had reinforced Jim’s opinion—the accomplice had to be a woman, someone Cameron cared enough about to try and protect. Kane hoped that there might be a clue in Mitch’s office, just one tiny shred of evidence as to the identity of the woman.

  The steel doors opened and Kane stepped into the dimly lit reception area of the legal department. As he was about to snap on the lights, he paused. Was it his imagination or was someone actually humming? His eyes swept the reception area and the adjoining offices until he saw the golden glow of a desk lamp illuminating a partially opened door. The humming continued, a soft womanly quality in its melodic tones. Kane’s mind speculated about the woman. Who would be here alone on a Saturday, early in the morning, when the bank was closed? Security personnel? A custodian? Unlikely.

  Kane smiled almost evilly to himself and left the hallway in darkness. Maybe for once he had gotten lucky. It was about time for his luck to change. Perhaps the job of finding Cameron’s accomplice was going to be much easier than he had first supposed. Stealthily he strode onward toward the beckoning doorway. His jaw tightened and he cautioned himself to be wary. It would be easy for a thief to cover her tracks if she was smart enough to realize that he could be suspicious of her. He would have to tread lightly. Silently he made his way to the door, unprepared for the scene that met his eyes.

  A small woman with thick black hair brushed loosely over her shoulders was sitting on the floor of the office. She sat cross-legged with her back to the door, and she was pouring over an enormous pile of open-faced legal documents and books. The office itself was an incredible tangle of notes, books and loose papers. The object of his inspection wasn’t what he had imagined. Wearing tight-fitting jeans and a bulky violet sweater that hid none of her soft curves, she was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t hear his entrance. A pair of reading glasses perched tentatively on the end of an upturned nose and a pencil caught behind one ear kept her hair from falling in her face. Absently, to herself, she continued humming. To Kane she appeared more like a college student preparing for final exams than a businesswoman, and she hardly looked the type who stole. There was a tranquil but nevertheless faintly disturbing beauty about the young woman.

  Kane’s reflexes hardened. No matter who this woman was, he had to force himself to keep his objectivity about her. Right now she had unwittingly assumed position number one on the list of embezzling suspects, and Kane couldn’t forget that fact. No matter how innocent or vulnerable she seemed, she was most likely to be the snag in the legal department. It didn’t matter that the elegant curve of her jaw conformed to her regal bearing, or that her obsidian hair shimmered with streaks of indigo…. Before he let his thoughts wander any further, he caught himself. The last thing he could afford at this point was to feel any interest in her whatsoever.

  He coughed to get her attention, and immediately she swung her startled head in his direction. Her eyes met his, and just for a moment he felt as if he was slipping into their lilac depths. Even over the top of her reading glasses, he could see that there was a tremor of fear in those luminous eyes, and involuntarily he wanted to reach out and comfort her. But he forced himself to remain standing, unwavering.

  Erin had been completely oblivious to anything other than her work, but a soft cough interrupted her thoughts. She whirled to face the intruding noise, half expecting to see a familiar face.

  “Mitch?” she called from habit.

  The man standing in the doorway was a stranger and a ripple of alarm broke over her. Her surprise was revealed by the barely concealed gasp. Whoever the tall man was, he had evidently been standing in the doorway for several minutes. He had been right over her, silently appraising her. The thought of his eyes traveling unrestricted over her made her uneasy, tense.

  “Were you expecting someone?” he asked.

  “Yes…no…you surprised me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the doorjamb, still watching her intently. He was a tall man, and even in his casual clothes Erin could tell that he was well-proportioned and lean. Strong, broad shoulders supported the expensive weave of his open sport coat. As he stood somewhat insolently, his supple legs strained against the light weight of his tan corduroy slacks. His hair was thick, burnished auburn, laced with traces of gold that gleamed in the warm light of the room. His face was tanned and angular to the point of being harsh, and his gray eyes held hers in a severe gaze that spoke of power and hinted at arrogance. For a moment neither spoke, and Erin felt the spark of electricity in the air.

  “May I help you?” Erin inquired in her most coolly professional voice. She guessed at the identity of the intruder and tried to present a calm and efficient demeanor to her new superior. It wasn’t an easy task, considering the fact that she was sitting cross-legged in a semicircle of legal documents. She rose as gracefully as possible, without letting her eyes waver from the calculating face of the man who just last night had fired Mitch.

  “You’re Miss O’Toole?” he continued his inquiry, not answering her question, and only breaking the power of his gaze by a glance at the carved nameplate on her desk.

  “That’s correct,” she agreed, for some reason unable to smile. “I assume you’re…Mr. Webster?”

  “Kane,” he suggested. His silvery eyes drove more deeply into hers and she could feel that he was watching her response, almost anticipating her reaction. “You were expecting me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then…you were waiting for Mitchell Cameron?”

  “I told you before, no.”

  “Then what exactly are you doing here?”

  She paused for a moment. It had to be evident that she was busy with legal work, didn’t it? Perhaps it was the way that he asked the question that made her feel a need for caution. “I was working.”

  “I can see that,” he scoffed, and for a minute a smile threatened to creep over his face. “But I guess my question should be more specific. Why are you working—” his eyes scanned the office “—seemingly alone, on a Saturday?”

  “I am alone!” Was he relieved? “And the reason that I’m here is that there has been a tremendous increase in my workload with the conversion to Consolidated,” she replied, but he didn’t seem to be listening. To her consternation he came into the room and casually hooked one leg over the desk corner, as if to remind her that he owned the place—literally.

  She felt a need to back away from him—to put a little space between his body and hers, but she ignored the temptation. Intuitively she knew that she couldn’t show him the least sign of vulnerability or weakness. The harshness in his attitude and his tight-lipped questions made her stiffen and become increasingly wary.

  “I see,” he mused as if he really didn’t. He tented his hands under his chin in a thoughtful and, in Erin’s opinion, overly dramatic pose. “Then you’re saying that you’re overworked?”

  “No…”

  “No?” He smiled broadly, but the grin didn’t light the cold depths of his eyes. “Then you must be inefficient,” he suggested.

  “I beg your pardon!” Erin blurted, the color draining from her face. What was he doing to her with all of these insane questions and inaccurate accusations?

  “Well, it has to be one or the other, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course not!” she rifled back
at him, and suddenly felt as if she had just swallowed a well-placed morsel of bait. He was toying with her for some reason, and it frightened her. To hide her nervousness she began stacking the legal volumes back on the shelf and tidying the scattered papers. She started to arrange her desk in brisk, sure movements, all the while aware that his eyes touched her face, her hands, her neck, her breasts….

  She pulled her attention back to him. “I explained that I had a little extra work to finish up. For some reason, that apparently irritates you. I had no intention of offending you so….”

  “You haven’t offended me.” His voice was softer.

  “Then what is it with you? I’m just trying to do a decent job, for your bank, I might add, and you march in here unannounced and start an interrogation!”

  “Have I been interrogating you?” he asked gently, and reached for her wrist.

  “You still are!” she retorted as his hand captured hers. His fingers were a warm, soothing manacle and her pulse began to heat with his touch. Her eyes flew to her wrist, to his eyes, to his fingers and back to his eyes. Then, as abruptly as he had reached for her, he let the hand drop. The intimate gesture had startled Erin, but the release was a disappointment. Unconsciously she drew away from him. He was too commanding, too powerful, and her response to him was too violent.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, and his dark brows drew together. “I didn’t mean to make our first meeting an inquisition. I didn’t expect to find anyone here today.”

  “Neither did I,” she breathed. “And that’s precisely why I came in—to work without interruption—from the telephone or…anything else.” Her breathing was still uneven; the man made her nervous. She tried to control herself and avoid overreacting.

  “Do you come in after hours often, Miss O’Toole?” Another question!

  “Only when I feel it’s necessary!” she responded cuttingly, and then feeling immediately contrite, added, “Please call me Erin. Everyone else does.”

  “Fair enough. I like to keep things on a personal level.”

  Erin’s black eyebrows shot skyward with his last remark, but she decided it would be wiser not to comment. She had only to remember his grip on her wrist and the storm of emotions that had seized her with his touch. She didn’t understand why she was overreacting to him, but she knew that it would be best to put distance between them.

  He rose to leave, and Erin felt the air slowly escape from her lungs. She needed time to collect herself, to be alone. However, before reaching the door he paused.

  “What was your relationship with Mitchell Cameron?” he asked.

  Erin swallowed hard and met the chill in Kane’s eyes. “He was my boss,” she replied curtly.

  “That’s all?” Kane’s angular face was tense, his jawline firm.

  Erin narrowed her eyes. “No…that isn’t all!” she said defiantly, watching his gray eyes grow a shade more calculating.

  “Somehow I didn’t think so.”

  “Mitchell Cameron is my friend. That fact won’t change, even if you did fire him!”

  “So you know about that,” he thought aloud. “Did Cameron tell you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did he explain why?”

  “I thought maybe you could answer that one.” Now she goaded him.

  Kane slammed the door closed, reversed his stride and came back to Erin’s desk. He planted his hands firmly on the polished surface and pushed his face to within inches of hers.

  “What exactly did he tell you, and when?”

  “I don’t really know if it’s any of your business,” she shot back at him. Why was he so angry with her? She didn’t understand it, but she felt her temper rise with his.

  As quickly as a cat springing, he reached out for her and pulled her face near to his. “Anything about this bank is my business!”

  “But Mitch doesn’t have anything to do with the bank anymore, does he?” she asked rhetorically. “You took care of that!”

  She felt his closeness, the warmth of his hand against her chin, the light pulse in the tip of his fingers, the heat and magnetism that seemed to radiate from him.

  “Why don’t you tell me about ‘your friend,’ Mitch,” he coaxed, and suddenly the fingers that had been rough became gentle. His thumb persuaded her to relax as it moved sensually along the line of her chin and jaw, stopping just short of her throat.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” she whispered, trying to think coherently and disregard the intimate persuasion of his hand.

  His eyes, flooded with passion, cooled. “Just how good friends are you?”

  “Good friends—just that,” she managed, and seeing the clinical hardness on his face, pushed his hand away, adding, “Nothing more. And I resent the implication.”

  “Implication?” he mocked.

  “That I sleep with him. That is what you were getting at, isn’t it?” she asked with a bitterness she couldn’t conceal. “Not all successful women sleep their way to the top!”

  “I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “You certainly did! I really don’t understand what all of these suggestive questions are about. I came in here to get some work done!” Erin began gathering the loose papers on her desk as she attempted to stem her anger. She knew it wouldn’t do anyone any good to let her temper surface, but she couldn’t help but feel a deep-seated resentment toward the man who had fired Mitch. She wondered fleetingly about her conflicting reactions to the man—his touch, his words—but she pushed those provocative thoughts aside as she snapped the desk drawer shut, locked it and retrieved her car keys from her purse.

  “I’m only trying to find out firsthand how the staff of this bank works,” he explained.

  “So that you can fire us all?” she rifled back at him.

  A twinkle lighted his steel-colored eyes. “Is that what you’re so upset over? You’re angry because I let Cameron go?”

  How could she explain that everything about him upset her, threw her off balance. “It’s really none of my business,” she admitted, her poise and professionalism back in place.

  “If it makes any difference to you, I have no immediate plans for—how shall I phrase it—restructuring the personnel of the bank. At least not until I see firsthand exactly how efficiently each department runs.”

  “Except in Mitch’s case,” Erin prodded, still confused.

  “Cameron was different, and as you so aptly stated, ‘it’s none of your business.’”

  Kane pressed his hands together and his lips thinned. “Do you make a practice of working here alone?”

  He prepared to analyze her response, but it seemed innocent. “Not usually. But as you must realize, Mitch had been wrapped up with your auditors and computer people.”

  “And you had to assume his duties alone?” Kane guessed.

  “Not entirely,” Erin conceded. “Olivia took over a few of Mitch’s clients…”

  “Olivia? Parsons? The executive secretary?”

  “She’s more than that. Actually an assistant officer,” Erin explained, thinking about the sultry woman who had once so openly flaunted her affair with Lee before the divorce was final.

  Kane’s eyes never left Erin’s face. He noticed the embarrassed burn on her cheeks, the furrowed brows and the slight droop of her shoulders. Something was definitely bothering Miss O’Toole, and he meant to find out exactly what it was. He noticed that she picked up her purse, a gesture that indicated that she intended to leave. She couldn’t, not yet.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Mr….Kane,” she requested. She started to walk past him, but his hand reached for her arm.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “That’s right,” she agreed but remained standing still, conscious only of the warm touch of his hand on her arm.

  He grimaced. “I was looking forward to having someone here while I set up my desk.”

  “But you didn’t expect anyone, did you?” she reminded him.

  “No, I didn’t. But s
ince you’re here, you might as well give me a rundown on exactly how this department functions—or at least the way it did in the past.”

  “Sorry—I’ve got plans this afternoon,” she lied. He was still touching her and the feeling was delicious, warm, inviting. The dimly lit room was beginning to close in on her, and she knew that she had to get away from him and clear her head.

  “What about tonight?” he persisted.

  “Still busy.” She smiled up at him but felt her lips begin to tremble. He eyed her curiously and she wanted to shrink away from him and melt into him all in the same motion. As if he understood her feelings, he pulled her a little more closely and asked his final invitation in a whisper, his breath fanning lightly across her face. “What about tomorrow?”

  Her eyes reached for his and she found it impossible to lie. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Come on,” he persuaded. “I’m new in town. You can show me the sights.”

  “I thought you wanted to discuss business….”

  “We will.”

  “I don’t date anyone I work with.” His eyes touched her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, her throat.

  “Don’t think of it as a date,” he murmured enigmatically. “Consider it…an orientation meeting.”

  “But…”

  “I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

  “No!”

  Kane released her. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he stated as if it were already a fact.

  She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But she found the strength to tear herself away from the imprisonment of his stare and walk out of the office with as much pride as she could muster. She wasn’t thinking clearly; her thoughts were tangled in a web of emotions. Her mind was as ragged as her breathing, and there was an impulse and yearning that she had never experienced in her lifetime.

  Once outside the building she hurried to her car and only paused to take in full, mind-clearing breaths of fresh air. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her keys. She kept telling herself that her reactions were bordering on insanity. She had met a man, a very attractive and charismatic man, under tense circumstances. The feelings that had flooded through her were merely a release of that tension—that was all.