Show and Tell

by Jasmine Haynes

  What Trinity needed was some good old-fashioned girl talk to help her devise a plan of attack. Back at her desk, she sent an immediate distress text message to Faith and Josie inviting them to dinner. Then she e-mailed Scott because she couldn’t stand getting his voice mail one more time. Hearing his recorded voice was no longer enough.

  Short and sweet. “If you want me to call you tonight, then you better send me your cell number.”

  Now all she had to do was get through an Inga-infested afternoon.

  HIS heart beat faster when he saw her e-mail in his in-box. Getting ready for audit, too many numbers fogging his brain, and Ron Rudd going on about the bottom line had drained him and kept him in meetings. He’d missed her. Badly. For two straight nights, he’d dreamed of making kinky love to her. He hadn’t gotten enough of her. He hadn’t even touched her yet.

  “Scott, have you got a few minutes?”

  Damn. He almost said no. Grace Bunnell was his controller and exceptionally capable. If she wanted a few minutes, it was something important. Despite his instant hard-on at nothing more than a virtual address, he shut down his personal e-mail.

  Pulling the chair back opposite his desk, Grace settled and crossed her legs. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing a shorter skirt. He couldn’t remember seeing her knees before. Or that much thigh. She’d been the picture of prim and proper, yet there’d been her recent nasty divorce. She’d told him because she wanted to assure him it wouldn’t interfere with her work. Interesting, perhaps she’d started dating. Good for her. It wasn’t his business, though, and he certainly wouldn’t ask.

  “What can I do for you, Grace?”

  She swung her leg, reminding him instantly of Jezebel’s high heel slipping off, the way she’d leaned down, slid it on, then trailed her fingers all the way back up her leg, forcing his eyes to follow. Damn. He could not stop thinking about the woman.

  “It’s about this prototype we’re buying from Green Industries. They want half the cost of the gold up front. According to their CEO, they buy their metal on consignment, but they have to fund the first shipment, and they don’t have any gold reserves at this time.”

  “How much cash are we talking about?” Green did plating, bonding, and machining. They’d come in with a good bid on some components for the Millennium 5 wet-environment prealigner for robotic wafer manufacturing. The new machine would launch in six months.

  Grace recrossed her legs, and the skirt rode higher. He could almost swear something flickered in her eyes, as if she were watching for his reaction. Then she named a dollar figure. It was reasonable.

  “That’s fine.” He tapped a couple of keys and brought up the cash forecast. “We’ve got it covered.” Why was she asking? “You don’t have to check with me on something at that level.”

  She blinked. “I know, I just . . .”

  A good-looking woman, pretty brown hair, in decent shape, she tended toward pastel colors, blouses, and knee-length skirts. But yeah, if he wasn’t mistaken, she had changed her wardrobe to shorter skirts, and today, a sweater that molded to her chest. He hadn’t noticed when she’d made the change.

  “Is something bothering you about Green?” he asked.

  “Uh, no.” She stood, straightened her skirt.

  He got the oddest feeling she was trying to draw attention to it. Was she expecting a compliment on the new attire? He never made personal comments. When she’d started crying in his office the day she’d told him she wouldn’t let the divorce get in the way, he’d awkwardly handed her a tissue. He hadn’t been good with a woman’s tears since the girls were over ten. And when they cried about boys, damn, he’d wanted to come out swinging.

  “Well”—Grace backed toward the door—“I’ll authorize the wire transfer then.”

  Once she was gone, he cocked his head at the open office door. Weird. Something else was going on. He wondered if someone had sexually harassed her, and she didn’t quite know how to speak up. Nah. Grace wouldn’t let anyone pull any crap.

  He opened his e-mail and typed in his cell number.

  Glancing at his watch, he had hours to go. Hell, knowing Jezebel, she’d call him at midnight just to keep him on his toes.

  “HOW long has she worked there?” Josie dipped her bread in the balsamic vinegar, then gave a to-die-for moan of pleasure. “God, I love this stuff. Don’t let me have any more or I won’t eat my dinner.”

  Trinity had ordered the pine nut salad because she wanted to save room for every last crumb of brandy-soaked bread pudding. They’d commandeered a quiet booth tucked in the back corner of Vatovola’s, her very favorite restaurant. She usually shared the bread pudding with Faith—or whomever she was dining with—but she’d never allowed herself more than one mind-blowing bite. All afternoon, except when she was fantasizing about Scott, she’d dreamed about feasting on the whole dessert.

  “I have no idea how long she’s been there.” She tipped her head, visualizing Daddy’s Christmas parties and company picnics. “You know, I think it might be five years or so.”

  “And you didn’t even know her name until your boss introduced you?” Josie let her jaw drop for emphasis.

  Faith didn’t say a word, concentrating instead on her own balsamic-dipped bread. That was the difference between the two cousins. Josie came out with whatever was on her mind while Faith always thought through every nuance of what she wanted to say. Then again, maybe she was feeling the baby.

  Sitting in the booth across from her, Trinity patted her hand. “You okay?”

  Faith smiled. “I don’t want to get in the middle of the argument I see coming.”

  “We don’t argue,” Josie said. She tucked locks of her unruly dark hair behind her ear. “We discuss vociferously.”

  Trinity liked Josie’s forthright manner. She said it like it was. Trinity needed to hear it that way, because Faith’s toned-down-to-protect -her-best-friend’s-feelings method didn’t always get through Trinity’s thick skull. Trinity readily admitted she had one.

  She went back to the vociferous discussion with Josie. “I bet you don’t know everyone’s name down at Castle.”

  Josie waved her bread. “Of course, I do.”

  “Every single one?” Trinity held up her finger when Josie opened her mouth. “Think about it a second.”

  “I don’t need to think about it. I know them all.”

  “But,” Faith interjected, “you’ve worked at Daddy’s company since you got out of college, Josie.”

  “Trinity went practically every day to the plant for one reason or another even before she started this new job. It’s the same thing.”

  Josie was right. Trinity often popped down to say hello to her father or Lance or have a daughterly chat with Verna. Or if there was a particularly cute guy. Not that Daddy would ever have approved of her dating an employee, but Trinity did like to look. In fact, that’s how she’d met Connor, when he worked for Daddy, and she’d known right away that he’d be right for Faith. Look how perfect that had turned out.

  But she was getting off topic here. “All right, so I totally blew it.” She threw up both hands in surrender. “But that’s water under the bridge now. How do I fix it?”

  “Well . . .” Josie was saved from having to answer by their waiter’s timely arrival.

  “Salad for you.” He placed Trinity’s pine nut extravaganza in front of her, beaming at her with pearly whites from within a nicely trimmed mustache. “And salad for the little momma.” He gave an equally sweet smile to Faith. “And the teriyaki skirt steak for you.” Hmm, was that an extra heavy-duty smile for Josie? “Anything else I can get you lovely ladies?”

  Faith held up her glass. “More water with lemon, please?”

  A moment later he sent over a busboy with the water pitcher and a plate of lemon quarters.

  The salad, pine nuts with vinegar dressing over tart greens, was yummy. Before she’d always picked off the pine nuts. What a waste. “I’ve been comparing the whole problem to fund-
raising.”

  “Huh?” Josie followed up the inelegant sound with a grimace.

  Trinity savored another bite of salad even as she found herself eyeing Josie’s skirt steak and garlic mashed potatoes. They smelled divine. “Fund-raising is like being a supervisor. You’ve got all these worker bees that you have to organize and somehow make sure they do what needs to be done.”

  Trinity was an expert. She beguiled, soft-shoed, bribed, sweetened the pot. And if that didn’t work, she stopped giving the helper any tasks. Hence the problem. In order to be successful, she needed Inga’s help.

  Why couldn’t she get Inga to like her? That was the problem. “I don’t know what that woman wants,” she concluded.

  “You mean besides your job.” Faith hit the nail on the head.

  “She’s not getting that. I am not giving up.” It came down to a matter of pride. She would make this job work and her father proud of her. Not that he thought she was a dilettante, but maybe he did see her as more decorative than useful.

  She polished off her salad, finding the last of her greens almost as bitter as that thought.

  “Get to know her better.” Josie pushed her plate away, the meat devoured, but she’d hardly touched the garlic potatoes.

  No. Trinity would not ask to finish them. She had to save room for bread pudding. “She won’t let me. Every time I attempt a friendly personal comment, like whether she has family or whatnot, she tells me it’s none of my business.”

  “What a bitch,” Josie said. Ah, finally, they agreed on something. “Have you taken her out to lunch yet?”

  Trinity felt her chest seize up in horror. “Why on earth would I subject myself to that? It’s the only time I can get away from her.” She’d go crazy.

  “Josie’s right, Trinity.”

  “But Faith, she’ll think I’m doing a snow job on her.”

  Then she smelled the brandy sauce wafting on the air. Her tummy rumbled in anticipation. She’d have the bread pudding now, and Scott on the phone later. What could be better than her two most favorite desserts?

  Their waiter set down the two bowls and smiling, took away the dirty plates. Josie picked up her fork. “You two have gone on and on about this so much, I have to try.”

  Trinity held her own fork poised to stab. “I didn’t ask for your skirt steak.”

  Faith looked at her as if her lipstick was smeared on her teeth. “You’re not going to eat all that, Trinity.”

  “Oh yes, I am.”

  “You’ve never eaten a whole dessert.” Faith put down her own fork and touched the back of Trinity’s hand. “Are you sick?”

  “I’m tired of denial.”

  “I think she’s having a nervous breakdown,” Josie added. “I mean, last week you had ice cream.”

  “I even bought a gallon and put it in the freezer.” Yet truly, tasting Scott was far more exquisite.

  They stared at her.

  “What?”

  “We didn’t think you meant all that stuff.” Josie spoke for both of them.

  Trinity looked to Faith. “You didn’t think I’d stick with the job?”

  “It wasn’t that,” Faith argued. “I was afraid you were jumping in before you were ready to make too many decisions about anything. ” She rolled her lips between her teeth, then puffed them back out. “I mean, after Harper and everything.”

  That could very well be how her changes came across. “This is more than Harper. This is about my life and why I did all the things I did and how I’m going to make sure I start doing the things I really want to do.” And make her father proud. He needed something after his disappointment in Lance.

  Faith gazed at her a long moment. “And is this job what you really want?”

  Trinity gave her the grace of mulling over the question. She wanted to feel in control, but she also wanted to be useful, have a purpose, accomplish something in her life that she could look back on with a good feeling. Something more than having brought Faith and Connor together or cajoling millionaires into donating money. Not that it wasn’t worthy, but it wasn’t enough. At this point, she didn’t think her mother would have beamed with pride over her daughter’s accomplishments. Then again, if her mother was alive, Trinity wondered if she’d ever have fallen for Harper in the first place. She’d have been a different person.

  She wanted to be a different person now. “Yes, this is something I want.”

  “Then take Inga out to lunch,” Faith concluded. “Take all your employees out for a get-to-know-you lunch. It can’t hurt.”

  Trinity stared at Faith. She’d gotten prettier with pregnancy, and her hair shone like a red gold halo. Or maybe it was loving and being loved in return. Whatever the reason, Faith was absolutely beautiful. And smart. “You know, that’s why you two are my very best friends in all the world.”

  Josie snorted. “Right.” But her dark eyes sparkled, and a smile she tried to hide lifted her mouth.

  “It’s true. I love you both. You have all the right answers.” She’d ask all her girls out to lunch tomorrow and start her campaign to win over Inga.

  “Hear, hear.” Faith raised her water, and both Josie and Trinity tapped it with their wineglasses.

  “And what’s the toast to?” Appearing virtually out of nowhere, Connor leaned down to kiss the top of Faith’s head.

  “To best friends,” Trinity quickly said. She didn’t want to talk about her job. Faith would already have told Connor, of course, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him. What if he said something disparaging? Of course, that wasn’t doing him justice, because Connor was a big old sweetie, but . . . she didn’t want to talk about it.

  “And you”—Josie stabbed a finger at him—“are only here to make sure we aren’t corrupting your wife.”

  Trailing his finger down Faith’s arm, he gazed at her. It was so sweet, Trinity got that same ache she’d had the day of the baby shower. Tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and handsome, he’d let Faith capture him utterly.

  Trinity almost closed her eyes against the sudden shard of pain that wedged up under her ribs. She wasn’t jealous. She was oh so happy for Faith and Connor and the baby.

  She just . . . wanted. Something. Anything. That all-powerful, all-consuming feeling Scott gave her when he moaned for her, came for her.

  “You ready to go, sweetheart?” Connor was totally overprotective. He didn’t want Faith driving in the dark, as if being pregnant somehow impaired her night vision. Trinity had picked her up, but Connor insisted on taking her home.

  Or maybe he wanted to take a night drive in the mountains. She and Faith didn’t talk explicitly about sex, especially as it pertained to Connor, but they had shared a smile or two about Connor’s love of driving, with a hint of the things he liked to do in some of those little pull-outs along the road.

  Harper had never suggested a drive in the mountains.

  “We’re done,” Trinity said, because she hated her maudlin thoughts, and she so needed to stop analyzing every adoring look that Connor fastened on Faith. “We’ll get the waiter to box up the rest of our bread pudding because I am not wasting a bite.”

  Beside Faith, Connor merely raised his eyes to stare at Trinity beneath his eyelashes.

  “I love bread pudding,” she said in defense. “Besides, Josie wants half of it.”

  Josie opened her mouth, then shut it.