by Kaylea Cross
He would have liked to say that the kiss had been part of the cover-up, but he knew better. There were pretend kisses with lips barely touching, and then there were sexy, passionate kisses that swept you into a tide of desire. The kiss he had shared with Janet Maple was of the latter kind. The truth of the matter was that he had wanted to kiss her for a while—ever since he had first laid his eyes on her in the office of Bostoff Securities, to be precise—and today marked the limit of his longing. When he saw her in that red dress, her lips juicy and shiny, her eyes demurely lowered under her long, rich lashes, he snatched his moment. Of course there had been a risk of her slapping him and ruining their entire operation, but he had counted on Janet’s work dedication, and he had been right. In fact, he was quite certain that the reason that Janet allowed him to kiss her stemmed from motivation that had to be greater than just work dedication. After all, not only had she allowed him to taste the softness of her lips, she had let his tongue caress her mouth and had answered him with equal passion. He had barely had the presence of mind to pull away from her and remember the task at hand. But now there was no danger of him jeopardizing their mission. After the way he had just acted, he was certain that his chances of getting closer than partner distance to Janet were close to nil.
But then maybe it was all for the better anyway. Dennis knew how to live his life the way it was: he worked hard and he partied hard. As long as a woman wanted to have a good time, he was up for the ride, but if she wanted more, he was out. Ever since his attempt at monogamy had failed, he considered that road closed for him. The trouble with Janet was that he wanted more than a good time from her, and he doubted he would know how to give or receive it.
Chapter Twenty-five
David Muller placed his arm around Mila’s warm, slender shoulders. To think that soon he would no longer have to part from her was almost too delicious a prospect, and the knowledge that it would soon be true made it even more wonderful. One last score, and I will be free, David thought to himself, running his fingers through Mila’s silky hair. Tonight, he would meet Finnegan and Magee for dinner, and if there was one thing that David was certain of, it was that socializing was not the purpose of their get-together.
During the past few weeks David had finally found one thing in common with Finnegan: both of them had been waiting for Magee to tell them which automobile manufacturer would receive the contract from Rover. Magee had said that the pool had been limited to three companies: Stork Enterprises, Richardson Inc., and Valley Metals. But three was too big a number to gamble on, and David wanted specifics. He was fed up with both Finnegan and his needy daughter, but David could not cut his ties with either of them until he had the information he needed. After that, he would be set for a lifetime, and Aileen Finnegan along with her fat, controlling father would be history.
Then, just as David was about to lose his patience, Finnegan called him with good news. Magee had requested a meeting. Since the commencement of their partnership, David had met with Magee only a handful of times; each time, Magee had delivered vital information, which meant that this time, just like all the others, Magee would have big news as well. David was all set to act on Magee’s information. He had opened numerous brokerage accounts for the Phoenix Fund, which would execute the trades according to his instructions, and the offshore bank accounts he had opened for himself would hide his proceeds along with those of Finnegan and Magee. For David did not intend to play fair. The pie was too large to divide it equally. Rather, he would have it all for himself. And if either Magee or Finnegan were to demand their share from him, the recordings of their previous meetings would guarantee David’s security.
David checked his watch. It was seven o’clock. Just enough time to get himself in order before his meeting with Finnegan and Magee.
“Mila, I have to go.”
“Um,” Mila murmured, her face pressed into his chest. “I have to go to work too. Wake me up before you leave.”
“Mila, wake up. There’s something I have to tell you before I leave.”
“What is it?” Mila mumbled.
“It’s important, so listen up.”
If there was one quality in Mila that David admired more than her looks and lovemaking skills, it was her ability to be constantly attuned to everyone around her, particularly her ability to be attuned to him. This time was no different. Noticing the ever slight change in his tone, Mila shot up in the bed.
“What’s going on?” she asked without a trace of drowsiness in her voice.
“Mila, you know that safe that I had ordered for my study?”
“That ugly metal box?”
“Yes, that ugly metal box,” David confirmed. “Although once you learn about its valuable contents, you may not think it so ugly.”
David took Mila’s hand into his and pressed it to his lips. He needed a moment. He was about to entrust Mila with information that without exaggeration would put his life into her hands. He had never trusted a woman or a man that much before. There he was, about to put his life into Mila’s hands. He had deliberated his decision to tell her for weeks. The upcoming deal with Finnegan and Magee would be big, too big to go into it alone. David needed someone to have his back. Mila was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so it only made sense that he should be able to trust her with his life. The realization of what he was about to do filled him with agony that bordered on pleasure, akin to the adrenaline rush he had felt when he had tried bungee jumping during college spring break. But now, unlike with a bungee jump, there was no safety cord tied to his legs.
“Mila, you know that I work with investments,” David began.
“Yes, David. I know. If you need my help, I think I should be able to follow along. You may not remember, but I did major in finance back in Prague.” Mila’s deep blue eyes looked straight at him, as though accusing him of perceiving their owner as nothing more than a pair of killer tits and long legs.
“Yes, Mila, of course I remember. And I have no doubts that you’ll be able to grasp what I am about to tell you.”
“Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it,” Mila said flatly.
The matter-of-factness of Mila’s voice reminded David why he was so crazy about her. Mila might be one hot babe, but when it came to her brains she was more rational than any man. He could trust her.
“There are two business associates of mine who are about to supply me with very valuable information,” David began…
About twenty minutes later, after he had finished his story, David searched Mila’s face for signs of condemnation as he waited for her reply.
“Not to worry, David. Your information will be safe with me,” Mila said simply.
“I knew it would be,” he said, kissing her hand. “And when this is all over, we’ll be able to go anywhere we want. Anywhere in the world—pick a destination and that’s where we’ll go.”
“With you is the only place I ever want to be.”
He had expected her to shriek with delight, sputtering out places like Paris, London, or Milan. Instead, her steadfast response nearly brought him to tears. This was a woman he would get the moon and the stars for.
“Mila, I promise you that once this deal is done, I’m going to marry you.”
At eight o’clock sharp, David Muller approached the entrance to Keens steakhouse. Freshly showered and clad in his Zegna suit, he felt on top of the world. Finally, the deal he had been working on ever since his beneficial but highly onerous association with Finnegan began, was about to come to fruition.
“Good evening. I am here for the Smith party.” David barely resisted a smirk at Finnegan’s alias. One would think that a man occupying the position of the state attorney general should be a touch more inventive, but apparently Finnegan’s imagination ran thin. At least he varied his aliases.
The host nodded understandingly. “Of course.”
A few moments later, David was ushered into Finnegan’s favorite dining room.
Fi
nnegan and Magee were already seated behind the table. In his usual fashion, Finnegan had already tucked a napkin into his shirt collar. He had taken off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, exposing the sweat spots under his arms.
“David, there you are!” Finnegan heaved his ginormous frame to his feet and extended his hand to David. The buttons on his shirt looked like they were about to pop off from the sudden movement.
“Good to you see, Cornelius.” David smiled. For once he was being honest, for tonight even Finnegan’s repulsive appearance was not enough to dampen his excitement about their meeting.
“David,” Magee greeted him laconically.
“Hello, Kevan,” David nodded back.
“Sit down, sit down.” Finnegan slapped the back of the chair next to him.
David did as he was told. His eyes darted from Finnegan to Magee in turn as he tried to rein in his anticipation. Come on, get on with it! He wanted to shout at the two idiots sitting on either side of him, but he knew better.
Finnegan cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get some chow first, and then we’ll talk.” He motioned to the waiter who had been hovering by the door. “We’ll have steak for six, mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach. Oh, and a bottle of 18-year-old Macallan. And we’ll have smoked bacon to start with.”
David resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. As if Finnegan needed to fatten up his ginormous belly any further, but then David was not here to supervise Finnegan’s diet. Come to think of, Finnegan dropping dead from a coronary would be a welcome outcome of events.
While they waited for their food, David raked his mind for possible conversation topics. It was not as though he had much in common with either Finnegan or Magee. David had tried his best to make both men like him, and while he was fairly certain about Finnegan’s favorable disposition toward him, David was not so sure about Magee—that one was a slippery sucker.
“So, David, when’s the wedding?” Finnegan’s tiny eyes glistened. “You’re not going to leave Aileen in the lurch, are you? The poor girl’s got her panties in a knot over you.”
David felt his stomach turn. How about never, he was tempted to answer, but instead he said, “Oh, no, sir. Aileen is the love of my life. I just want to make sure that everything is settled before we tie the knot.”
Finnegan patted his belly. “That’s what I liked to hear. It’s going to be a glorious wedding, and you don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll pay for everything.”
There was a knock on the door, and a waiter bearing a bottle of Macallan entered the room.
“Go on, pour it out,” Finnegan instructed. “Leave the bottle here,” he added after the waiter finished pouring the drinks.
A second waiter walked into the room. He was carrying a plate of steaming bacon. “Bring it over here,” Finnegan demanded, watching closely as the waiter heaved a giant serving onto Finnegan’s plate.
Magee’s turn was next.
The waiter approached David, and the greasy smell wafted over David’s nostrils. He contemplating declining, but after catching Finnegan’s watchful eyes, knew better. There were men who bonded through drinking and whoring in strip clubs; Finnegan was the kind of man who bonded through eating.
Sensing Finnegan’s eyes upon him, David cut off a large slice of bacon and shoved it into his mouth. He closed his eyes to prevent himself from vomiting. “Delicious,” he said after the slippery, greasy substance had made its way down his throat.
“Simply the best,” Finnegan confirmed. “How do you like it, Kevan?”
“Very nice indeed,” agreed Magee, while his bony hands dragged the knife over the meat on his plate.
“I tell you, there’s nothing like a good slice of bacon. Now, while we wait for that steak, let’s have a drink.” Finnegan raised his glass. “To joint success.”
“To joint success.” David lifted his glass to his lips and emptied it.
* * *
At the sound of the doorbell, Janet jumped up from the couch and headed for the door. Baxter followed suit and raced after her.
Without asking who it was, Janet flung open the door. Sure enough, Dennis Walker was standing in front of her. He was holding a box of pizza and a six pack of beer.
“Don’t you ask who it is before you open the door?” Dennis asked, making his way inside her apartment.
Before Janet could answer, Baxter pushed by her and started pawing at Dennis’s leg, barking excitedly.
“He remembers me,” Dennis observed with a note of smug satisfaction.
“I think it’s the pizza smell that’s getting him excited,” Janet countered, snatching the pizza box from Dennis.
“Don’t forget the beer.” Dennis handed her the six pack. “It’s going to be a long night, and the last thing we want is warm beer.”
Janet took the six pack from Dennis and headed into the kitchen. She placed the pizza box on the counter, took two bottles of beer and placed the rest of the beer into the fridge. She reached for plates and rolled her eyes: this was going to be a long night indeed.
Janet brought the pizza into the living room and saw that Dennis was busy tinkering with a gadget in his hands. “It’s the transmitter for the bug,” Dennis explained.
“Is it working?” Janet asked as she placed the food on the reading table.
Dennis adjusted the controls, and distant human voices erupted from the speaker. “It is now. Can you recognize Muller’s voice?”
Janet recognized Muller’s cocky inflection emanating through the receiver. “Yes, that’s him all right!” she exclaimed, straining her ears to make sense of the conversation that was taking place on the other end of the transmitter.
“Now all we have to do is sit back and wait for the evidence to glide right into our hands.” Dennis took a bite of pizza and chewed it with relish.
Janet resisted the urge to smack the man. “It would also help if we could actually make out what they are saying,” she added pointedly.
“Let them settle in first. They are just shooting the breeze for now.” Dennis took a swallow of his beer. He handed Janet her beer. “Here, let’s toast to success.”
“I don’t want to jinx it.” Janet took the beer bottle from Dennis’s hand and placed it on the table. “And I don’t drink on the job,” she added because that was all it was—a job. Even though it was Saturday night, and a handsome man was sprawled out on her couch, drinking beer, he was nothing more than a colleague. A colleague who also happened to kiss her earlier but, as Dennis had made clear, that too had been part of the job, and Janet had no intention of disappointing him.
“Fine, be boring.” Dennis shrugged, reaching for the beer. “I on the other hand think that there’s nothing wrong with combining business with a little bit of pleasure.”
Maybe it was the tone of Dennis’s voice, or maybe it was the way his lithe, muscular body lay stretched out on Janet’s couch only a few inches away from her, but she felt her face growing hot. Actually, she sensed her entire body temperature rising. This will not do, Janet thought, this will not do at all. There she was, on the brink of closing what could easily turn out to be the biggest case of her career, and all she could think about was the tantalizing scent of Dennis’s cologne and the sexy, although admittedly smug, smile on his face. She forced herself not to think about the glint in his blue eyes, the faint stubble on his cheeks, and the hollow of his throat that, along with a bit of clavicle bone, was peeking through the open collar of his shirt.
“I am not boring!” Janet snapped, still struggling to tame her disheveled thoughts. “I am professional.”
“Hang on a second.” Dennis raised his hand. “I think it’s starting.”
Janet focused her attention on the words coming from the transmitter. “We’ll have steak for six, mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach. Oh, and a bottle of 18-year-old Macallan. And we’ll have smoked bacon to start with.”
Dennis whistled. “18-year-old Macallan. Someone’s got expensive taste.”
/> “Shhhh,” Janet hissed. “We’ll miss the whole thing.”
They listened intently for a few more minutes, but the conversation did not mention anything of substance. “I think we can relax for now,” said Dennis. “It sounds like Finnegan won’t be ready to talk business until he’s stuffed his gut.”
Janet wrinkled her nose. “Steak for six for four people. Can you imagine?”
“And I wouldn’t be surprised if Finnegan ended up eating most of it. He sounds like a man with a big appetite.”
“That figures,” Janet nodded.
For the next half an hour, Janet and Dennis ate pizza and nursed their beers while listening to Finnegan, Magee, and Muller indulge in their prime steak and 18-year-old Macallan. Finally, there was a sound of plates being carried away and coffee being brought in. “I bet it’s going to start now.” Dennis leaned closer to the transmitter.
Janet followed his cue, but she leaned in too quickly, brushing her knee against Dennis’s. “Sorry,” she blushed.
Dennis did not have time to accept her apology because at this very moment they heard Finnegan’s voice coming through the transmitter. “Gentlemen, I think now would be a good time for us to talk about why we gathered here tonight. As you know, I always enjoy your company, but I believe that tonight Kevan has some very interesting news that will make this gathering even more pleasant than it already is.”
A screeching voice that Janet and Dennis had identified as Kevan Magee’s carried through the transmitter. “Thank you, Cornelius. Yes, indeed, I do have some important news that could be very profitable for us all.” Magee coughed. “But before we proceed, I would like to stress the importance of absolute discretion. We have to be very careful in our conduct—”
“Yes, Kevan, we understand that,” Finnegan interjected. “That’s why we have David here. He’s a pro at what he does.”
