by Teddy Hester
Juliette sighs and waits for it to pass.
“And we’ll know what’s what with everything, including your man, Tony.”
CHAPTER 16
It’s showtime.
The team trickles in and takes their usual seats at my conference table. Tom and Eldon brought their wives, too. Mike’s at my desk on the computer controlling today’s presentation. He lights up when Juliette strides in, but she ignores him, and he deflates. I’d love to hear the story of their night together.
I haven’t seen or spoken to anyone but Janelle since Wednesday’s blowup. Now I study the faces and body language of each person. We’re a basket of nerves. I should have sent Linda for beer.
Cleo enters last. Her eyes find mine, and she gives me a tentative smile. I acknowledge with a nod, but maintain my poker face so I don’t inadvertently spoil what I have planned. “It looks like we’re all here. Does anyone have something to say, or should we jump into it?”
“I’m dying here,” snarks a familiar voice.
I arch a brow at her and send it along with my best stony face. “You think today’s agenda is a laughing matter, Ms. Waiteberry?”
She sniffs. “No. Sorry.”
That’s better, beauty. Wait for it.
“Mike.”
The screen on the wall nearest the table lights up, and thanks to Cleo’s redecoration of the room, everyone can see it.
Mike stands. “Tuesday’s totals were double-checked when I came back to work on Wednesday afternoon.”
Cleo’s sidelong glance flicks my way. I pretend not to see it. Too much to do yet to let her get to me.
“The totals I gave you that night,” Mike continues, “were correct. We were two hundred seventy-seven thousand dollars short of our goal of two million.”
He reveals another set of numbers. “Notices were sent to any guest who hadn’t made a contribution. This figure shows that that yielded another hundred twenty-three grand.”
His program displays another total. “That closed the gap quite a bit, leaving us only one hundred fifty-four thousand shy of two million.”
“Okay,” Tom says. “Good job! So we need to talk about how to cover that bit before the payroll checks are cashed this afternoon.”
Cleo sits forward. “It’s covered, Tom. I just have to phone the bank. They’re ready to make the wire transfer the minute we send them the routing number.”
I have to raise my voice to be heard over the crescendo of chatter. “There won’t be any transfer.”
Conversation stops, and all eyes are on me. “The presentation isn’t finished. Thank you, Mike, I can take it now.”
Mike grins and crosses to the empty chair beside Juliette. The frosty look she gives him would make my balls shrivel, but Mike’s grin just stretches wider. I have to ask Cleo later what she knows about them.
Later. Now I have important things to do. “Wednesday, in a one-sided heart-to-heart conversation, I was reminded that part of my duties as financial planner and investment specialist was to, well, invest. Actually, the reminder was more along the lines of ‘okay, money-man, what have you done for us lately’?”
My hummingbird blushes! That’s a first. And it’s delightful. I’ll have to make sure it happens again and often.
“That a reminder was needed is something for which I very humbly apologize.” I lock onto my client. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
I’ve strung this out long enough. “So I got to work and did my job. With Mike’s help, I performed a little wizardry, which I’m told is my reputation, took a promising tech stock I’d been following for a while, and playing with time zones and arbitration, managed to earn this amount for the project.”
The screen reads 18,000,000.
“Wha-a-a-?” somebody says.
“OH MY EFFIN’ GOD,” is the song my sweet birdie warbles to the stunned group.
Tom jumps to his feet. “We have money? We have the money!" He leans down to throw his arms around his wife and kiss her full on the lips. "Eldon, we need to get back to the theater to let in the city inspector! Let's get this wrapped up ASAP, before something else happens.”
Eldon starts to get up, when a new voice announces, “No need. Here’s your certificate.” A middle-aged man in a ten-thousand-dollar suit strolls in.
“It’s the damn Grand Central Station in here today,” Cleo mutters.
“Are you the city inspector?” Eldon asks. “I’ve never seen you at any of my sites before.”
“No, he’s no inspector,” Tom says, glowering. “That’s Nick Elliott. He’s a property developer.”
Juliette sits up straighter. “The man who offered to buy the Regal?”
“One and the same, Beautiful,” Nick says, winking at Juliette, who doesn’t give him much more notice than she did Mike. “And I come bearing gifts.” He extends an envelope to Tom.
Tom’s brows lower, and he reluctantly accepts the unsolicited gift. He opens it, studies the contents, and falls backward onto his chair. Nick scoops up the envelope and turns to me. He hands me the contents and says over his shoulder, “I believe this man can handle it for you, Tom. It’s what you pay him for, isn’t it?”
His grin mirrors mine as we shake hands. “Can I have a couple of minutes, Tony?”
I glance at the others. Tom and Eldon are crying on each other's shoulder, and their wives are sitting, stunned and confused, Cleo patting one of them on the hand. The rest of the team is alternating between congratulations and stupefaction.
"Nick, I don't think anybody's gonna miss me right now. I'm all yours."
*****
“Thanks, Nick. You’re a man of your word.” I offer him the seat of his choice in the sitting area.
“Cleo been sprucing you up?” he asks, examining one of the pillows with the jeweled faces.
“It’s a compulsion.” I sit in the club chair closest to the end of the sofa he sits down on.
“She’s a lovely girl, Tony. My advice? Don’t let her stray too far away from you if you want to stay together. Juggling two successful careers places a lot of demands on a relationship. But that’s not what I came to talk to you about.”
“What’s up?”
He leans forward, elbows on knees, fingers laced. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, a few years, I guess, watching your progress.”
Wow. I had no idea he even knew who I was. It’s strange to find out that a power-player whose career I’ve followed has also been following mine. “Thank you.”
“You’re sharp, and you have talent. What I couldn’t tell, though, was the level of risk you’d tolerate. Do you play everything by the book, straight down the line, or do you take chances? And if you take chances, what do they look like, and under what conditions do you take them? Important questions to answer in our investment field.”
More questions about my risk-taking. The message is really being hammered into me.
Nick continues. “I was never going to let Tom lose his family legacy. You’re right. He’s a nice man with a nice family. He and I have had a couple of rough dealings that have left him not trusting me, but I have no animosity toward him at all.”
“I don’t understand. Why, then, did you do it?” I ask.
“It was a test to find out more about you. I wanted answers to those questions. When this situation presented itself, I took it, unscrupulous as it was. Soon, I’ll invite Tom to lunch and come clean with him, too.”
“I can’t say I approve of your methods. That man’s been in hell.” We all have.
Sitting back, he dips his sleek, silver head. “Understandable. Maybe I should take the whole family to dinner. I’ll work that out with them.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate the opportunity to let go of some past issues with you.”
Nick waves a hand as if to wave away the subject. “You almost flunked the test, Tony. Seeing you sitting on the sidelines while the rest of the group was hustling to help Tom was a concern.”
“Until you made me m
ad.”
“Yep. I don’t know which was the stronger trigger—my treatment of Tom or my comments about Cleo. But something revved you up, and it was like watching the Olympics. You didn’t miss a beat or a trick. You took a chance—with your own money, I noticed, so it never would have compromised your client—you knew how far to take the chance, and you knew when it was time for your run to end. That’s why they call you a wizard, son. Anybody can buy and sell stocks. But timing’s a gift, an instinct. And you have it.”
He needs to stop before I blubber like a baby.
“I’d like you to handle one of my accounts, Tony, and I’d be pleased and proud if you’d let me help you get to the next level in your career.”
Since my throat’s too clogged to speak, I excuse myself to the window and let the sea work its magic on me.
When some of the hubbub dies down, I'm ready to press my silk boxer agenda with the team. “Tom, I’m more thrilled for you than I can say—”
“She said plenty,” Tony says in a stage whisper to Nick.
I grimace at the interrupter. “—but I’d still like to sell the calendar. Where is Janelle? I haven’t gotten to see the final mock-up yet, and I wanted to show it here today.”
“Coming!” Janelle hollers, trotting into the office. “Sorry, I just finished it.”
“Oh, let me see, let me see!” I reach for it, but Janelle looks to Tony first. It’s only after he nods that she hands it over to me.
Co-opting my employee, DePaul? I narrow my eyes at him but am completely distracted by the calendar. “Oh, look everybody—these are perfect!”
Flipping quickly through the glossy pages, when I get to September, the image is blank. “Run out of batteries, Janelle?”
Nick’s commanding voice replies. “Not at all. The subject hasn’t had time to pose for a picture yet.”
I stop what I’m doing and scrutinize the speaker. He’s a very distinguished-looking man. Wonder how Tony knows him. He could extend my demographic if only I could talk him into…wait. The subject who hasn’t posed for a photo yet…
“You?” I ask, pointing.
His tanned face crinkles when he smiles. “With you.”
“What?” My gaze snaps across the table at my best friend. Was she in on this? Juliette shrugs her shoulders and doesn’t appear to have any idea what’s going on. But Janelle is ginning like she’s been into the hooch. The men, of course, are oblivious.
He claims my attention again. “I’m Nick Elliott, by the way. And you are…?”
“Uh. Cleo. Cleo Waiteberry.”
“Nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard great things. So what day’s good for you?”
“I, uh, that is, well…oh, hell. Whatever’s good for you is fine with me.”
He chuckles. “Why don’t you and Janelle work something out and let me know. I look forward to hearing from you soon, Cleo. Oh, and don’t let me steal your man’s thunder. Go back and take another look at the rest of the calendar.”
Nick saunters away, and I flip back through the calendar, thinking I’d stopped at every month. But maybe I got distracted with everything going on and—
Tony.
He’s going to do it. He’s marked December for a photo.
Gift-giving time.
My heart is too full.
*****
He’s standing in front of his window when I’m finally able to pull away from the others and look for him. Hands in his pockets, appearing completely at ease, staring out at the ocean.
I snuggle up to his back, slide my arms around his waist and, because of my heels, rest my temple against the side of his head. “You surprised me.”
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” He pulls me around so I’m tucked under his arm, nestled to his side.
A snark about beating me almost pops out of my mouth, but I want to savor this quiet moment of togetherness after two days of stormy silence, so I refrain. “You really came through for Tom. It was impressive.”
“Thanks, in part, to you and your wake-up call.”
I shiver at the memory. “You were so angry. I wasn’t sure you were going to let me talk to you.”
His arm around me tightens. “I was angry. But maybe as much at myself as anything. Your surprise made me feel betrayed, but it also made me feel guilty. Because you were right; I hadn’t done enough on Tom’s behalf.”
“You thought the project too risky.”
“And it was. It was a project for someone with deep pockets and lots of influential contacts, like Nick Elliott.”
Somebody had turned on music and were turning the business meeting into happy hour. We wouldn’t have much more private time. “Who is Nick Elliott, anyway?”
A smile stretches across Tony’s face. “He’s a giant in finance. Fingers in every pie. Think Thomas Crown, for real.”
“So, a billionaire? You got me a photo op with a billionaire?”
His sherry eyes scan my face before he bends his head to kiss me. “Surprise number two.”
“We’ll, he’s sexier than Warren Buffett, that’s for sure. If I’m going to pose with someone—”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Tony growls. “From now on, you pose only with me.”
That gives me a completely different kind of shiver. One I fully expect him to take advantage of later. “For December?”
“For starters.”
“Surprise number three. You were sure on a roll today.”
“I had lots to make up for.”
“Tony, you were so adamantly against the idea of posing in my ad campaign. What made you change your mind?”
“I’m not sure. The way Tom and Eldon reacted caught my attention. Then, when I threw it at Nick in return for his deal with Tom, well, he seemed genuinely pleased for the opportunity to be part of the project. And he certainly has a lot more reputation to lose than I do.”
“You really admire him, don’t you?”
“Yes and no. I don’t particularly like the spot he put Tom and this project in, no matter his objective. But I have a lot to learn from him. Beginning with how the hell he knew as much as I did about what was going on with the project and this team. He even knew about your calendar. I thought we had a mole feeding him info.”
What a horrifying thought. Who would stoop so low, and why? “Oh, no! Did we?”
“He said no, and he’ll show me someday how he mines for insider information.”
“So many surprises, all in one day. And, Tony, all that money you made for Tom! It’s staggering.”
He grins down at me. “Envious?”
“Hell yes.”
I get a sherry-eyed wink for that. “Don’t be. I always give friends and family a nibble when I’m working a profitable deal.”
My head pops up in startled wonder. “I have eighteen million dollars now, too?”
He chuckles and nuzzles my neck. “Not exactly. We’ll talk later about the heavy personal strings attached.”
“Listen to you, being all mysterious and full of surprises. I was afraid I’d lost you.”
His arm pulls me around to face him and hold me close. “Clementine Waiteberry, you didn’t lose me. Oh, I was lost. Lost and confused and wandering in the wilderness. But you didn’t lose me. You found me.”
His kiss is all sorts of promises. None of which I can claim in his office, in the midst of a crowd.
Especially not a crowd insisting on taking the day’s celebration to dinner.
*****
It's barely nine PM, and Tony and I have left the celebration party to go home like octogenarians. At least fatigue was the excuse we gave the others. We weren’t exactly lying. We did go home and get into bed.
And, believe me, bed never felt so good. Well, except maybe for the man lying next to me. He feels pretty good, too. Half-draped over him, I sigh into his bare chest and let my fingers wander at will. “What a day. Are you as exhausted as I am, money-man?”
“Funny you’re not
too tired to tease my dick.”
I grin against a nipple that’s begging for attention. “That is funny. But I’ll stop if you tell me to. You are the boss of the house, after all.”
He lifts his arm from covering his eyes. “That reminds me. We broke up before I got to exercise my boss powers. Now that the reins are firmly back in my hands—What was that? You have something to say?”
“No, Tony, just something stuck in my throat.”
He relaxes his arm back over his eyes. “That’s what I thought. As I was saying, now that the reins are firmly back in my hands, we’re going to begin a regimen of rest and relaxation.”
“Rest and relaxation? That sounds like what people do on a honeymoon.” I grind myself against him very suggestively.
“Rest and relaxation, I say. Early to bed and early to rise—”
I roll on top of him and rock my hips, my belly cradling the steamroller he calls his cock. “Yes, I only have one question about that. See, is it early to bed because you’re early to rise? Or are you early to rise because we’re early in bed?”
He abandons covering his eyes for holding my hips so he can move me the way he wants. “As long as we’re in bed, and at least one of us rises early, who cares about the rest? Now if I could convince you it’s time for you to come…”
*****
Yes, it’s nice to be back in Tony’s bed. He doesn’t know it yet, but I don’t plan to sleep in any other from now on. Truth to tell, I don’t think he’d let me. He’d carry me over his shoulder and throw me back into his bed.
“Cleo?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“We’ll move your things over here in the morning.”
“Whatever you say, King Cock.”
“Good. In that case, you remember that little choking fit where you told me something was stuck in your throat? King Cock says we need to re-examine that phenomenon.”
*****
“Do you know you’re the very first man who hasn’t called me his darlin’ Clementine or sung the song at me?”
“Yeah, I never really understood that song. A miner 49er? Now if they’d sung about 69er, that I can understand. In fact, I’d like a better understanding of it right now. Like that. My darlin’. Clementine. OH! My Darlin! CLEMEN…”
