by Leigh Duncan
That wasn’t true. It wasn’t daydreaming about the guys on the force that had nearly gotten him killed that afternoon. But pointing that out would probably lead down a road he did not want to travel, and he sensed he was running out of time to head her off. He reached for a topic that would give them some breathing room.
“What about that guard? You going to let that guy get away with stealing money from your company because you don’t want to see me?” It was weak, he knew, but his thoughts were all over the map. “We’re still working on that, aren’t we?” He knew the answer before he even saw her shake her head.
“Yeah, well, the guard is not an issue anymore. If you had returned my phone calls this afternoon, you’d already know that.”
Despite the ocean breeze blowing steadily in his face, Brett could barely breathe. His arms crossed, he asked, “What are you talking about?”
“The CEO decided to let Mason off if he returned the money.”
He knew thieves like he knew the back of his hand. “He’ll never do that,” he scoffed. “Never in a million years.”
“It’s already done. Mason signed the papers in my office today. It’s over, Brett. As finished as we are.” Her voice sounded so dead, she might as well be delivering a eulogy.
Anger spiked his heart into overdrive. “And what did you get out of the deal? Another promotion?” When she refused to answer, he turned away.
Yelling at her wasn’t going to patch the hole that threatened to drain all the good out of their relationship. If he was going to win her over, he had to be calm, to think rationally. He looked at the dark ocean.
The tide was nearly out. Usually, crabs and periwinkles played hide-and-seek among the shells that littered the exposed beach. On this moonless night, clouds obscured the stars. The swath of sand lay flat and black, as lifeless as his heart.
“You never intended to prosecute him, did you? You were just stringing me along until you got what you wanted. It was all about you from the very beginning, wasn’t it?” he asked.
He was so deep into his own pain that he didn’t see her blur past. When he finally turned, she was gone. Staring at the empty space where Stephanie had stood, Brett swallowed past his broken heart, hiked up his pride and headed for the one place where he knew he’d be welcome.
Chapter Ten
A quick trip to Ohio helped Stephanie survive the first brutal days after the breakup, but all too soon it was time to slap bandages over the empty space in her heart where Brett used to live, and get her head back into the game of climbing the corporate ladder. As soon as she sat in the kitchen where she and Brett had shared their first meal and their first kiss, she realized time alone would not heal her broken heart. So much of her experience in the Sunshine State revolved around the hunky but oh-so-full-of-himself cop, her heart would never mend until she filled the vacuum his absence created.
To do that, she needed a plan.
Unwilling to trust her life to random electrical circuits, she pushed her BlackBerry aside. Life plans deserved a permanent monument. With no stone or chisel handy, she settled for paper and pencil.
Keep your eye on the goal, she wrote at the top of the page. She had the skills to succeed as CEO. All she needed was time and a few lucky breaks. While she couldn’t control the latter, with Brett out of the picture, she was swimming in the former.
“Look out, George,” she whispered.
She would join a gym to exercise her body and take a class at the local college to exercise her mind. That still left some free time so, following her dad’s advice, she jotted Find a new boyfriend at the bottom of her list.
Seeing the words in black and white made her stop to think. Her dad had advised her to get back on the horse, but what did he know? She was pretty sure the man had never been horseback riding. Maybe she should give her heart time to mend before she risked getting thrown again. She edged her V-neck shirt aside and took a peek. At the rate she was healing, she’d be whole in, oh, thirty or forty years. She drew a careful line through the last entry and added Buy some new shirts to her list. Her Florida wardrobe simply revealed too much.
For the next few weeks she concentrated on Step One, barreling through days that stretched long past midnight, until exhaustion finally sent her to bed where she managed a few restless hours before starting all over again. Through it all, her heart remained wounded and raw. Though the pain didn’t ease, the long hours began to pay dividends.
Forty-two days and ten hours after the breakup, Stephanie stood at her office window absently watching the morning sky turn from pink to gold while her printer spat out a memo green-lighting her request for a company picnic. Knowing Corporate would never approve a hurricane party, she had sold the idea of a morale-boosting celebration to mark the end of a successful quarter. The home office was pleased with the idea, especially after she pointed out the good PR they could generate by including local charitable groups in the festivities. The picnic was the latest in what was quickly becoming a string of accomplishments and one she had lobbied hard for since John Sanders wanted it so badly.
“We have to do something for our family,” insisted the man who had become her mentor.
Stephanie’s brow furrowed and she propped one hand at the waistband of her narrow black skirt while she studied the list of local groups the home office wanted her to invite. There was at least one she didn’t recognize. Hoping John could tell her what a PAL was, she hit his speed dial button and waited for the company founder’s usual effusive greeting.
“Stephanie, what’s up?” asked a gruff voice.
Okay, so she deserved the brush-off. The last time he had called, she was in a meeting. The time before that, she had had to cut their call short when Corporate buzzed in with third-quarter updates. It was no way to treat your mentor but, as he constantly reminded her, getting ahead meant staying on top. She expected that he, having been there and done that, would understand.
“John, I’ve just received some great news from the home office,” she began. “That—”
“And I have news for you,” he broke in. “We can swap stories over lunch. I’ll make reservations at the Italian Courtyard.”
Stephanie wrapped a strand of hair around one finger and gave it a sharp tug. Lunch was not on her agenda, but when the man in charge said, “Let’s,” you found a way, even when the restaurant he chose was closer to home than the office. Whatever her friend had to say, she hoped it was important enough to justify a meeting in such an inconvenient spot.
“Twelve-thirty sharp.”
That last bit wasn’t a request. “I’ll be there,” she said to a line that was already dead.
Shoving her irritation aside, she turned to the details of the picnic. The event for three thousand—employees, families and guests—had to be over-the-top fun. A difficult feat to pull off under any circumstances, it was even more so when the hard crust over her wounded heart made her apathetic toward practically everything. Despite her own feelings, she was determined to do a good job and by the time she pushed away from her desk at precisely twelve o’clock, most of the arrangements had been made.
“I’ll be back at four,” she reminded her secretary. “Everyone who volunteered to help with the picnic has been notified and assigned their tasks. I’ll line up donations for door prizes and the like this afternoon. The only thing left is to invite the youth groups.”
“Already on it,” the efficient Ralinda answered. “Everyone but PAL has confirmed. I’ve left a message for their director.”
PAL, the mystery group. Stephanie considered asking about it until the alarm on her BlackBerry sounded. If she didn’t leave that minute, she’d be late for her lunch date. Not a good idea, considering John already sounded miffed. With a quick “Good job,” she was out the door.
The scent of orange blossoms drifted in the breeze and Stephanie stretched, glad to be outside on a warm fall day. It was definitely better than watching the weather through the windows of her office, and she realized
John might be on to something. A late lunch beneath trellised vines where the scent of garlic and oregano blended with salty ocean air—it might be just what the doctor ordered.
Or not…since John had requested a table indoors.
Once they were tucked into an alcove off the bustling main dining room where murals and twinkling lights defined the ambience, she expected the older gentleman to get right to the point. She was wrong. While Frank Sinatra crooned in the background, John kept the conversation light as he swirled shrimp and scallops through a fragrant marinara sauce. Stephanie did her best not to look antsy. She speared a piece of the grilled chicken in her Caesar salad and wished he’d get on with whatever had brought them there. Over tiramisu and cannoli, he finally did.
“What happened to that young man you were seeing?” John asked without preamble.
Thinking of Brett caused a familiar ache in her chest. She sank her spoon into the tiramisu and held it there so she wouldn’t rub the sore spot. “We broke up.” She couldn’t help it if there was more vinegar in her answer than she wanted.
“Not seeing anyone new?”
She abandoned her spoon to the dessert plate and grabbed her water glass. Where was this conversation headed?
“No. No one,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”
A cryptic smile played around the corners of John’s mouth. “I don’t mean to pry.” He broke off a piece of cannoli before speaking again. “Well, I do. But for a good reason.”
Stephanie stilled. If her mentor made a pass, it would ruin their relationship. She tightened her grip on the glass until her fingers ached.
Letting her hang, John sipped his coffee, settled the cup into his saucer and blotted his lips. Then he cleared his throat and beckoned her forward, clearly signaling his wish to share a secret.
“Space Tech is my family in more ways than you know.”
Without interrupting, Stephanie let her eyes fill with questions while relief sighed over her lips. Whatever John wanted, his focus would always be on the business.
“My wife and I chose not to have children in order to give birth to this company. She was the perfect helpmate, my Margaret. In the early days when I worked out of our garage, she was the company secretary and treasurer. After our first success, she entertained all the right people and maintained the right connections. As a result, we had thirty good years together. A bit too busy. Hmmph.” He blinked watery eyes before continuing. “We looked forward to taking all those vacations we missed, told ourselves we’d get to it after I retired. But the time to step down never seemed quite right. And then she was gone, and those plans ended.”
What did you say when a friend exposed the unexpected sorrow of his life? “I’m sorry,” sounded too trite. “You must miss her terribly,” Stephanie murmured.
John waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’m just an old retired fogy with nothing to give except advice.”
The remark called for an argument and Stephanie hurried to say, “You could never be that, John. The board of directors would welcome you back. Aren’t you still a majority stock holder?”
He chuckled, clearly amused by her question. “Yes, I still have a fair share of stock in the company, but that’s not the point.” He cleared this throat. “This child of mine, Space Tech, is all grown up and has moved on. Like any father, I’m proud of it, but it doesn’t need me anymore. And like any young adult, it would resent my trying to exert any real authority over it. No, it’s time for Space Tech to have a younger, more vibrant leader at the helm.”
Stephanie no longer needed a road map to know where John was taking the conversation. She scooped a bite of ladyfinger and relished the combination of rum and marsala as it slid down her throat. The rich tiramisu tasted like success.
“You could have a real influence on the company’s future,” John continued. “You’ve made all the right choices so far. Not developing a serious relationship while you were in Ohio. Breaking things off with that young policeman before he derailed your career. Tough choices, but you’ll face tougher ones along the line. I have big plans for you, my dear. You have what it takes to become the first female corporate head of Space Tech.”
Stephanie placed her spoon back on the saucer. Okay, so tiramisu wasn’t quite as rewarding as she’d thought it would be, and John was seriously misinformed. True, she hadn’t dated much during her four years at corporate headquarters, but at the time she was living at her parents’ where she could save every penny. Even if she had wanted to indulge in casual sex—Not!—bringing a date home was against the house rules.
Nor had she called it quits with Brett because he interfered with her career. Her ex-boyfriend was the one who valued job and friendships above their relationship, not the other way around.
John kept talking. Whether he was ignoring her discomfort or didn’t see it, she couldn’t tell.
“Statistically, most marriages fail. You’ve done well to avoid it. And children are out of the question, of course. No matter what the glossy magazines say, the head of a major corporation can’t have it all. The company has to be your family, like it was mine. I can’t tell you how happy I am to find someone who shares my commitment to Space Tech.” His speech-making done, he flashed a father’s proud smile before he motioned for their check. “So, are you ready to pack your bags for your next assignment? How does Washington sound?”
Though she prided herself on being cool when problems turned up the heat, Stephanie’s teeth rattled against the cup as she gulped coffee. John made being groomed for leadership in a major corporation sound like taking vows and entering a nunnery.
Was that what she wanted? Not at the expense of a home and a family, she didn’t. Unfortunately for her, she wanted it all with the one person who couldn’t put her first in his life.
Beneath the table, her fingers drummed her thigh. Since she couldn’t have the future she wanted with Brett, shouldn’t she take what she could get?
She would have sworn the words “Thank you very much!” were on the tip of her tongue, so saying, “I’m going to need a few days to think this over,” surprised her. “I hope you don’t need my answer today.”
“Perfect!” John chortled. He rubbed dry, age-spotted hands together greedily before clasping his fingers. “A good leader never rushes the important decisions. Take your time,” he said with a conspiratorial wink. “I think you’ll make a fine CEO one day.”
Back at the car, Stephanie’s thoughts were so jumbled she paid scant attention to the familiar yellow slip tucked under her windshield wiper. Crumpling the latest in a series of unwanted presents from various “Brett is my buddy” officers into a ball, she tossed it onto the backseat. John, however, did more than glance.
“Stephanie?” he asked with an incredulous look. “How’s your driving record?” He hooked a thumb toward the rear of the car where a dozen or more paper balls littered the floor.
She felt laughter bubble up and clamped a stifling hand over her mouth. “Never date a cop,” she said, forcing a lighthearted smile. “More to the point, don’t break up with one.”
John leaned on his cane and issued a warning. “A bad driving record could influence your career.”
He had a point.
“Not a single moving violation since the day I got my license,” she answered. “Lately, I’ve acquired enough warnings to paper a small room, but I tell you, it’s made a better driver of me.”
“Hmmph.” John, apparently, didn’t find humor in either her answer or the situation. “It reminds me of a young boy pulling a girl’s pigtails to get her attention. Put an end to it.”
“I’ll put a stop to it today,” she promised before the older man climbed into his own car.
As Stephanie watched Space Tech’s founder drive off, she wondered if he could be on to something. Was Brett trying to get her attention? John’s opinions to the contrary, she knew it was possible to balance home and family and a successful career. You just had to have the right m
an in the mix.
Was Brett that man?
She’d had her doubts there for a while, but if—as John suggested—Brett was trying to get her attention…She shivered despite the heat.
She would have to call. Not see him, no. One glimpse of his rugged good looks and powerful physique and she’d fall into his arms without asking a single question. And she had to do it before she lost her nerve.
Once she crossed the causeway on her way back to the office, Stephanie maneuvered between choppy blue water and the drooping magnolias that lined a narrow twisting road. She spun the wheel onto the first of several residential cut-throughs that ran between the river and busy US1. Only a block from sprawling riverfront parcels with their million-dollar minimansions, older homes sprouted primly from thick lawns divided by woody bougainvillea and hibiscus hedges. She hit the brakes in front of one with a For Sale sign in the yard.
Already her hands had grown so damp she was forced to rub them on her skirt. On the edge of losing her nerve, she whipped out her cell phone and punched the number she had been unable to forget. Her anxiety ratcheted up with every ring until one of her high-heeled feet drummed the floorboard while she waited for an answer.
By the fifth ring, she was certain she had missed her chance. She was just waiting for the beep so she could deliver her speech to voice mail when, with a click and a groan, Brett came on the line.
“Hul-lo. Lincoln here,” said a voice that sounded as if it had spent all night in a smoky bar. Which was ridiculous, Stephanie knew. Despite the cigarette burns scarring its furniture, Sticks N Tips had gone smoke-free along with practically every other bar and restaurant in Florida.
“Brett,” she said and then stopped, wondering if she needed to introduce herself.
“Stephanie?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded a lot more alert.
