To Laney, With Love

by Joyce Sullivan

  With a lightning-fast movement, he captured her hand, his fingers warm and strong around hers. “Hey, that’s my breakfast,” he declared.

  Laney sucked in her breath as he drew her hand to his mouth and removed the speck of powder from her fingertip with a flick of his tongue. For a moment she forgot everything but the brief sensation of his tongue and its erotic aftershock on her body. Her legs wobbled. Ben released her hand and she plopped down in her chair before she made a fool of herself. Anyone could see he was just kidding around.

  Laney helped herself to coffee and drizzled maple syrup over her French toast. With any luck at all, they’d be returning to Ottawa soon and this suitesharing would end. She was just polishing off the bowl of fresh fruit Ben had ordered for her when the phone rang.

  Ben passed it to her. It was McBain. His voice boomed a greeting over the line, then sobered. “The lab just phoned in the results of the comparison on the dental records. As I think we both anticipated, they’ve confirmed that Reese Dobson and Graham Walker were the same man. We’ll hold the news to give you time to notify your little boy and other relatives, then we’ll make it public.”

  “Thank you, Corporal.” Laney glanced at Ben. “We’ll head back on the first flight we can get, unless you have any objection.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when McBain told her he had no objection, but to keep him apprised of her whereabouts in the event he needed to contact her. “Is there any other news regarding Dallyn Vohringer?” she asked.

  “No, not yet. Could be he’s holed up somewhere, but he’ll surface, given time. By the way, Mrs. Walker confirmed that her husband kept an electronic notebook. It hasn’t turned up yet, though. It’s possible the killer took it. But the chalet will be thoroughly searched again today to make sure we haven’t missed it.”

  Laney thanked the corporal and carefully hung up the phone, staring pensively at it. Reese had died four days ago. There was no more room for denials or putting things off. She felt Ben’s hand settle on her shoulder and the compassionate weight of it brought comfort against the difficult task ahead. The time had come to tell Josh the truth about his father.

  THEY MANAGED to get tickets on the first flight east Friday morning, deciding to make a slight detour to Toronto so they could talk to some of Reese’s former co-workers at CDN Investments. Ottawa was an easy hour’s flight away from Toronto. Laney figured she could be home in time to tuck Josh into bed, provided the weather cooperated.

  But snow flurries delayed their landing in Toronto. They checked their luggage at the airport and took a taxi through slippery, clogged streets to CDN’s offices in the heart of Canada’s financial district. Reports of potential road closures sent workers hurrying home early. The modern, glass-walled towers on Bay Street—where just about every other building was a bank—resembled ice-cube trays in a winter wonderland. Laney much preferred the quaint clock tower and green copper spire of the Old City Hall at the end of the street.

  Laney needn’t have worried that Yale Sheridan wouldn’t see her. Within minutes of asking, they were shown into the portfolio manager’s corner office with its commanding view of the city under winter’s siege. But all Yale Sheridan’s attention was focused on the TV screens and masses of reports, newspapers and computer printouts stacked all over his office and on the floor, his razor-sharp, blue-green eyes giving the impression of missing nothing. The sense that every decision made in this room could result in profit or loss for the company’s investors filled the air with palpable tension.

  Laney had only met Sheridan on a few occasions, including Reese’s memorial service, but she knew all about the legendary manager who kept CDN’s investors in a state of financial bliss. Just shy of his fortieth birthday, Sheridan dealt with the pressure of being a star manager with a confident aura that could be downright intimidating. Though he rarely sported a tie with his tailored linen shirts, he had a fondness for suspenders. As he set aside a newspaper article he’d been reading and rose to greet them, she noted with amusement that his burgundy suspenders were patterned with the polar-bear design of the two-dollar coin.

  Frank curiosity gleamed in his eyes as he extended his hand. “Laney, good to see you.”

  Laney introduced Ben and quickly got on with the reason for her visit. “I know the police have been to see you, so I won’t go into unnecessary explanation. The long and the short of it is that dental records have positively confirmed Reese was the man who was murdered in the chalet in Whistler last Sunday. They believe he staged his death in the avalanche.”

  Sheridan bowed his head and rubbed the knuckle of his thumb against his brow as though contemplating the ramifications of her words. “I’m so sorry,” he said after a pause. “How upsetting for you this must be. Has the news been publicly released yet? I haven’t seen anything—”

  “Not for a day or two. I have some family to notify first,” she replied, trying not to think of Josh.

  Sheridan paced a path through the paper maze on the floor. “I appreciate your keeping me up-to-date. I’ll inform our PR department. We’ll probably receive a few calls from the media once the news airs. Better to be prepared.” He stopped pacing abruptly, his eyes pinpointing her. “As far as we’re concerned, this is a police matter. Reese left our employ fourteen months ago.”

  Laney nodded. “I understand.” Yale Sheridan’s cautious stance was to be expected. CDN would do whatever it could to distance itself from the scandal that would result from Reese’s bigamy and murder. But Sheridan didn’t know all the facts. She took a deep breath for courage and plunged in. “Still, something must have precipitated Reese’s decision to abandon his career and his family. I have reason to believe that he may have been involved in illegal trading activities in Vancouver using information he gained while under employment at this firm.”

  Sheridan frowned as though he was already feeling pressure from the firm’s investors, wondering if something shady was going on at CDN. Not to mention the Ontario Securities Commission launching a full investigation. “Do you have any proof?”

  Laney glanced at Ben and wondered if she should mention Reese’s electronic notebook, then decided against it. “No. It’s only speculation at this point.”

  “I can’t speak for what Reese may or may not have done once he disappeared after the accident. Having changed his identity, he may have felt safe enough to take...certain risks. However, I may be able to provide some insight into why he may have decided to disappear at that particular time—and I mentioned this to the police. The fact of the matter is... Reese probably would have received his traveling papers had he not disappeared. He’d exercised some lousy judgment on a couple of recommendations and there just isn’t room in this business for errors.”

  Shame stung Laney’s cheeks. Had Reese suspected he was about to be fired and had run away from failing? Or had his work slipped because he was involved with Kristel in British Columbia? Laney’s face grew hotter as she asked for permission to view Reese’s personnel file so that she could double-check the dates of certain vacations he took. She wanted to know precisely how long Reese had been deceiving her.

  “Say no more,” Sheridan said with a compassionate nod. “My sister went through a similar phase when she found out her first husband was cheating on her. Once she knew all the details, she was able to move on. She’s married to a great guy now. They just had twins.” He reached for the phone and called Personnel to pull the file.

  “You were quiet in there,” Laney murmured to Ben out in the corridor, after Yale Sheridan had sent them on their way with instructions on how to get to the personnel department.

  Laney felt Ben’s blue-black gaze skim over her, from her toes to her nose, and felt a sharp response of awareness deep inside her when his gaze met hers square on. His eyes seemed to draw her in like a midnight-blue sky, fierce in its beauty, yet cloaked in secrets. Making her want to be party to his thoughts, a part of him. But he held her back from the muscled length of his body, his fingers digging
into her upper arms. “Do you really need to know how long Reese was deceiving you?”

  Laney couldn’t tell if he meant to shake some sense into her or wrap his arms around her in pity. Not that she’d mind either one, as long as he continued to look at her like that. Liar, she told herself. She’d mind the pity.

  “No,” she said candidly, feeling a smile blossom on her lips. “That all seems like water under the bridge now. I just thought this might be another way to prove how long Reese may have known Kristel.”

  “Good. Just checking.”

  Ben’s eyes narrowed and drifted down to settle on her lips. Laney drew in a sharp breath and froze as threads of desire twined a sensuous route through her body. Was he going to kiss her?

  Oh, Lord. To her woe, she realized she wanted him to. Needed him to. Mistake or no, her lips parted as she anticipated his assault, blood thrumming in her ears.

  But the ding of the elevator bell broke the spell. Ben released her and lunged for the door as though a rabid dog were on his heels. Laney let loose a ragged breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and finger-combed her hair with shaky fingers. Thanks heavens she’d be home alone in her own bed tonight, she thought, standing as far away from Ben’s compelling presence as she could without looking impolite.

  The elevator doors slid open on the sixteenth floor and she hurried out, eager to put some breathing space between her and Ben. A large manila envelope was waiting for them at the reception desk in personnel. Laney gave the receptionist the names of some of the analysts Reese had worked with during on-site inspections. Two were in the building.

  They tracked Marv Shelton down in his office. The room reeked of cigarette smoke. He waved for them to enter, then pulled an overflowing ashtray from the bottom drawer of his metal filing cabinet and extracted a still-smoking cigarette.

  His chair creaked as he leaned the full weight of his heavy frame into it. Laney gave him an abbreviated version of the facts of Reese’s rise and return to the dead. “Yale Sheridan told me Reese may have disappeared because he was close to being fired.”

  “Let’s put it this way, Laney, no disrespect intended,” Marv said, punctuating his words with wild jabs of his cigarette. “Reese made a couple of poor decisions. He put his reputation on the line when he went against the advice of the team on Carmen Industries and Three Rivers and the investors paid heavily for it. He made Yale look bad and Yale doesn’t hand out too many second chances. Some of our investors followed Yale here because of his ability to make savvy decisions. They might pull their investments if they thought Yale was losing his touch.”

  Pull their investments? Ben grew still as a theory slowly formed in his brain like a wooden puzzle being examined and assembled piece by piece. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a good idea to be talking to Yale Sheridan’s employees. He caught Laney’s attention and glanced pointedly at his watch. “I think we’d better be on our way or we’ll miss our flight.”

  Her delicate auburn-gold brows drew together, signaling her bewilderment, but she accepted the hint and rose. “Thanks for your help, Marv. Please give your wife my best wishes.”

  “You might want to call the airport first,” Marv added helpfully. “I heard flights were being canceled because of the blizzard.”

  Laney was full of questions when Ben herded her out into the corridor.

  “Shh!” he cautioned her. Cradling her face in his palm, he whispered an explanation in her ear and felt her turn to marble. Ben tried not to think how vulnerable she seemed with her cold pale flesh and those wide blue eyes that had reflected far too much pain lately. What if Sheridan talked to the receptionist in personnel and learned Laney had asked to speak to other people?

  Fear lodged deep in his belly and radiated out to his limbs. If Yale Sheridan had become suspicious of Reese’s conveniently timed death and gone to such extreme lengths to set up Laney in order to deal with the threat Reese posed to the investment firm and Sheridan’s reputation there was no telling what he might feel compelled to do to keep them from asking further questions. He was a brilliant strategist.

  They couldn’t get out of the building fast enough as far as Ben was concerned.

  Even then, he kept a secure grip on Laney’s hand and glanced over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure they weren’t being followed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ben tensed at the knock on the hotel-room door, then felt the muscles in his neck relax when he glanced through the peephole and saw a pimply-faced bellboy with their room-service order.

  He and Laney had entered and exited half a dozen hotels in an effort to lose any possible pursuers. When they’d stopped running long enough to call the airport from a pay phone, they’d learned their flight had been cancelled because of the snowstorm. They were stuck in Toronto for the night. Ben picked the best hotel in the city figuring they had top-notch security and made it clear when he registered that he wished his presence in the hotel to remain anonymous. He’d called McBain once they were safely in their room and he felt moderately better for having voiced his suspicions about Sheridan. But the corporal was three thousand miles away. And Ben sensed he was holding something back. Maybe McBain was just frustrated with the case, a feeling to which Ben could relate.

  Ben knew he wouldn’t feel at ease until the police had Reese’s killer locked up. Laney would be back under her own roof tomorrow, out of his protection. The fear that something could go terribly wrong burrowed under Ben’s skin and set his teeth on edge. And then there were the boys and his mom. What if they were dragged into this, too? Ben passed the bellboy a tip and wheeled the cart into the room himself, checking to make sure the door was bolted properly. There was no sign of anyone loitering in the hall.

  “Find anything interesting?” Ben asked, stationing the cart near a table and two armchairs occupying a corner of the room. Laney was lying on her stomach on the bed, propped up on her elbows, studying the pages detailing Reese’s vacation requests over the twelve years of his employment with CDN. A different kind of frustration reared in his groin as his gaze skimmed over her shapely legs and pert bottom, clothed in a second skin of Windsor-blue leggings. A matching lamb’s-wool sweater shaped her full breasts and nipped at the curve of her waist.

  Neither of them had luggage. The thought that they each might have to strip down and sleep in beds set three feet apart teased his imagination. She looked up, nearly catching him in the act of appraising the delights of her body. Ben glimpsed uncertainty swirling in her expressive eyes. So, she had found something interesting in those papers. Ben waited patiently, wanting her to know she could trust him with whatever she had found.

  She bit her lip and Ben saw the imprint of her teeth on the sensitive skin. “I’m not sure. Maybe my doubts are making me paranoid or motherhood has fogged my memory, but I think Reese took several vacations I knew nothing about. Maybe he’s known Kristel a lot longer than we think. Of course, some of these dates are years ago. Maybe I’ve just forgotten.”

  Or Reese had cheated on her with other women. Hearing the forced breeziness of her tone when he knew she was hurting inside, Ben’s fingers tightened on the stainless-steel dome covering her plate.

  Emotions jammed in his throat. He set the lid aside and the smell of stir-fried chicken and vegetables filled their room. “Maybe if you have something to eat, the food will stimulate your brain cells.”

  “You’re right.” She clambered off the bed, graceful as a kitten, and Ben was aware of her every movement as she adjusted her sweater over her hips and helped him arrange the food on the table. He turned on the radio to a soft-rock station, hoping a bit of music would lighten the atmosphere.

  It didn’t. Some dumb song about a love gone miserably wrong.

  Some encouragement.

  As he cut into his steak, Ben noticed Laney was only pushing her food around on her plate. Ben felt tension clamp around his lungs as he watched her struggle to hide her feelings and battled his own painful need to offer her a
ll the things a man was meant to offer a woman: love, comfort, protection, security and fidelity. She had enough to deal with right now without him unburdening himself.

  Say something, make conversation, his mind urged. He talked about the boys and the hockey game they were playing tonight. “They should be home by now. I thought I’d call to see how they played. The Senators are tough to beat.”

  “Let me call,” Laney insisted, jumping up from the table. “I need to talk to Josh anyway.”

  Her voice wavered and Ben stuck a chunk of steak in his mouth and chewed hard. Tears, damn it. She was on the brink of tears and trying hard to salvage her pride.

  He chewed even harder as he listened to her talk to Josh, her voice falsely cheerful as she informed her son she’d be home tomorrow and had presents for him and Scott stowed in her luggage. Her back was to him, head down, her shoulders hunched in a dejected slump, but Ben could see the quivering of her fingers where she hugged herself around her waist. It was all he could do not to rip the phone out of the wall and tell her Reese wasn’t worth this waste of her emotions.

  Then, via the mirror over the dresser, he witnessed a glistening tear slide down the pale curve of her cheek. She hastily wiped it away with the tip of her finger. Ben choked down his mouthful of steak. Their gazes collided in the mirror when she hung up the phone. The look in her eyes hit him with the force of a sledgehammer: her misery, her shame, her self-doubts, her worries about Josh.

  “Oh, God, Ben. Josh is never going to understand this...how can he—when I don’t even understand?”

  Ben’s feelings detonated. Pain split his chest as he bolted out of his chair. His fingers sunk into the softness of her lamb’s-wool sweater as the first sob wracked her body. He pulled her close, his fingers splaying over her back, gently touching, gently reaffirming that her body was made to nestle up against his. There was no stopping his feelings now. He pressed a protective kiss on the top of her head and inhaled the scent of her silky auburn hair, filling his senses and his heart with Laney.