by Adrianne Lee
A slight ache tapped her temples. She frowned, eliciting a tightening on her forehead. Memory zinged through her. The attack in Grant’s office, the stitches. She squeezed her eyes shut, conjuring up the image of the person who’d struck her, but it was no clearer than it had been last night.
Frustrated, she sat straighter and discovered her body felt as sore and tender as her wound. Less than eight hours of sack time did that to her. Some of that great-smelling coffee would fix all that ailed her physically, but nothing could mend her mental agony.
As she stepped from the bed, she spotted Mac’s pillow and blanket beside her. A smile crossed her lips, warming her inside and out, although she’d have thought nothing could do that. She’d underestimated Mac. Completely. She’d have sworn he wouldn’t step foot in this room again—as long as she occupied this bed. But determined as he’d been not to stay with her, he’d done it, anyway. Her smile widened, the warm feeling raising her spirits. What had changed his mind?
She quickly dressed in fresh jeans and a sweater that featured snowmen cavorting on skis. She brushed her hair, applied a minimum of makeup and wandered toward the kitchen. A woman’s voice stopped her in the hall. Did Mac have company? At a quarter to five in the morning? She crept closer, straining to make out what was being said, and realized he was listening to an answering machine.
“Grant, are you there? Pick up if you are,” the woman pleaded. The voice sounded familiar, but Tia couldn’t place it. Where had she heard it? Recently? “I’ll come over if you like. I really need you right now. I know you must need me, too. Or is ‘Ms. Coffee, Tea or Me’ still holding your hand? Really, Grant. You have to tell her.”
Shock stole through Tia. This woman sounded as if she was more to Grant than a concerned friend. She heard Mac swear and realized he knew this woman and what her involvement with Grant was. Tia padded into the kitchen. “Tell me what?”
Mac leaped a foot in the air. He lurched around, his eyes wide, a trapped expression on his cleanly shaven face. He’d had the answering machine volume turned low, apparently thinking only he could hear it. A notepad and pen rested beside a mug of coffee. He’d been writing down the messages.
“What are you doing?”
Mac licked his lips. “Weeding out what needs to be handled now from the stuff that can be put off until after the toy is launched.”
She nodded toward the answering machine. “Which category does that woman fit?”
He sputtered, “I—I, er…”
She scowled at him. “Who was that, Mac? And don’t bother lying—I know you know.”
He grimaced. “Gwen.”
“Gwen?” The name meant nothing to Tia. Then she realized she did know a Gwen. Had met her yesterday. “Gwen Gallagher?”
He nodded.
“Coy Toy’s vice president, Gwen?”
He nodded again.
Her mouth dried. “What did she want to talk to you alone about yesterday, ‘Grant’?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me now.”
He looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do. But she would not be put off. She walked to the coffeemaker and poured herself a full mug, then turned to face him.
The tips of his ears were pink. Whatever he knew, it made him damned uncomfortable. But this was the man who’d held her through the night, who’d kept her nightmares at bay. She trusted him as she trusted no other man. “I’m a big girl, Mac. I can handle whatever it is.”
“I, er, it took me by surprise. I swear I didn’t know anything about it.”
She leaned back against the counter. “About what?”
“Gwen and…and Grant.”
“Gwen and Grant?” What was he saying? No. It couldn’t be. Could it? “Are you telling me Gwen and Grant were lovers?”
He swallowed hard and started waving his hands. “All I know is the minute you were out of the lab, she leaped at me. I was stunned. Last I knew she was living with a guy who worked for Technosoft, so at first I just thought she was spewing out grief at ‘my’ death. But whoa, was I wrong.”
Tia eyed him speculatively, surprise gripping her insides, boggling her mind and releasing a wedge of memory from the previous night. “Gwen is the one you’re sure believes you’re Grant.”
“Yes.”
“And…?”
“And I still think she does.”
“Why?”
He blew out a huge breath. “She insisted she was tired of hiding ‘our’ relationship.”
“Did you remind her that ‘you’ were engaged to me?”
He chuckled, a mirthless little sound, and the tips of his ears were Santa-suit red. “Er, she asked when ‘I’ was going to break off the engagement. Actually she said if ‘I’ didn’t tell you, she would.”
So, her feeling that Grant was pulling away from her was not imagined. She recalled the message about the talk he’d wanted to have with her. Tia sank to the bar stool with a thud. This was the funniest thing she’d heard in weeks. Here she’d been so concerned about breaking up with Grant, and he’d been about to break up with her. She started to laugh.
Mac frowned at her so hard his eyebrows bent into arcs. “What are you laughing at?”
She stopped and rolled her neck. The muscles felt knotted. “Life and its jokes on me. Oh, don’t look so sad. This isn’t the end of my world. But it may mean the end of my involvement in your launch.”
“No.” He shook his head, the fear she’d seen two nights ago standing in his eyes. If she deserted him now, he’d be all alone with no one to trust.
But what choice did she have? “I may have to, Mac. Gwen could be a real problem otherwise. What are you going to tell her if I show up with you every day for the next few days?”
He drank his coffee, mulling over ideas. “I’ll tell her I’ll break off with you as soon as Holly Beary is launched.”
“From the sound of it—” Tia pointed to the answering machine again “—that won’t make her too happy.”
“Tough,” he said confidently, but his certainty faltered as he contemplated the encounter. “I’ll make her see. Somehow.”
Misery crept into his eyes, and she knew he dreaded the confrontation with Gwen. She touched his hand reassuringly. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not looking forward to running into her now, either.”
He smiled wryly. “Are you hungry? Grant has an array of cold cereal and fresh milk, but not much else.”
“Sure. If Gwen decides to challenge my right to ‘you’ even after you call her off, then I’d rather not face her on coffee alone.”
BUD GIBSON’S WAS the lone car in the lot when they parked in Mac’s spot at the plant. Tia made a mental note to call Ginny this morning and arrange a gettogether.
They ascended in Mac’s private elevator as they had yesterday. The third floor was as quiet as a tomb. A shiver crept down Tia’s spine. She stepped closer to Mac. She hadn’t thought the attack last night had affected her much. She realized now she was wrong. She didn’t suppose anyone came away from something like that without feeling vulnerable, and anger bloomed inside her.
Mac unlocked his office, crossed to his desk and called Bud. He told the guard they were in the building, asked if all was secure, smiled at the answer and hung up. He said, “So far, so good. We made it through the night without any incidents or disasters.”
“Hopefully our nemesis limited his or her damages to Grant’s office.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” He retrieved the ring of master keys from his desk. Automatically he checked them for any soapy residue, but found none. “I don’t like creeping around my people’s offices.”
She shrugged. “Desperate times…”
“Exactly.”
Tia followed Mac to Nancy’s office next door. “When I started this company, it was just Gwen and me. I acquired the others one at a time, as the need for their services arose. Grant was right. I believed everything they told me. Didn’t verify anyone’s ref
erences.”
“We’ll do that now.”
“If the records are intact so we can.”
They unlocked Nancy’s office. The personnel files were in a locked drawer of a tall metal filing cabinet. They found the key in her desk. In an unlocked drawer.
“So much for security.” Mac shook his head, wearing a look of disgust. Worry had his mouth thinned, his jaw set. He opened the drawer, seeming braced for anything. A second later she saw his shoulders slump. “They’re here.”
He opened each folder, quickly rifling the papers inside them. “All the pages seem to be right, too.”
“Good.” She let out her own tightly held breath. “Now what?”
“To the copy room.” He pulled the files free and led her down the hall. After checking the machine for paper, they began copying the contents of one folder at a time. As soon as one was complete, Mac returned the folder to the cabinet drawer, while Tia placed the copied pages into a huge envelope. It was taking longer than they’d expected. Daylight began filtering into the room.
Tia’s nerves felt as tight as Christmas-ball hooks. The employees would be arriving soon. Would they get caught at this? By the wrong person? As if on cue, she heard the main elevator open. Tia’s heart skipped a beat.
Mac appeared in the copy-room doorway. “It’s Will.”
“All done here.” Tia’s nerves jostled. She gathered the last sheet and pulled the original from the copier. She handed Mac the closed file and added the copies to the envelope. Scurrying like thieves in the night, they returned the last folder, then relocked Nancy’s office door.
Will Holden’s scream resounded down the hall.
Chapter Ten
Tia and Mac raced down the hall to the end room.
“They’re ruined!” Will shrieked. “Ruined!”
Tia held the precious envelope to her thundering heart. She scanned the office, noting the array of Christmas decorations, all in shades of pink—from the flocked tree to the tiny twinkling lights strung around the walls to the foil bows. She tried to pinpoint the source of Will Holden’s distress.
This area had a skylight over an artist’s table and several display easels, each holding what had clearly been a presentation for Holly Beary. Neon paint obliterated the images, the sales messages. Someone had sprayed them in what appeared to have been a vicious fit of rage.
“Look! Look at this…this abomination!” Will’s arm poked the air like an orchestra leader’s baton. His narrow face was the color of his tree.
“Damned vandals. They’ve destroyed the scans of photos, the page layouts, the point-of-purchase displays. Even the counter cards.” He lifted sheets of paper and let them flutter to the floor like the stuffing from a piñata. “What kind of security have we got in this place, for God’s sake, that someone could walk into a man’s private domain and destroy his work?”
Mac strode to Will’s desk. “I’ll get the security guard right up here and find out.”
Mac lifted the telephone receiver.
Will gasped, reared back in horror, then lunged toward Mac. “No. Don’t touch anything. The police will want to dust for fingerprints.”
Mac kept dialing.
Will shook his head, his artificially gold hair waving slightly. Disbelief widened his gray eyes to the size of billiard balls. “What kind of detective are you that you don’t know that?”
Mac blanched, but managed to keep his voice level. “We aren’t calling the police, Mr. Holden.”
“What?” Will looked ready to explode. “Why not?”
“Because the police would swarm all over your office. They’d spread fingerprint powder. They’d check every corner, every crevice.”
Will nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Mac shook his head. “No, no, no. That would only serve to keep you from reconstructing your ad campaign. Which needs to be done by the end of the day.”
Will’s eyebrows shot skyward. “By the end of the day?”
“Today.”
The head of publicity planted his hands on his hips. “How am I supposed to do that?”
Mac gave him a tolerant grin. “Surely the master copies are at the printers.”
“Well, yes…but—”
“Then you’ll need to get over there, get them reproduced. Then bring them back here and repackage and mail them today.”
“Have you any idea of the time involved?”
“Yes. That’s why I can’t have the police costing you a day’s work. Not with the wages I’m paying you.”
Tia bit back a smile, but Will found nothing funny in the situation. He sputtered so hard she wondered if he’d destroyed the artwork himself. “B-b-but…”
With the pink on his cheeks turning to unsightly splotches, Will stomped to the desk and activated his computer.
Mac barked into the phone, telling Bud to get to publicity pronto.
Beside him Will fiddled with the computer a moment, then his face glowed pink again and a gasp flew from his taut lips. “Well, this is just too much. They’ve deleted the promotional program from my work file.”
Mac dropped the phone into the cradle. “What exactly is that?”
“That—” disdain dripped from Will’s voice “—is the list of names and phone numbers of all my contacts in media land.”
Mac looked sick, as though the cereal he’d eaten was churning in his stomach. “It’s been deleted?”
“Like it never existed.” Will tossed his head like an arrogant elf. Then he gave Mac a sly, wry grin. “Oh, I forgot, you can’t be expected to know anything about the running of this company. This department.”
Tia watched myriad emotions flash through Mac’s eyes. Was Will toying with them? Or did he know Grant was dead? Know he was dealing with Mac?
“What does this mean to the launch?” Anger laced Mac’s words.
“Total disaster.” Will shrugged as though it meant nothing.
The heat drained from Tia’s face and she knew she had to be as white as Holly Beary’s fur. “No.”
Will glanced at her then, spied her bandage and asked, “What happened to you?”
“I ran into a solid object,” she said, wondering if Will had been the one who’d hit her.
He turned his limpid eyes back to Mac. “Really? Like to play rough, do you?”
Mac glared at him. “Did you make a hard copy of your contacts?”
Will smirked. “Remember yesterday when you asked me why I deserved a raise? I guess you’ll see my worth now.”
Mac glowered at Will, who didn’t seem to realize he’d pushed the envelope to within inches of tearing it. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Backup.” Will’s smirk turned to a wide grin. “I always back up my work on disks.”
Mac’s frown remained solid and Tia recalled that Grant backed up his work, too. But the backup disks had been stolen.
She hugged the envelope tighter. “Are you sure the backup disks aren’t gone?”
“Would I mention them in that case?”
She wanted to rail at this infuriating man who kept answering questions with questions. Somehow she managed to keep her cool. Barely. “Why are you so sure they’re here?”
“Because—” he patted his jacket pocket “—I always take them home with me. You don’t think I’d leave them here under the shifty eyes of that redheaded security idiot, do you?”
As though he’d heard himself being spoken about, Bud Gibson walked into the office. “Holy—”
He faced Mac with surprised eyes. “What happened in here?”
“We were hoping you could shed some light on that.” Mac slumped, losing his Grant persona in his dismay. Tia moved to his side, threaded her arm through his and snuggled against him. She meant to touch his spine covertly, but the simple act of linking arms had him tensing, standing taller. Her pulse skated erratically as their body connection sent fingers of heat coursing through her.
Mac glanced at her a second, affection bold in
his gaze, the knowledge creating a war of joy and sorrow in her heart. He returned his attention to the security guard. “When was the last time you checked this floor?”
Bud wore a worried expression, as though he expected to be accused of vandalizing this office himself. “A half hour before you arrived.”
“And the door was locked?” Mac persisted.
“Yes, all the offices were.” Bud shifted his gaze from one to the other. Tia wondered if he was lying. When his hazel eyes met hers, she glanced away. She hadn’t forgotten their confrontation and she wouldn’t court another.
But Bud wasn’t about to ignore her. “What happened T? Somebody conk you?”
She jerked back toward him, scowling. His eyebrows flickered. Was he the one who’d hit her? Or was he as innocent as he seemed?
Mac said, “Did you hear any noises or anything, Gibson?”
Bud glanced at his boss and wiped his hands on his khaki pants. “No. Nothing out of the ordinary, so I didn’t open any of the offices to look in. Guess maybe I’d better do that from here on out.”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Will mumbled.
“A-are you calling in the cop—er, police?” Bud’s face had gone ashen.
“No. But you can help Will clean this up. He has a busy day ahead of him.” Mac covered Tia’s hand with his, locking her to his side, and started for the door. A loving couple for all to see. “Oh, and, Will, make me a hard copy of your backup disk, would you?”
They strode down the hall. Mac held her close and Tia made no attempt to pull free. The morning had barely started and her stress level was higher than the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. Mac’s touch had a more soothing effect than a dozen tranquilizers. A gallon of ice cream.
Too bad she couldn’t enjoy it forever.
NANCY RICE’S DOOR stood open. She was inside, setting up for the day. She looked up as they passed. A frown flickered across her face and quickly disappeared as she batted her eyes at Mac. He pulled Tia closer, offered Nancy a quick hello, then they were inside his office. He shut the door behind them, releasing her with obvious reluctance.
A chill wafted over her as though he’d doused a fire she’d been sitting beside, stealing the warmth surrounding her. With a jolt Tia realized she was starting to care for this man too deeply, be affected by him with an intensity that could only bring her permanent heartache.
