She parked the stroller by her office window, where she could keep watch over Alex. She sat, overlooking the courtyard, on one of a pair of Georgian mahogany library armchairs with a padded back, armrests and seat. Sandy sat fidgeting in the matching chair.
“Sandy, I need your help to fill in the gaps. Did I build this firm from scratch?”
“You inherited Classy Creations and the house you live in from your uncle three years ago.”
Chelsea couldn’t recall the man’s name or face. She experienced no sorrow for a stranger she couldn’t remember. “Were we close?”
“I don’t know. After he died in his sleep, you took over the firm.”
“Did I work here before then?”
Sandy nodded, her gaze flitting about the room like a fly searching for a safe place to land. “As an assistant account executive.”
So, due to her inheritance, Chelsea had jumped from assistant to company president. Could someone resent her inheritance or her sudden change in status at the firm? Judging from the state of her finances, she’d not done such a good job of running Classy Creations. Recalling her lavishly decorated home, she wondered if she’d sucked too much cash from the firm’s operating capital. “Did I run the business into the ground? Why are we almost bankrupt?”
“Your uncle had been content with the small breadand-butter accounts, local car dealers, the neighborhood real-estate franchises. You went after bigger clients.”
“And?”
Sandy stared at her tea, avoiding her gaze. After a long pause, she picked up her cup and saucer from the table, rubbed the table free of nonexistent rings and spoke carefully. “You won some and lost some.”
“I don’t understand. Surely the success of a firm this size doesn’t depend on one assistant account executive boosted to the presidency?”
“Last year you pulled everyone off the small accounts to work on your pitch to TRH.” A hint of resentment entered Sandy’s tone.
Chelsea’s business decision shouldn’t have caused such strong discontent in a secretary. She filed the thought away for future reference.
TRH was a huge conglomerate that encompassed everything from food products to farm equipment to the latest in computer technology. “And we didn’t land TRH?”
“We won the contract…but we underbid. It’s been a loss leader. A prestigious one, but we are in desperate need of cash to continue operations.”
“And my vice president, Martin Tinsdale? What did he have to say about this huge commitment to TRH?”
Sandy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He disagreed with you.”
“And?”
“You fired him.” Sandy’s lips compressed to a tight line of disapproval. Her tea sloshed into her saucer.
Was Chelsea an ogre? Or was the issue clouded by her possibly biased secretary? “Sandy, tell me I didn’t fire the man only for disagreeing with me?”
“There were many disagreements.”
The telephone threat echoed in her memory. Maybe her ex-vice president thought she owed him. Maybe he took exception to her inheritance and subsequent promotion to owner. Had Chelsea found her enemy? The firm’s former vice president must have resented being fired by a former account assistant. “Where is Martin Tinsdale now?”
Sandy placed the saucer on the end table, picked up the cup and placed a napkin in the spilled tea. “He’s fifty-five years old. At his age, he’s had difficulty finding another job.”
Martin Tinsdale was still on Chelsea’s mind when she strapped Alex into the back seat of the cab at the end of a long day. Sandy had given her a rundown on each employee, but from her temperamental art director, Mick, to her in-house accountant, Walter Brund, to the lowly copy editor, Vanessa Wells, the girl she’d met on the way to the elevator, no one seemed to have a motive to dislike her as much as Martin Tinsdale.
Except maybe the Carpenters. She needed to find out more about Anne’s stepsister. She or her husband could have made the threatening call last night.
A small shudder crept down her back. How many enemies would crawl out of the woodwork of her past?
The cab took a corner, bringing her thoughts to more-immediate concerns. Chelsea glanced over her shoulder. The same gray Toyota that had been parked in front of her office building seemed to be following them. In the fading light of dusk and the heavy traffic, she couldn’t be sure, but the hairs on her nape prickled.
She’d intended to ride home, shower and change before meeting Jeff. But going home, alone, to her empty house had lost all appeal. In fact, as the Toyota passed a car and slipped directly behind the cab, the idea of returning to her isolated house sent a chill down her spine.
“Driver,” she called to the front of the cab, her gaze darting back to the Toyota, “do you think that car is following us?”
“Which car, lady?”
“The Toyota.”
“Don’t know. If you’re mixed up in any funny business, I don’t want to be involved. How about you get out here?”
Lord, that’s all she needed. For the driver to strand her with the baby along the interstate in the middle of nowhere.
Although her heart beat a staccato, she forced herself to sound calm. “I must have been mistaken. But look, I’m running late. I need to go directly to the Crab Cafe.”
The cab pulled a U-turn at the next intersection.
So did the Toyota.
Chapter Six
She’d escaped again.
Chelsea Connors may have survived a blow to her head and the attack with a hypodermic, but she wouldn’t be as lucky this time. Restless hands polished the toaster until it gleamed as bright as the freshly washed floor, then moved on to scrape a trace of grease from the stove.
The superior little bitch hadn’t been alone with the baby last night. But she couldn’t have slept well after hearing the threatening whisper. If she only knew the plan, she’d savor these waking hours—her last.
Like the dirt that must be vanquished, Chelsea Connors must die—tonight, before she regained her memories and recalled what she had seen.
Soon she would sleep.
Forever.
CHELSEA HURRIEDLY PAID and tipped the driver before he slowed in front of the trendy restaurant. Strains from a jazz band floated outside. The scrumptious scent of fresh-baked bread and grilled seafood would have whetted her appetite if she hadn’t been so upset with whether the Toyota still followed her.
Eyes darting, she surveyed the restaurant, noting it attracted couples rather than a singles crowd. She waited for a chatting group of people to stroll from the parking lot to the café’s sidewalk before exiting the cab, converting the car seat back to a stroller and trying to lose herself among them. She pushed Alex briskly through the double doors without looking back.
Already crowded, the restaurant was filled with couples, the casual drinkers on the back patio and the more senous ones bellying up to the polished art-deco bar inside.
Glancing at her watch, she realized it was only sixtwenty. She couldn’t expect Jeff to arrive until seven. But she should be safe amid so many people. And she should have time to feed Alex before dinner.
Chelsea asked for a rear booth in the nonsmoking section and informed the hostess that the other member of her party had yet to arrive. She saw no one suspicious and glanced down at Alex. He’d been so little trouble today, but she knew she couldn’t count on him to always be so well behaved.
The hostess indicated a booth in a corner, and Chelsea converted the stroller back to a baby seat, lifted Alex onto it and scooted in beside him.
“You’ve been such a good boy,” she crooned.
She needed to make child-care arrangements. And yet she didn’t feel it would be safe to leave him when she suspected the Carpenters might have been behind the phone call last night. Horror numbed her at the possibility the baby might be what the caller had threatened to collect. The thought of losing Alex wrenched at her until she had to force her shoulders to relax.
“I’m
going to take good care of you,” she promised the baby.
She’d never know if it was the dim, multicolored overhead lighting, the sound of her voice or intestinal gas, but Alex smiled, his dimples deepening in his cherubic face. He gurgled and waved his chubby arms, and she stared at him with fascination, barely noticing the muted conversations or movements around her.
“Oh, you gorgeous little boy. When you grow up, I’m going to have to chase the girls away.”
A deep, rich chuckle sounded by her ear, and she looked up, startled. When she recognized Jeff and his laughter, a warm glow encapsulated her..
“Hi.” Jeff planted a kiss on her brow.
“You’re early.” She inhaled bay rum cologne and drank in the feeling of safety at his nearness.
Yet there was nothing safe about the cocky gleam in Jeff’s bold glance. He took the seat across from her and ordered drinks, looking more handsome than he had a right to after what she assumed was a long, trying day at the hospital. He’d found time to change his clothes. The casual maroon V-necked sweater over a matching shirt contrasted with the teal of his sparkling eyes.
And suddenly the thought of the Toyota following her faded like yesterday’s nightmare. Deciding not to say anything that she couldn’t prove, especially since Jeff didn’t believe someone had tried to kill her at the hospital, she lifted Alex out of his seat with a grin. “Did you see Alex smile at me? And his dimples deepened.”
“Dimples are an imperfection,” Jeff said teasingly.
Praying for the strength to resist his virile appeal, at least until she regained her memories, she kidded him right back, yearning for more light moments like this. “How dare you tell me my child isn’t perfect in every way.”
Jeff held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Alex is perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so.” She chuckled, removed the bottle of formula she’d warmed before leaving Classy Creations and popped it between Alex’s eager lips. “I love the soft feel of his skin and the awkward way he tries to hold the bottle between his fists.”
“You sound like a woman in love.”
“And how does a woman in love sound?”
“Happy. Excited. Obsessed.”
Obsessed. She recalled the word from her appointment book. Had she been obsessed about her work before amnesia took her memory? Everything she’d learned indicated the business was her life. Odd that she hadn’t wanted more. She jerked her head up. As their gazes locked over the candlelit table, she thought maybe she was due for a change. “Am I ignoring you?”
“No need to apologize.” His murmur rippled through her like warm honey, inflamed her like fine wine. “I like watching the curl of your lip when you hold Alex.”
Her voice raised half an octave in surprise. “I curl my lip?”
“The left corner rises, and then you pucker it in a cute half smile. And your eyes kind of glaze with a happy sheen.”
“What a fanciful imagination you have.”
“I’m just observant.”
Wondering what else he saw when he looked at her but afraid to ask, she couldn’t hold the intensity of his gaze. And she had no idea what to say. Thankful for the baby, she turned her attention to Alex, fussing with a suspender strap that didn’t need straightening.
Heat had risen to Chelsea’s cheeks at his compliments. Finally she regained control of her tongue. “And how was your day?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.
With a shake of his head and a smile that said he knew exactly what she was trying to do, he shook a finger at her. “Oh, no, you don’t. All day I’ve looked forward to hearing what you’ve learned about yourself.”
She frowned as she recalled Vanessa, the redheaded young woman she’d met at the elevator. Vanessa had clearly avoided looking at Chelsea. And then later, Sandy had been surprised when Chelsea had shared how her presentation was going. “It’s not flattering.”
“How’s that?”
A waitress brought Jeff a glass of wine and a soft drink for her since she couldn’t have alcohol so soon after her head injury. But Jeff didn’t allow the short delay to keep him from pursuing his questions. “You found out you design ad campaigns for dirty politicians?”
She arched her brow. “My employees don’t like me and probably with good reason.”
“Oh, yes, I can see what a terrible person you are.”
She shifted Alex to her shoulder and patted his back. Finding the soft sound of his burping into her ear oddly comforting, she snuggled him closer. “I fired a man for disagreeing with me.”
His blue eyes glinted with wry amusement. “That’s terrible.”
“My rash decisions have driven the firm to a precarious position.”
He stared at her over the rim of his glass, and his lips twitched. “You mean to tell me there’s a woman of daring behind that demure pose?”
Strange how he saw her cool on the outside, wild on the inside. She saw herself as a pretender trying to fill a role and afraid of failure. “If you call ‘daring’ throwing away bread-and-butter accounts on a foolish dream, then I guess I’m daring. Although others might call it sheer stupidity.”
“And who told you all this?”
“My secretary filled me in. The accountant, Walter, confirmed it.”
“And this Walter, do you trust him?”
With one fingertip, Chelsea toyed with the beads of condensation on her glass. “Walter doesn’t look like an accountant. He’s at least six foot six and built like an NFL linebacker. During the entire time I spoke with him, he seemed uncomfortable, as if I were about to jump down his throat for giving me bad news. Or maybe as if he was hiding something, I couldn’t tell.”
“Some bosses do take out their frustrations on the messenger.”
“I pulled Walter’s file and reviewed his employee record. He was fired from his last job.” She sighed and moved the baby to a sitting position on her lap. Each revelation added to her growing list of questions. “I wish I knew why I hired him.”
“He’s probably competent. Or maybe it’s the soft side of your heart that you don’t want to believe exists.” Jeff held out his arms toward Alex. “Can I hold him?”
“Sure.” She handed the baby across the table. Maybe she was being too hard on herself and only looking for the bad things, the not-so-nice parts of her character. She’d absorbed enough advertising studies to know that even beautiful women obsessed about what they considered ugly ears or saddlebag thighs. Was she doing the same thing about her past?
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands. “Being objective isn’t easy.”
“Not even when you have your memories,” he reminded her gently, a bright flare of desire springing into his eyes. His soft tone sent shivers down her arms. Sensing the arousal behind his softly murmured words, she imagined what it would be like to have him talk to her in that intoxicating voice when he made love, imagined a golden flow of passion spiraling into raw, sensuous desire. Fire spread to her heart, and she forced herself to stop fantasizing. Ducking her head to avoid his gaze, she reminded herself that until she regained her memories, her life might not be her own to share.
As if deliberately breaking the sudden tension between them, Jeff fixed his attention on Alex. He reached into his jacket and when he pulled a furry, blue-white ghost with enormous black eyes and a pink tongue over his hand, Alex glued his gaze to it with seeming fascination.
Jeff wiggled his hand, opening and closing the puppet’s mouth. A fleeting thought of his hands on her skin flitted through her mind before she ruthlessly pushed it away.
Jeff raised his voice two octaves to a squeak. “Hi, little tiger, my name is Jasper. I want to be your friend.”
Alex grinned, and so did Chelsea. There was just something endearing about a man willing to make silly sounds and faces to win a smile from a baby. But seductive, not endearing, was the word she’d use to describe the way he made her flood with desire with just a look or a movement o
f his hand. She had to regain control of herself and was grateful Jeff could carry the conversation by himself.
“What did you say, tiger? Oh, yes. We have a present for your mama, too.”
Jeff, the puppet still on his hand, reached beside him on the seat. In the dim light, he grinned and lifted a basket in sight. Earlier she’d been so absorbed with Alex’s smile, Jeff had sneaked the basket by her.
“You brought me a stuffed animal?” The black-and-white, floppy-eared bundle made her fingers itch to stroke it. She recalled stating in the hospital that she didn’t even have a dog, and she forced back tears at his thoughtfulness. His compassion and his sexy manner wrapped in one captivating package were more than any woman should have to resist unwrapping.
“There’s a real puppy coming soon. My sister’s dog is whelping.” He held out the basket. “Here, want to hold her?”
What she wanted was to hold him. Instead, she took the basket, and their fingers grazed, transmitting a burning sweetness up her arm. She forced her tone to sound normal. “Will it be safe to keep a puppy around Alex?”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “In a few months, Alex will be crawling. It’s the pup who’ll be afraid of him.”
She shrugged, feeling silly but happy that he was planning to see her in a month or two. A lot could happen in a short time. She could regain her memories. Find out what it felt like to run her hands through his thick hair. Find out if his kisses were as seductive as the heated promise in his eyes.
Despite her wayward thoughts, she tried to remain calm. “I’d like a female if there’s one in the litter.”
“I’ll put a female on reserve,” he said with a wickedly delightful grin.
They ate a wonderful crab dinner, lingered over coffee and then Jeff renewed his offer to drive her to Anne’s house to retrieve her car.
Most homes in the neighborhood had their lights on at nine-thirty But after the police officer had told her the house was vacant, Chelsea was surprised to see the light from a television screen shining through the window of the home of her former friend.
A Baby to Love Page 9
