by Beverly Rae
“Who is the lovely woman with Mr. Delcaluca?”
I cringed at the same question being asked by three voices. That’s what I’d like to know. “Do you three share the same brain or something?”
All three images shook their head. “Yes and no. However, we do think alike. Would you like us to explain our programming to you?”
Missy interjected, “Their programming.”
“No, thanks. I’m pretty sure it’s beyond my grasp.”
Missy studied the photo of Miss PP. “So who is—”
“Um, not to be rude, but that’s for me to know.” I caught the flash of irritation on Missy’s face before it swiftly vanished. Seems meek-and-mild Missy might have a mean side. I figured I needed to set the tone of our business relationship before it got out of hand. “I think we need to have an understanding, ladies.” Were cybernetic individuals considered ladies? “Anything you see, hear or download in and out of this office, as well as any correspondence from, to or by me is strictly confidential. Agreed?”
“Are you asking us to keep information from Mr. Delcaluca too?” Missy’s all-too-knowing gaze bored into me.
I swallowed and took the leap. “I am.”
The feeling that all three assistants had somehow silently communicated swept over me. My assumption turned out to be correct when they answered in unison. “I can live with that.”
“And Fitz?” Pam chimed in.
“Especially from Fitz.”
Their joint answers echoed cheery tones. “No problem.”
I grinned at them, happy that I’d found three new friends, saluted them and darted out of the room. Clutching the photos of the woman, I darted down the hallway, making a beeline for Kaine’s office. I’d made up my mind to confront him. I didn’t care that I had absolutely no concrete proof that he’d done anything wrong—unless speaking with a dazzling woman could be considered a crime. (By the way, it can when you’re a new and somewhat insecure bride.) At this point, however, I was ready to jump on the slightest indiscretion. Trust me. Hell hath no fury like a bride ignored.
I rounded the corner and slid to a stop outside his door. Gasping more from the sight of my hunk-o-hunks than from my quick trip, I paused to catch my breath and admire the scenery. I had to admit I’d snagged one delicious-looking male specimen. Even though he was fully clothed, I could see the outline of his hard form, the ripple of his arms as he held the phone to one ear and punched his computer keyboard with the other hand. His jaw, firmly set, let me know how irritated he was, but his irritation was also pretty damned sexy. I stood, letting my own vexation ooze out of me until, at last, he glanced up and met my stare.
Gold? Had his eyes been gold? I blinked. But the gold was gone and the green eyes I loved sparkled at me. Why did I keep seeing flashes of gold in his eyes? Seeing gold wasn’t necessarily unusual—lots of people have flecks of gold in their eyes—but this was something different. I could’ve sworn the entire irises of his eyes had changed from green to gold. Maybe I’m seeing his Midas touch. I snorted at my less-than-humorous joke.
He ended the conversation with an abrupt command and placed the phone back in its cradle. “Chrissy-doll? Did you need to see me?”
His question, although sweet in tone, still made me feel like a shy secretary disturbing her intimidating boss with bad news. I shoved away the unnerving thought and warned myself to stay on track. “Yes, I did.” It was difficult, but I barely managed to keep from waving the photos at him like some irate housewife confronting her cheating husband. “I’d like you to take a look at these.”
“Oh? Photos from our honeymoon?” Kaine, a small smile forming on his face, reached over his desk for the photos.
I admit it. I was a bit thrown by his pleasant attitude. After all, he’d left our bedroom last night in a huff. I suddenly changed my mind about explaining why I didn’t want a child and instead decided to focus on the present problem. I handed him the pictures and waited for his reaction. If I hadn’t been watching closely, however, I would’ve missed it. A quick frown grazed his forehead before his expression became unreadable. Damn. If Kaine ever wants to quit his entrepreneurial business, he’d make one helluva player on the World Poker circuit.
“How did you take these?”
The barely concealed edge to his voice made my heart beat faster. “Well, duh. With my camera, of course.” I had to give him credit. He tried for a grin, but fell short.
“You know what I mean.” His gaze broke away from the snapshots to search my face. “Were you following me?”
Ah-ha! Me thinketh you soundeth a bit guilteth, er, guilty. I nearly laughed until I realized I shouldn’t feel victorious that I’d accused him and found him lacking. Still, this old dog wasn’t about to let this old rawhide go. “Should I be following you?” I could tell I’d caught him off-guard, but he quickly recovered.
“I don’t know why you would want to.” He visibly relaxed and moved around the desk to slide his arm around me. “If you’d wanted to follow me around all day, you could’ve simply asked. Although I think you’d probably have been bored out of your mind.”
I leaned into him, a sucker for his touch. “Well, I, uh…”
“But what were you doing in that neighborhood?” He laid the pictures on his desk and pulled me into his embrace. He narrowed his eyes and zoned in. “Have you found another lover already?”
Already? Does he expect me to eventually cheat? Yeah, like that’ll ever happen. I snuggled against him. “Not a chance, big boy. You’re stuck with me, forever and ever.” I sighed and fought to keep my mind on my original mission of finding out who Miss PP was. “I was in the area to de-demonize a teenage boy for his grandma. But you haven’t explained why you were there. And who’s the redhead, anyway?” I swallowed and grabbed at the opening he’d given me. “Have you found another lover already?”
Somehow his chuckle was both comforting and unsettling. “I have dealings all over the world, Chrissy-doll, including most of Atlanta and the surrounding area.” He took me by my arms to move me back from him. If I could’ve held on without feeling like a clingy wife, I would have. “The woman is a business associate. Nothing more.”
I’d never seen a businesswoman who looked like that. Except in the movies. But then, most of my business transactions dealt with average Joes, not ladies who could stand next to the biggest movie starlet and not feel inferior. I sighed and thought about pushing him down on his desk and having my way with him. As newlyweds went, we weren’t getting nearly enough sex. “What kind of business is she in? What’s her name?”
Kaine cupped his palm to my cheek and made my knees melt along with any coherent brain activity. “Chrissy-doll, I would love nothing more than to throw you on top of my desk and make wild passionate love to you.”
Yes, please!
“After all, time is of the essence and—” At my glower, he rounded his eyes and held up a hand in supplication. “No. Not now. We’ll continue that discussion later. Right now, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run to another appointment.”
He stepped away from me and I could swear I felt a black hole appear between us. Or at least a gaping hole in the fulfillment of my desire even if he had dampened the mood with his baby-making implication. “But, Kaine, I’d really like to talk more about her. Now.”
He grinned at me. “Christina Taylor-Delcaluca, are you jealous?”
“Don’t be silly.” Of course I was. But I wasn’t about to admit it.
He scoffed and let his grin grow wider. “Come here, my love.” Taking my hand, he pulled me over to the ornate mirror hanging on the wall behind his desk. Turning me to face my image, he held my shoulders and caught my gaze in the reflection. “Look at yourself. You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever known. And I’ve known my fair share.” Pointing at the image of me in the mirror, he commanded me to keep studying my features, then turned back to his desk, putting his back to me.
“Hey! TMI. I don’t particularly want to know how many wome
n you’ve known.” Or do I? “But just for funsies, how many would that be? More than twenty? Fifty? A hundred?” I pivoted to place my hand on his shoulder before he could answer. “Never mind. Like I said, TMI. Way too much information.”
He wrapped his arms around me again and pressed his lips on mine. After a doozy of a kiss, all swirls of yearning and Kaine’s musky taste, he cupped my face and stared into my eyes. “Never ever doubt that you’re the love of my life.” With one more kiss that nearly dissolved me into a sexual puddle at his feet, he stalked out of the room.
An image of Kaine naked and waiting for me in our bed had me swallowing a hard lump. But not as hard as the lump between his legs—the one I really wanted to swallow. My knees buckled and I plopped into his chair. “Wow. I have got to get that man back in bed.”
“I’ll say.”
Jolted out of my lust-filled thoughts, I peered down at Mini-Pam who I hadn’t realized I’d slipped into my pocket. “Hey. What are you doing eavesdropping on us?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Delcaluca, but I’m not the one who forgot to turn me off.”
I glared at the Missy face in the tiny monitor. “Oh, sure. Like you probably can’t turn yourself off and on at will. Am I right or am I wrong?”
At least Mini-Pam had the decency to appear remorseful. “Well, that’s true.” At my angry expletive, she quickly added, “But you should be glad I was watching.”
“Oh? And why is that, o-miniature-machine-o-mine?”
“Because otherwise, you might not have realized that Kainey—er, Mr. Delcaluca—took one of the photos with him.”
What? I glanced at the pictures lying on the desk. One, two, three, four… Didn’t I print out five photos? Did he take the photo of the beautiful woman turning purple? I tried to jog my memory, but my memory got stuck at the starting line. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“But why would Kaine take one of the photos without telling me?” I stared at the monitor as though staring into Mini-Pam’s eyes would give me the answer.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know the answer to your question.”
Grumbling, I scooped up the remaining photos and started for the door. Started, that is, until what I’d heard finally hit me. “Wait a sec.” I held Mini-Pam closer to my face. “Kainey?” Did Mini-Pam just use a pet name for my husband? Did my electronic assistant have a sweet spot for my husband?
But Mini-Pam, I discovered, had suddenly discovered that her batteries were low and quickly shut down for an “emergency recharging”. Harrumph. Seems to me like she’s doing more avoiding than recharging. But I had bigger problems to solve than a possible cyber crush on my husband. So instead of finding out why she’d used the very familiar and slightly disturbing Kainey, I rushed through the house, hoping my memory would lead me to the garage. If Kaine wasn’t going to give me any complete answers, I’d get them the old-fashioned way. I’d snoop on him. (Oh, hush. Like you wouldn’t do the same.)
Following someone isn’t as easy as it looks on television, especially when you’re driving a cherry-red convertible Porsche. According to Kaine’s on-site automobile mechanic, my dear old Honda had sputtered its last fume-clogged breath and driven off to Car Heaven the night before. Tears had threatened to spill when I’d heard the news, but when he ushered me to the sassy Porsche, I’d managed to regain my stiff upper lip. (Hey, seriously, though. It was tough.)
On hindsight, I should’ve asked for one of my hubby’s other, less noticeable automobiles, but could I help it if the mechanic suggested the Porsche? Getting used to my new billionaire lifestyle would take some doing, but I decided that fighting to retain my noble-yet-poor image was counter-productive and I was now willing to give my new station in life my best shot. You know, for Kaine’s sake.
I slid into traffic behind his limo—I’ll never understand why he owns so many cars when he always uses the limo and chauffeur—and tried to keep one car between us. I doubted he would notice the Porsche following, but I wasn’t sure about Gerald, the limo driver. Was he familiar with the rest of Kaine’s cars? Or did his position as the limo driver keep him restricted to the Rolls? If so, I figured my not-so-little tail might just get away with my investigative tail job.
Questions I knew I should’ve asked Kaine before marrying him kept firing off in my head. What exactly did he do for a living? For a very, very good living, I might add. I’d accepted his earlier vague explanation and never really pressured him for details. I figured I wouldn’t understand the complicated workings of his billion-dollar business. After all, I’d hired an accountant for my own small business—even though he took one look at my jumbled-up books and declared that I couldn’t afford the time it’d take for him to unscramble my mess. Handling finances had never been one of my strong suits. Shoot, I could barely balance my personal checkbook so how could I possibly grasp the complicated dealings of Kaine’s enterprises?
Still my new hubby’s finances weren’t what bugged me the most. I was more distressed because I’d never delved into his personal life. We’d clicked so fast that asking him about his past had never occurred to me. I hadn’t watched before I’d leapt—or however the saying goes. Shoot, as far I knew, he could have four other wives with twelve children scattered in countries around the world. The beautiful redhead popped into my thoughts and I cringed. Was he having an affair with her? Was she a gold-digger in search of a rich sugar daddy?
I snarled, my churning anxiety making me utter curses under my breath. Better to rail than to wail, is what I always say. Pulling the car into a parking space a row down from where the limo had parked, I scrunched down into the seat—not an easy thing to do in a convertible Porsche—and watched the man of my dreams stride toward an outdoor café. He waved the protesting hostess away from him and joined a group of men seated at one of the larger tables. All four of them stood when he approached and, with a curt nod of acknowledgement, he pulled out the chair at the head of the table. The men waited for him to sit before they did and the meeting—if that’s what it was—began. A waiter zipped in and out, keeping their drinks filled.
Twenty minutes later, I’d almost nodded off out of boredom when one of the men raised his voice and clutched the frightened waiter’s arm. The boy’s eyes grew wide and he tried to pull away from the shimmering horned man. Shimmering? With horns? How the heck does anyone shimmer and grow horns? But that was the only way I could describe the man. I rubbed my sleep-heavy eyes and squinted. Had the man actually shimmered? Were the horns real or an oddity of his hairstyle? Or, in a more logical explanation—because I’m all about logical explanations—was the combination of semi-sleep and the Hotlanta heat getting to me? Before I could decide, Kaine nodded farewell and slipped into the limo. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and followed, determined to keep up my secret-agent act.
Ten minutes later, I watched in horror as my presumably loyal hubby waltzed into a strip joint. Granted, it was a very high-dollar establishment boasting the class of a gentleman’s club but, let’s face it. A strip joint is a strip joint no matter what you call it. The only difference was the neighborhood.
But what was my presumably devoted hubby doing in a place like that? Did Kaine have a fascination with ladies of the night? Was he already sexually bored with me? Perhaps even visiting a specific exotic woman? Again, the redhead invaded my mind, but I couldn’t imagine her as a dancer. Maybe she was one of those incredibly well-dressed madams? Besides, who goes to a strip joint in the middle of the day? I glanced around the almost full parking lot. Apparently lots of people did.
My stomach grew more knotted and nauseous. What should I do now? Just as I’d decided to confront him, he came out. He’d almost gotten back into the limo when a very large skuzzy man dressed in a ratty jacket ran out, calling his name. Instantly, Fitz—a larger, bulkier, and definitely scarier-looking version—jumped from inside the limo, coming to stand at Kaine’s side. Her stance, her vicious snarl boasting a row of shark-like teeth was an obvious deterrent
to the man rapidly approaching her boss. I held my breath, alarm tightening my neck, and waited for the man to pull out a gun or knife. Fitz stepped in front of Kaine, protecting him. Instead of attacking, however, the man dropped to his knees and bowed his head. Kaine stepped around Fitz, waved his hand over the man’s head, then slipped into the limo with Fitz following closely behind. I watched dumbfounded at the Godfather-like scenario. Yet when the man stood up, I knew it was me, not Kaine, who was in trouble.
Is that a tail? I rubbed my eyes, certain I couldn’t have possibly seen a gray tail sticking out from under the man’s jacket. Omigod. I’m losing it. Call the men in white coats and tell my husband I’m sorry he married a nutcase. Not only had I seen his skin-and-bones assistant turn into a muscled bodyguard with lethal teeth, but I’d seen a man sprout a tail. What the holy hell was happening to me?
Mini-Pam, recharged at last, decided to turn on and join my little escapade. “May I be of assistance, Mrs. Delcaluca?”
I jumped, startled by the device resting on the passenger seat. “Jesus, Mini-Pam, you scared the crap outta me.” I looked back, but the man was gone. Should I say anything to Mini-Pam? Although my logical brain was apparently slipping away, I still had enough pride to keep my yap shut.
She smiled prettily. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to turn on again without warning you.” Her dimples popped out. “But if you want me to warn you, I’ll have to turn on.”
I took a few moments to pull myself together. “Yeah, it’s a regular catch-forty-two.”
Could a machine giggle? If so, she did one helluva job. “I believe the phrase is a catch-twenty-two. Not forty-two.”
Had I just been put into my place by a bunch of metal and wires? “Whatever.”
I mentally dismissed her. What should I do? I couldn’t keep following Kaine around all day, and after what I’d seen, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Sooner or later, Gerald or Fitz—why didn’t I notice her earlier?—was bound to notice the bright red car trailing them. Still, how else was I to find out what my hubby was up to? I had no choice but to continue my 007 routine.
