by Debra Webb
Rock and a hard place, she thought. There were no good options. Even with more time, she had no chance of finding where Kathrein had hidden Gwen and Jackson on her own. The Kathrein real estate holdings offered the old man too many options on top of his endless resources.
As the cable car neared the last stop on the line, a motorcycle passed by, raising the hair at the back of her neck in a little shiver of fear as she thought of the reporter’s accident in Paris. Kathrein had shown her only the wise, occasionally cranky old gentleman when she’d interviewed and subsequently worked for him, effectively masking his ruthless streak.
Rush politely offered his hand as they hopped off the cable car at the stop. “Why don’t we head up to the Presidio?”
“We’re not tourists,” she replied. “And it’s a long walk in these shoes.”
His gaze slid down over her legs, and her body warmed as if he’d touched her. “I can fix that.” He pulled out his phone and started texting.
She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. Of course the hunky billionaire could fix a long walk. Rush loved cars. Just before her move to Chicago, he’d been debating about whether he should invest in an existing car service or purchase a dedicated fleet.
“The driver will meet us on Polk,” Rush said, turning down the block. “Did you rent a car?”
It took her a moment to process such a normal question. “No. It was more practical to catch a shuttle from the airport and book a hotel within walking distance of your office.”
“Practical and expensive.” Rush frowned a little, the expression she remembered as intense concentration.
She knew better than to interrupt whatever puzzle his brilliant mind was sorting out. Her warm affection for him persisted, despite the time and distance. My burden to bear, she thought, with some desperation. He might have said the ball was in her court, but rekindling their relationship would make this all worse. She’d left him when she recognized she would never be his first priority. Walking away from him had been the hardest choice of her life up to that point. She’d never expected him to put her ahead of everything in his world—she’d only wanted to know she ranked among his general top five priorities. As much as she respected the building phase of his business, consistently settling for last place wasn’t in her nature.
“You really don’t have to spend the afternoon with me,” she said as they glanced in store windows.
In the past, when they’d walked this route, he might have taken her hand or draped an arm around her shoulders. Today, they were two comfortable friends out in the city. She told herself to enjoy it while it lasted. By this time next week she wouldn’t have even that much of him.
“I’ve missed you,” he replied. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
Her heart skipped, wanting to imbue those words with significance and meaning. She reminded herself he missed discussing business or market shares or how to fine-tune client proposals with her. He might miss the sexual attraction, though she knew there was no shortage of women willing to take her place in his bed.
Any dent in her ego over that fact was her own fault. She couldn’t blame him for moving on after she’d walked away.
She searched for a neutral topic. “Why were you late to the office this morning?”
“Potential client. You might still be waiting in the office if I hadn’t walked out.”
“You didn’t.” She shook her head.
“Don’t give me that look.” He shrugged, eyeing a display in a florist’s window. “They kept talking in circles. A complete waste of time.” His eyebrows bobbed above his dark sunglasses. “You can smooth it all over for me tomorrow. That will be fantastic.”
Her opinion of his assessment had to wait as the car arrived and Rush gave the driver their destination.
“So what did you decide about the car service?”
“You remember that?”
“Vaguely.” She nodded. She’d thrown herself into work and freelancing, using her remaining energy for Gwen, and still her heart and mind had replayed every marvelous and frustrating minute she’d enjoyed with the man beside her. “So which was it?”
“Made the most sense to buy a small fleet and hire drivers for the day-to-day,” he said.
She didn’t ask about the weekends, knowing all too well how he’d enjoyed taking out his expensive cars for their road trips. On the short drive across town, she returned to the topic of his client, doing her best to remind them both she was his employee and they could conduct business regardless of the setting. He seemed determined to be contrary and leave business at the office today, pointing out new restaurants along with their old favorites.
When the car dropped them near the park, she resolutely turned her back on the yacht harbor and Rush’s house on Marina Boulevard, where she’d spent far too much time with him during their last few months together.
They strolled along in a companionable silence and she savored the sunshine and crisp breezes blowing in from the bay. It was good to be home and this could very well be her last chance to enjoy the area. If she succeeded in rescuing her family, Rush would hardly allow her to walk away unscathed. Whether or not he understood her reasons, the only way to save his reputation would be to expose who caused the breach.
A strand of her hair caught in her lip gloss, and as she flipped her head she caught Rush staring at her. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
His lips quirked up at one corner and he raised a hand to her hair before he checked the motion. “You’re lovely.”
She focused on her breathing while he continued to study her.
“I changed my mind,” he announced.
Her knees turned to jelly at those four words. He couldn’t mean it. She needed to be on the inside of Gray Box if she had any chance at all of recovering the journalist’s documentation for Kathrein and saving her family. “About what?” She forced the question through her stiff lips while she moved to the nearest available bench.
“You should move into the house on Marina,” he said, sitting down. “I know I offered the corporate suite, but you’ve always loved the bay views.”
Her stomach bucked at the idea. She couldn’t impose on his hospitality, couldn’t possibly move in to the guest suite there while he was down the hall with a new girlfriend. The evenings they’d watched the sun set over the bay, glass of wine in hand, swept through her in a tide of nostalgic agony. Not to mention how impossible it would be to meet Kathrein’s demands with Rush in the same house.
“That’s hardly walking distance to the office.” She presented the most logical argument first, praying he didn’t counter with a suggestion to carpool. As he’d outlined her responsibilities, she would be with him much of the time, but not enough that they could get away with only one car. Public transit was decent in San Francisco, but she’d rather rely on her own two feet during the brief time she planned to be here.
“So choose a car. You know I have plenty. Or I can assign a driver to you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Rush, that’s crazy,” she said. The prickly conversation, so similar to being hired by Kathrein, made her queasy. What was it with billionaires tossing money around?
“Impulsive, maybe,” he allowed. “Not crazy.” He tapped a finger to the corner of his lips. “Whatever happened in France, the tension is showing on your face. I want to make this transition as easy as possible for you.”
His astute observations weren’t helping. “That’s the stress of travel,” she said. “You know how I am. You’ve done enough by giving me the job.”
That unrepentant grin returned with a vengeance. “The job is one more excellent reason to stay in the boathouse,” he said, using a drastically understated term for the coveted property.
“Not a good plan. I’d charge you overtime if you knocked on my bedroom door in the middle of the night with a scheduling conflict.” Joking with him was her only way through this ridiculous quagmire.
“I can afford it,” he a
ssured her with a cocky grin.
“You say that now.” She hadn’t been fooled by his vague references to Trisha. As a way to prepare for the interview, she’d checked out recent social headlines about Rush. His current secretary-girlfriend would be furious that he’d extended the boathouse offer. She didn’t want to wreak havoc in his personal life, too. Once she had what Kathrein needed, she would be gone. She couldn’t let Rush burn through any bridges while she was here. “Does Trisha use one of your personal vehicles?”
“She doesn’t drive,” he replied with a one-shoulder shrug.
Leave it to Rush to miss the bigger point. He was insulting all three of them, and oblivious or not, she couldn’t let him get away with it. “The hotel suite is the better choice for me right now.”
“Too bad. It’s booked. I just remembered.”
She gave him a long look. “Really?”
He nodded and the lie was patently transparent in his eyes and his grin.
She had no business being amused by the man. She needed to treat him as her boss. “As your personal assistant, I can verify that easily enough, and I’ll add it’s no problem for me to stay where I am.”
“Starting tomorrow you can verify whatever you want. Right now, as a friend, you’ll have to take my word on it.” He leaned back on the bench stretching his arms wide, much as he had in his office, providing an outstanding impersonation of a king regarding his domain.
She didn’t mind. Humble wasn’t his best look. Confidence should go hand in hand with being one of the wealthiest men in the world. The start-ups he’d sold in his twenties had netted him billions, and thanks to the dynamic software powering Gray Box, his net worth increased exponentially year after year. “You didn’t pull out the timing argument when we were talking business on the drive over here.”
“I was being polite,” he said. “Honoring your topic of choice and bringing you up to speed simultaneously.”
“I’m not staying at the house on Marina.” He needed to accept her choice though she knew he didn’t approve of it. “Thanks for the offer.”
“Consider it an order instead of an offer,” he pressed, lowering his voice.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” If so, he needed a few lessons from Kathrein.
He arched an eyebrow. “Any hotel is way too public if that scheduling conflict occurs to me in the middle of the night. Think of the rumors when I storm the castle. The company stock could plummet.”
She rolled her eyes, grateful once more for the sunglasses. “You won’t storm anything. I’m not moving in with you. That’s demanding too much from a PA.” Too late she realized how that sounded. They’d had a similar argument when they’d been dating. He’d wanted her to move in and she’d insisted on maintaining her own apartment, despite the amount of time she spent with him. If there was a way to make this awkward reunion worse, she’d found it.
His body had gone utterly still and the only movement was the breeze ruffling his thick black hair. She hadn’t noticed until now that he was overdue for a trim. He probably thought she was here to win him back as much as to secure a high-paying job.
“I don’t live there anymore,” he said, his voice tight. “I bought a condo down on Fremont Street.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t bring herself to ask when he’d moved out or if it was because of her. Those questions put too much emphasis on her, when Rush’s choices and actions should be all about what was best for him and his business. It made her inexplicably sad.
“Closer to the office.” He stood up suddenly, shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Why don’t we get you moved in right now?”
“Stop it. I’m not moving into one of your personal properties.” A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. “As the proud owner of one suitcase, I think I can manage it when you relent and give me the corporate suite.”
“One suitcase?” He frowned at her. “You moved back home with one suitcase?”
Her pulse skittered over that unwise slip. She scrambled for excuses. “You know I travel light,” she reminded him. “And...and everything else is in storage,” she fibbed. “Besides, I wasn’t sure you’d give me the job.”
He pushed his sunglasses up to his hair and his eyes were hard. “Have you forgotten everything about me? Everything about us?”
Unfortunately it seemed as if the specific details of their relationship, both good and bad, would haunt her forever. Although she’d made sure he heard that she met someone else in Chicago, the rumor hadn’t been true. The first white lie in what was turning into a lengthy list. Shame rolled through her and she averted her gaze to the magnificent rotunda and the curve of the colonnades behind him.
“Is there someone else?” Rush demanded. “Someone who would be upset or jealous if you accepted my hospitality?”
Resigned, she gave him as much honesty as possible. “Only Trisha,” she replied.
“Let me worry about her.”
“All right.” She certainly didn’t want to worry about the woman. “I don’t want to cause any more friction than necessary taking this job.” She wanted to gain access, recover the documents and hopefully get away before Rush realized what happened.
“And I’m telling you she won’t be a problem.”
“Okay.” Lucy still couldn’t look at him.
“Come on,” he said abruptly. “Let’s get your one suitcase moved into the boathouse.” He held up a hand when she started to protest again. “Call it a new perk. The boathouse and job go together as of right now.”
“You’re being absurd. I’d rather you treated me like a normal employee.”
“That’s impossible and you know it,” he argued. “When you talk your sister into visiting for the holidays, you’ll appreciate my decision. Allow me to be considerate.”
“Dictatorial is more accurate.” She rubbed a hand over her heart, easing the ache at the mention of her family. Counting today, she had six more days to be sure Gwen and Jackson lived to see Christmas.
“Not even close.” His lips—lips she’d loved kissing—flattened. “You can always turn the job down.”
Oh, how she wished that was true, that her return to San Francisco was a simple case of homesickness. Being on the inside was her only real chance of breaking the Gray Box security within Kathrein’s time frame. “Fine. If you say the boathouse goes with the job, so be it.”
His mouth curled into a smug, satisfied smile. “Would you rather have a car or a driver at your disposal?”
“Neither.” She laughed at the idea of having her own driver.
“It’s my terms or no terms, Lucy.”
Her heart skipped again at the familiar sound of her name on his lips. “You realize HR thinks all the terms are settled,” she said.
“They answer to me.” That dark eyebrow arched again, daring her to push him. Rush would happily flex his influence and get his way. He didn’t hear the word no often enough and he wouldn’t hear it from her, either. Not this time.
“I’ll accept the generosity of the boathouse and the most efficient car available, on the condition that you’ll allow me to move as soon as I’m reestablished here.”
He nodded and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
“Thank you.”
With another quick text, Rush had the car and driver waiting for them when they reached the south side of the park.
“I think you’re more stubborn than ever.” She sank into the supple leather upholstery of the backseat.
“Not a chance.” He laughed. “I haven’t changed a bit. It’s a matter of working only with the best, from people to equipment. Having you on board will be a huge asset for the company.”
The company, right. The reminder that he was set in his habits settled her more than anything else he might have said. When they’d met, his expensive tastes were obvious early on, but it had been his common sense, creative problem solving and grounded nature that won her over. “Do you ever drive yourself anymore?”
“Su
re. This is better for working.” As if on cue, his phone rang. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”
She caught sight of a sly blonde on the screen and recognized the picture of Trisha, his current “calendar manager.” Sitting beside him, Lucy couldn’t avoid overhearing Rush’s side of the conversation. Trisha didn’t sound too happy with the way her day was going.
Rush’s answers became increasingly clipped, his tone terse as the conversation continued. Having seen him in action, Lucy knew Trisha’s protests about being moved to a different department were only working against her. Rush didn’t tolerate simpering, clingy women and having to repeat himself was a particular pet peeve. The woman’s time with Rush would be cut short if she didn’t respect the hard limits he put on his personal life.
Mentally, Lucy aimed a string of curses at Kathrein. How many lives would be irreparably altered by his demands? She was tempted to interrupt and explain everything to Rush—until the pictures from the reporter’s accident flashed through her mind. Veering from Kathrein’s instructions would put Gwen and Jackson in more danger.
She slid a glance at Rush from behind her sunglasses and told herself he’d find a way to mitigate the problems she was about to create.
He ended the call, though Trisha’s voice rattled on. “My apologies,” he said.
Her stomach cramped with anxiety. She’d never enjoyed causing someone trouble. “If hiring me interferes with—”
He cut her off with a sharp look as the driver pulled to a stop in front of her hotel. “She’ll get over it.” He shrugged. “Or not. Right now, I don’t care.”
She worked to keep her mouth closed, to smother the truth of her purpose as she got out of the car and withdrew her keycard.
“I’ll wait for you here,” he said as they entered the lobby.
She was grateful for the reprieve. The past few hours proved she wasn’t even close to being over Rush. All the little things she’d loved about him were still there, tempting her to give in to his invitation to revive their relationship. She couldn’t let herself fall back down that rabbit hole, not when her return was based on a lie. On top of that, he was with someone else and she refused to be the other woman.
