by Kimber Chin
"That ... that sleezeball.” This got Anne pacing again. Back and forth, back and forth, her thoughts moving as quickly. “The same place as the e-mails; they must be connected. This is personal then. He's after me."
"Annie...” She had forgotten about Nancy. Her friend's eyes were round.
This shouldn't happen, getting Nancy alarmed. That was all Anne needed, to put additional stress on a pregnant woman and have that to worry about too. “Don't worry, Nance,” Anne rushed to assure her former partner, doing her best to trivialize the matter. “It's silly corporate games. You know I enjoy those."
"I don't know.” Nancy bit her bottom lip. “You sound pretty upset."
"Of course, I'm upset. Right now I'm losing.” She dredged up a smile. “But not for long. I'm too good for that."
Anne exchanged a loaded look with Philippe and he stepped in to back her up. “And I'm even better. It's playing with money, Nancy, and I can outlast anyone in that arena."
Cocky bastard. He downplayed the situation and pumped up his ego at the same time.
"Well,” Nancy caved, but not completely, “as long as there's no physical threat to anyone."
At this, Anne could grin with a clear conscience. She almost was certain the hacker was about financial retribution, not physical. “No physical threats, Nance. I wouldn't risk it. I didn't win the last fight, remember?"
"I remember. That was foolish on your part to even put yourself in that situation.” Since Philippe, Ginny, and the Angel knew, Anne figured telling Nancy wouldn't do any additional harm. Her friend had been overprotective of her since.
"And I wouldn't allow Anne to put herself in harm's way again, Nancy. Believe me,” Philippe at his most domineering.
He wouldn't allow her, would he? As if he had any control over her. She'd get into trouble if she wanted to.
But Philippe's comments satisfied Nancy. “So this is a game?"
"A game,” Anne reassured her. A terrible, awful game with money, reputations, and businesses at risk.
"Okay, then. You and Philippe may be good at these games, Annie.” Nancy stood, her hand moving over her stomach instinctively. “But I'm not. I'll leave you to your plotting. If you need me, give me a call.” She squeezed Anne's shoulder as she passed.
Philippe and Anne waited until the door was fully closed before continuing.
"Thank you for that.” Anne nodded towards the door. “I didn't want to worry Nancy. She has enough on the go."
"You're a good friend, Cherie.” Philippe sighed.
"But a terrible businesswoman.” Anne hated that this happened.
"You made a mistake. We all did. Nancy, you, me. We're all responsible, and you and I will fix it.” You and I ... they were a team. That thought eased Anne's mind a little. Only a little because the worst was yet to come.
"It must be Kevin Maple.” Her worried glance darted up to Philippe's. “I'm sure of it. He hates me. He'd strike out at my clients just to get to me."
And Philippe knew this was the core of Anne's worries. If it was only about herself, she could handle it but the thought of her precious clients being harmed scared her.
Philippe moved around the table to the chair next to Anne and took her hand. It trembled in his, like a tiny frightened bird. “We don't know that for certain, Cherie.” Though Philippe planned to have a talk with Kevin immediately. “And we don't have proof. But we will, I promise you. My people are working on it."
She wouldn't meet his eyes. “I appreciate it, Philippe."
"You're a priority for me, Anne.” He raised her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. Her pulse was strong. Anne was strong. A woman he could count on in adversity. A
true warrior. But a warrior without a battle plan.
"What can I do?” Her helplessness struck a chord with him. He felt helpless too.
Anne wanted to take action, do something. Philippe understood but he didn't want her involved further. “Look at the rest of your information. Ensure that it is secure,” he advised, giving her lower level tasks. “That will prevent a repeat attack. I don't know if Nancy is giving the business wind-up the attention it needs."
"She has other priorities.” The corner of Anne's mouth quirked up. “I'll look into it but what I really meant was, what can I do about Kevin?"
He knew what she meant. There was no distracting his single-minded woman.
"Nothing. You can do nothing.” Philippe was firm, remembering Anne's previous horrible attempts at investigation. Gregory found her out, he himself found her out ... if anyone else, no, that couldn't happen. “We,” and by we, he meant she, “will wait and see. We wait for the experts."
"Or wait for him to make a move.” Anne frowned. Philippe knew waiting wasn't Anne's strong point. “Whichever comes first."
Anne could be right. The next move could be Kevin's. One thing Philippe drummed into Kevin's thick skull over this past year was once a plan was set, to implement and implement quickly. Anne gave a heart-wrenching sigh and Philippe pushed all thought of Kevin from his mind. He would deal with his former executive later. Right now, Anne was his focus. Mais, what to do for her, his poor little sparrow? To relieve Anne's stress? To relieve his own stress?
There was only one action he knew that did that quickly, and it sure wasn't a strategy planning session. Would she be up for it? He could ask. “Cherie?” his question came out as a groan.
"Philippe,” her reply said it all. She needed him. As much as he needed her.
Philippe swiveled Anne's chair around so they faced each other. “We wait. What to do, mon amour, while we wait?” He pushed her silky brown hair back away from her face, not hiding what he wanted but not rushing her. He let her take the next step. And she did.
"I can think of a few things."
With his assistance, Anne eased her body into his lap, straddling him, her skirt pushed up, exposing those fabulous hose-clad legs. He smelled her, a mixture of her fruity shampoo and her own special scent. Their lips came together, hungry, frustrated, vicious, their tongues dueling inside her mouth, fighting for control.
He was hard for her, he always hardened for her instantly, so he grabbed a handful of her lushly rounded buttocks, pressing her against him. Mon Dieu, this was exactly what they needed, to spend their fury.
"Only a few things?” he ground out against her mouth.
Anne started moving back and forth. “Maybe more than a few."
* * * *
Wait and see? Screw the wait and see. She was taking action. If sitting here, waiting, counted as taking action. Anne's car was parked outside the Cyber Cafe, her phone on the dashboard in front of her. She hadn't bothered with a disguise this time. Stanley was busy, plus she didn't plan on leaving the car.
No, her plan was to log the goings and comings at the Cyber Cafe, taking digital photos of anyone she knew, waiting for one of those hateful e-mails. When it came, and by the previous frequency that wouldn't be long in coming, Anne would know for certain that it was Maple. She'd have proof, a time stamped photo of him entering and exiting, and the e-mail.
It wouldn't hold up in court but it would make him nervous. That could be all that was needed, to make him nervous. If she had proof, would Kevin be so brave? Anne doubted that. He never once signed an e-mail, relying on anonymity.
So far, no sign of him. She saw Derek and Denise a couple of times. Once she saw Denise, at least she thought it was Denise, go in twice without exiting. Anne couldn't be quite sure, the L.A. area had an abundance of tall blondes, plus she had to admit that she wasn't that great at this detective work. She was too easily distracted.
But that got Anne to thinking. Maybe Denise exited without Anne seeing her. It was possible. Fire code required at least one other entrance. And would Kevin use such a back door? No, there was no reason to. He didn't know he was being watched. Plus he didn't seem like a back-alley type of guy, schlepping around in the grime and stink.
Though he didn't seem like a harassment type of guy either.
There was no accounting for appearances. What did they say about mass murderers looking like the sweetest, quietest, nicest guys? Not that he was a mass murderer, at least Anne hoped not, but then he didn't look like the nicest guy either.
Lord, this is boring. Luckily this time, she had her own car. The seats were more comfortable, and actually clean. The radio worked. “Karma Chameleon” came on. Anne tapped her hands on the steering wheel to the beat. What a good song. She hadn't heard it since, she couldn't remember, quite a while. The All Eighties Power Hour. She reached down to turn the volume up a bit and almost missed a distinctive gray-topped head enter the Cyber Cafe.
Anne fumbled for the camera. Damn, too late to take his photo. She did it anyway, only getting the closing door but at least it was time stamped. She'd take another, this one of his face, when he came out. She could also, to add evidence, get Denise or Derek to confirm that Maple was there. Sign, what did the T-V shows call it? An affidavit?
Anne logged the details in her little notepad, pleased with herself for being so organized. Small details were often the difference between selling a business plan and not. Maybe this time, the details would put additional fear in Kevin Maple.
The irritating “You've got mail” digital voice filled the car. Anne picked up her phone to check the source. Nope, not her stalker. Spam. She certainly got a lot of those garbage e-mails. She should figure out how to update her filter. Not that Anne normally used her phone for e-mail, the small screen making her eyes dingy, the brightness turned up too high. Today was an exception. She didn't plan to haunt the Cyber Café any longer than necessary, only until the e-mail came in.
Her phone rang but Anne ignored the even more annoying ring tone. What was that song? Push it, push it real good. Anne definitely didn't load that. Must have been one of her teenagers. Even if she knew how, it wouldn't have been her first choice. The music stopped. No matter. She wasn't answering her phone. Anne had to stay focused. The stalker wouldn't be calling her.
Her phone rang again. Okay, she'd check the number. Blast, it was Philippe. She wouldn't answer it. She didn't want to lie about what she was up to. But he might have news. Maybe she didn't have to sit in this overly warm car. Maybe he got the person. Though how could he? Maple was inside. Maybe he got sufficient evidence and he wouldn't need her detective.
Curiosity piqued, Anne picked up. “Hello Philippe."
"Salute, Cherie.” The door opened and Philippe slid inside, his phone pressed to his ear. Anne threw him a disgusted look and ended the call.
Busted yet again. “How did you know I was here?” How did he always know where she was? “Are you following me?"
"No need, mon amour, I could see your car from my office."
Philippe indicated the building hosting Lamont Ventures. Following a hunch, he had scanned, via his handy dandy telescope, the street running in front of the Cyber Café. When he spotted the black Volvo parked right outside, he knew immediately to whom it belonged. Maybe he should be following her or having her followed, to ensure she stayed out of trouble. Anne was a half decent bluffer but a disaster at detective work.
"Oh.” His darling woman looked adorably sheepish.
Hungry Like The Wolf filled the car. “A Duran Duran lover, Anne?"
"It's the radio,” Anne turned the volume down.
His girl had it cranked, probably belting out the tunes the only way she knew how, horribly off key. Philippe couldn't believe he loved someone so clearly tone deaf.
An overwhelmingly annoying ring replaced the eighties music. Anne glanced at her phone and ignored it.
"If you give me your phone tonight, I'll download something a little more...” It rang again and Philippe winced ... “pleasing.” This made Anne laugh, her head thrown back, her hair falling like satin around her. Now that was a pleasing sound. He should record that for his own phone. He'd answer every call with a smile.
"I usually have it on ‘vibrate.’”
No kidding. “I can tell. So what are you doing here, Cherie? So bored with your business closed down that you hang out in parked cars?"
"No, I have plenty to do.” Anne shook her hair, the sun reflecting off the gold strands. “I'm checking out a theory."
"Hunting my friends again, Cherie?” Philippe hunkered down in the car. “Should I be hidden?"
Anne ignored him and he straightened back up again, running a hand over the dash. It came back clean. “Couldn't get the station wagon? Did it finally go to the big junkyard in the sky?” He was glad she wasn't in the rust bucket. It wasn't safe to drive.
"Stanley wishes,” Anne grumbled.
"It was Stanley's car?” Not that he cared but this surprised him. Stanley appeared even more anal about order and cleanliness than Anne.
"Geez, no.” This drew another laugh from his uptight girl. “It belongs to a friend of Stanley's but sometimes he insists on doing the driving."
"If Stanley stops calling me sweetie, I'll have it stolen for him.” Philippe picked up the digital camera and scrolled through the photos. There were quite a few of pavement and sky. Did she not know how to delete them?
"Steal it? Philippe, your connections scare me sometimes.” Anne snatched the camera from him.
"And your thought process doesn't scare me?” Philippe had to give the woman points for creative thinking, though he would deduct them for lack of knowledge. “Let me guess. You're tracking everyone going in and out of the building, waiting for your mystery e-mailer. How do you plan to figure out which person it is?"
"You've got mail,” came from her phone and Anne looked at the display. Her smile was satisfied as she undid her seatbelt. Where did she think she was going? Anne was almost out the door before Philippe could grab her. She struggled but Philippe held her tight.
"Philippe, I have to—he's going to get away,” Anne spluttered.
"Clever plan, my tech-stunted Magnum P.I.” Philippe tried not to laugh, she was such a fireball. “But it won't work."
"Let me go. It'll work,” Anne protested, watching the door with growing concern, wiggling in his arms. It shouldn't be arousing his passion but how could that writhing body not?
"It won't work.” Philippe waited for her to ask why but her mouth clenched tight. “Why Philippe, do you ask? Well, mon amour adorable, it's because all the e-mails thus far have been time stamped for random delivery."
Anne's jaw loosened and she stopped trying to pull away from him.
"Parfaitement.” Philippe knew she understood. “The person's no amateur. And the program to accomplish the delay is custom written, no back tracking, no tracing."
"You've gone down this route before,” came out as an accusation. Philippe accepted it for the frustration it likely was.
"Some time ago, though not...” He picked up the camera again, snapping a photo of her sweet face. “...with such verve. I'm glad you're on my team, Cherie."
"Am I on your team, Philippe?"
"Bien sur, of course you are, Cherie.” He took another photo, this one zooming into her gaping neckline, focusing on a swab of exposed lace. “An integral part."
"Then why didn't I know about the time stamping?” She pulled her blouse together. “How do you expect to catch Maple if we don't share information?"
Speaking of sharing information. “Check your e-mail, Cherie. What does it say?"
Anne squinted at the tiny screen. Did she need glasses? “Prepare to pay."
Prepare to pay. An ominous message. That had better only be about money. “Does it say how?"
"No. Do you think Maple..."
Philippe interrupted her, lowering the camera lens, clicking a photo of the curve of her knees. “I don't think Maple's your man, Cherie."
Anne flipped her skirt to cover as much leg as possible. “How can you say that? He's a customer. I saw him go into the café."
Philippe put the camera down so he could look directly in her eyes. “After coming from my office. I met with him this morning."
She wound up an
d slugged him as hard as she could in the shoulder. Which wasn't hard at all though Anne shook her hand from the impact.
Was that all she had? No wonder Suzanne beat the pooh out of her. Philippe's six-year-old niece could hit harder. “Cherie, I think you should take a self defense class,” he said, knowing full well that this tangent would lead away from his conversation with Maple.
"I might do that,” she growled in irritation, “and then you'll be sorry. First thing I'll do is beat your ass."
The thought of little Anne giving him the beats made Philippe laugh so hard that his eyes watered. At first, she was silent, disgruntled with him, but eventually a smile upturned those beautiful lips.
"I'm not very strong,” Anne admitted.
"And you're terrible at stakeouts and cooking and...” he kissed the top of her head ... “you can't sing to save your soul."
"Hey,” she protested.
"But I love you anyway.” Philippe continued to kiss her, moving to the tip of her nose as she tilted it up at him.
"You do?"
"Of course, I've told you that plenty of times, mon amour, my love.” His fingers explored the softness of her hair. Did she not know that? That he loved her? “I don't call everyone that."
"You've never called anyone your love?” She looked at him in wonderment.
Damn woman would call his bluff. She was too smart by half and that endeared her all the more to him. “Not since high school.” He used those words to land girls before he realized how very powerful they were. Such was the callousness of youth.
"You love me,” Anne repeated it like she couldn't believe it was true.
He would have to keep saying it then, until she did believe him. “I do,” and he paused, “so?” Philippe looked at her expectantly.
"So?” Big brown eyes blinked up at him.
So? Anne loved him back, didn't she? A tiny kernel of doubt shifted inside of Philippe. His little brown sparrow simply wasn't using him, was she? “Do you...?” But he couldn't come out and ask. What if she said no? He didn't want to know.
Anne laughed at his distress. She was evil, his woman. “You know that I love you, conceited man."
