by Debra Webb
“No. I always admired your focus.” She barreled on before he could enjoy the compliment. “I didn’t want to upend your life. You certainly don’t owe me any heroic measures. Maybe we should use your publicity idea a little differently.”
He braced his elbows on the table, eager to hear this. “I’m all ears.”
“I’ll take the information to Kathrein and trade it for Gwen and Jackson. He won’t kill me if my name and face are in the spotlight, linked with yours.”
“Are you forgetting he made the world believe Garmeaux died in an accident, Lucy?”
“Not at all.” She grimaced. “You’re different. Influential.”
“It won’t be enough,” he stated. “I’m not going to let you martyr yourself.”
“That isn’t my intention.” She pulled a knee to her chest and wrapped her arms around it. “So what’s your next step after we play out the scene at the coffee shop?”
“We make some social noise, you send him an email that you’re almost in, and then I’ll make an announcement that you’re a new key player at the Gray Box offices. Then, while the media is chewing on that, I’ll apply all my effort, contacts and resources to locating your family.”
“You can find them?”
“Yes,” he said. With his friends it was absolutely possible. “It’s the best plan,” he pressed.
“It’s an option with huge potential to backfire.” Her gaze narrowed as she calculated the risks. “I’m running out of time.”
Rush inhaled slowly. “Other than you, when have I failed at anything?”
Her lips parted on a surprised gasp and a jolt of desire shot through his system. If she remembered the effect she had on him, she’d learned to hide it well in the past year. Other than the hug, she hadn’t even tried to touch him today. He cursed himself for stopping last night. The physical release could have benefitted them both and he might be able to focus on something other than his persistent state of arousal.
Her gaze lowered to his lips, then slid away to the view outside. She stood and paced to the window, leaning her forehead against the glass. The muted light painted her body and he had to resist the temptation to wrap her up in his arms.
“Have you worked up a program to find them?” she asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” he replied. “If we’re in agreement, I’ll make a call and set things in motion.”
She didn’t move. “Who do you want to call?”
“I’ve made several interesting friends through Gray Box clients and contracts. Do you trust me, Lucy?”
“Yes.”
Her immediate reply gave his ego a boost. Pushing back his chair, he gathered up the dishes and carried them to the kitchen sink. “I’ll let you know more details on the way to the office.”
“Okay.” She turned, her arms wrapped around her midsection. “About last night...” Her voice trailed off, though her gaze remained steady.
“Can we table that discussion for now?” Please, he added silently. “Unless you think you’ll have trouble being friendly and affectionate at the coffee shop.”
Her smile was shy. “I won’t have any trouble with that.”
As she went upstairs to shower and dress, he hoped she meant it. However she’d come back into his life, he looked forward to reclaiming the closeness they’d once shared.
While he waited, Rush made several calls. Doubts pestered him as he turned over the various scenarios and outcomes and what they needed to do to rescue her family. He was the worst kind of hypocrite for being jealous and doubting her while resenting her for assuming the worst of his contract with Trisha. He’d told her the personal stuff had to wait, yet when she came back downstairs, he returned to the issue, inexplicably worried there was more she was hiding. “No one in your life will be upset seeing you with me?”
“Answer is still no.” Her lips twisted to the side. “Gwen, should she catch the news, will be thrilled. She always liked you.”
He tried not to let the compliment go to his head. Call him a jerk for making her repeat it, but he felt better having a definitive answer. Lucy’s only secret had been her kidnapped family. She never would have kissed him if she was involved with someone else. After all, she’d left Chicago to work in France.
“May I have my phone back?” she asked, slipping into black heels. She looped her computer bag over her shoulder and picked up her purse. “Rush?”
The woman mesmerized him and he couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop thinking of all the places on her body that he wanted to touch and kiss. She’d also chosen jeans today, but she turned casual to elegant with a snug white shirt topped with a colorful, long, open sweater. Silver drops at her ears were echoed in the silver necklace sparkling against the white fabric. And then there were those sexy black heels.
“Your phone.” He held it out. “I may need to play with it later, depending on how the next few hours go.”
They left the roadster in the garage and let the service do the driving. When the driver pulled to the curb at the coffee shop, Rush noticed his calls had been effective. The people from the right papers and blogs were there to see Lucy get out of the car with him. She played it perfectly, immediately reaching for his hand, leaning into his touch and smiling up at him.
He thought his face might crack under the pressure of holding back when he wanted so desperately to make the role they were playing real. She didn’t know the shock and despair she’d created when she left him. No one did. Although he’d buried the surprising sense of loss and grief in work and made the expected social moves to keep up his image, he’d never given up on winning back Lucy. Psychologists and gossip rags would have a field day with that admission, he thought as he gazed into her warm brown eyes.
On the executive floor, Melva greeted them with such obvious delight he felt guilty. His office manager had always loved Lucy’s effect on him, claiming she gave his life balance and stability. Of course, Melva often chided him for working harder than ten men just for the bragging rights.
He purposely left the privacy glass off as they drafted a press release about Lucy joining the Gray Box team. After another protest about the effect this would have on him and the company when she left, she agreed to let him send it.
“It won’t be a problem,” Rush assured her again, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hell, with your reputation the stock is likely to go up.” Here at the office he wanted to keep the affectionate displays to a minimum, if only so he didn’t set himself up for her rejection. He was starting to think last night’s kisses were the sum of stress, exhaustion and inhibitions reduced by darkness. “Now, let’s get to the real problem. He gave you a week?”
“Yes. If I don’t hand over the information by Monday, he’ll kill them,” she said, her voice tight. “Did you see the spy at the coffee shop?”
Rush nodded. “He tailed us from the boathouse. Kathrein will probably be in touch any minute.”
Setting her phone on his desk as if it might explode, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I can’t stand this. My imagination is going crazy with how they’re suffering.”
Now he did turn on the privacy glass. “Sit or pace, but start talking. Tell me everything you know about Kathrein.”
“I did that last night.”
“I don’t mean about the kidnapping or the reasons behind it. I want to know about the man. You were his personal assistant.” He knew how quickly Lucy picked up facts and concepts. Her brain fascinated him as much as her beauty.
“Only for a month.” She laced her fingers and rocked her hands back and forth while he stared her down. “Okay, okay.” She sucked in a breath. “I know what you’re getting at.”
At his desk, he listened, making notes about Kathrein’s living habits, ethics, the briberies she suspected, his staff and his most recent connections. Rush did this all while his mind and body indulged in a deep appreciation of her inherent grace as she paced the length of the windows.
When the company had move
d into this building, he’d drafted dozens of emails with pictures, as excited as a kid at Christmas to share the success with her. He hadn’t sent any of them and eventually had cleared them off his computer. An email reply, if she’d bothered to send one, wouldn’t have satisfied him. He’d wanted her here, in person, so he could enjoy the thrill of her smile as she took in the expansive, inspiring views. He’d wanted to press her back against the glass and feel her legs lock around his hips as he drove himself into the tight heat of her body.
Before they’d made the leap from friends to lovers, he’d once overheard her protesting to a girlfriend that she wasn’t his type. In an instant he was back at that moment, realizing how much better Lucy was than the glossy, empty women he typically dated to keep up appearances. He nearly laughed. It seemed Melva had a valid point.
Unique and beautiful, Lucy had enchanted him from the first question she’d asked during his guest lecture for her graduate program. He’d wanted to hire her on the spot but waited until they had more privacy over coffee after the class. She’d blown off him and his outrageous offer with her merry laughter.
That might have been the moment his obsession started, though he’d hidden his immediate needs. He eventually won her over with several casual dates, even working dinners, followed by extravagant surprises until finally landing in a bed during a weekend cruise on his yacht. There they’d discovered another mutual interest in creative, bold sexual play and passion.
God, she’d been a wonder, his ideal companion in every sense.
“Are you listening?” She’d stopped pacing and perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of his desk, studying him with a narrowed gaze.
“Just thinking,” he replied, quickly typing up the last thing he’d heard her say. “I’m going to forward this file to one of my contacts.”
“I’m still not sure it’s worth the risk.”
He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to lighten her mood. “I know a few things about encrypting files.”
“It’s not that. If Kathrein could hack your system he wouldn’t have sent me.” She let out a frustrated oath. “He has a spy out there, proving he has a long reach and plenty of contacts, too. If you’re suddenly taking meetings with tactical security experts, he’ll assume I’ve told you what’s going on. He’s old, not stupid.”
“I believe you. Now that my team isn’t following you, looks like we’ve got an ID on the spy tailing you,” Rush said as he skimmed an incoming email. He immediately returned his attention to the task of framing his more urgent request for help to locate and rescue Lucy’s family. “We have several clients, from government agencies to private companies, who deal in security and tactical operations. Leaping to conclusions could wreck Kathrein’s plan and though he might get suspicious, he’ll have to bide his time. The man I’ve asked to help us could easily be explained as a client disconnected from our real problem. But don’t worry, he won’t come anywhere near us or the building.” Yet.
“Back up a second.”
Hearing temper simmering in her voice, he glanced up. “Yes?”
“Your team identified Kathrein’s spy?”
“Just now, yes.” He watched, wary as her cheeks and ears turned red. She rarely blushed unless she was angry. With a few strokes of the keyboard, he put the man’s picture on a monitor mounted on the wall and added candid shots they’d collected over the past twenty-four hours. “Do you recognize him?”
She shook her head, her lips clamped shut.
“What makes this a problem?” he asked.
“You said you had me followed,” she replied, her eyes hot.
“Would you believe it’s standard procedure for new hires?”
“I would not.” Lacing her fingers in her lap, her silence demanded his explanation.
“Well, it is. In certain cases.” He came around the desk, ready to apply liberal amounts of charm to smooth over his careless handling of this detail. “I dug a little deeper. Kathrein has invested in two cyber security developers during the past six months,” he said leaning against the desk. “Based on our current dilemma, now I understand why. Knowing you came to me directly from his employ, I had you followed. It wasn’t personal,” he fibbed. “Anyone coming from a similar situation would have been followed.”
Her tension ebbed from her hands and mouth, but he could see she wasn’t entirely convinced.
No matter how angry or offended she was, he would be grateful for the decision. His caution had resulted in an inadvertent and additional measure of protection for her that made the ensuing steps easier.
* * *
“YOU’VE CHANGED.” LUCY held his gaze, her outrage over his invasion of her privacy fizzling. She should have expected it and, yes, in his place she would have done the same thing.
“Changed?” He stared at her and the blue depths of his gaze tempted her just as it always had. “No. Not on the things that matter most,” he replied after a thoughtful pause. “You don’t seem quite as angry.”
“I have bigger problems.” The way he’d been using “us” and “we” and “our” made her heart melt, but at the end of the day this problem was between her and Kathrein. If she could spare Rush the grief and trouble, she would. “What can I do about the man following me?”
He shifted, obviously thinking it over. Folding his arms over his chest, he stretched out his long legs and crossed his ankles. Did he have to be so irresistibly sexy all the time? She hadn’t been with anyone since Rush, and right now she regretted every missed opportunity. She’d dated in Chicago, mostly to appease her sister, but the enigmatic chemistry she shared with Rush had been missing. Wouldn’t he crow with satisfaction if he knew?
It was too late for them. Rush wasn’t the sort to forgive the way she’d left and he had no interest in addressing the needs of her heart. Only my body, she thought as another little spark of anticipation zipped through her.
From head to toe, her body was certain sex with Rush would be enough. Her greedy hormones urged her to reach out and take what she wanted from the man. Surely last night’s sizzling kisses and embraces verified he’d be open to one last fling for the sake of closure. Her mouth went dry and her palms damp as her body warmed to the idea. Maybe, she thought, just maybe she would proposition Rush once Gwen and Jackson were safe. For closure.
He still hadn’t answered her and she couldn’t hide in his office forever. “Come on, Rush. What do you propose?” His eyes went wide and she immediately regretted her choice of words. Love, marriage and romance were foul words in his vocabulary. “Do we use the spy or ignore him?” she asked quickly. “Or should I call Kathrein right now to make the trade?”
“None of the above.” Rush returned to his side of the desk. “I want you to go through the motions here at the office while I do some more research on this. We need to make it look like you’re scrambling to meet the demands.”
“Why doesn’t he call?” She glared at her phone again. The constantly evolving knots in her stomach were making it difficult to breathe.
“We’ll get through this,” Rush said. “I’m fast and creative. We’re only making it look like you’re still working alone. I’m going to let Sam leak news about an attempted hack. That should convince Kathrein you’re trying.”
“All right.” She stood up, determined to exemplify the courage and trust he was requesting. “You won’t forget the deadline?”
“Not a chance.”
“And you won’t take any action without telling me before you do it?”
“Want it in writing?”
She held up her hands in surrender. “No, thank you.” He’d gone above and beyond when he could’ve reported her to the police. Rather than wrestling this out of her control and dropping her behind an army of guards while he solved her problem, he was keeping her close, keeping her involved. “I wish he’d confirm something about Gwen.”
“Jackson looks content in every picture,” Rush reminded her. “Can you believe he’d be that happy with
only the care of Kathrein or his guards?”
When he put it in that context, a fraction of the tension lifted from her shoulders. “You’re right.”
“Almost always,” he said with a cocky grin, until his eyes landed on his monitor and his thinking scowl returned. “I’ll give you an hour at your desk, then we’re taking a tour of the R & D floor.”
“Yes, boss.” She wondered what kind of software he had in Research and Development that could save her family. Her distraction didn’t last long. While she was updating Rush’s calendar and commitments, she received an email from the charitable foundation managed by Kathrein’s daughters.
Reading it, Lucy swore under her breath. The innocuous message was an invitation to a holiday fund-raiser on Tuesday, the day after her deadline. It had been addressed to the Gray Box email address HR had assigned to her yesterday.
Between the sexy, audacious man in the glass-walled office behind her and the nasty bastard playing grandpa with her nephew, she decided there were too many clever and resourceful billionaires in her life. When she fell in love again—assuming she could forget Rush long enough to give another man a chance—she would make sure to fall for a thoughtful, unassuming man with a net worth closer to the half-million mark.
Her light duties as an assistant left her mind free to wander down that diverting path. She and this currently featureless man of average means would get married and say “I love you” every day and leave the city for a typical suburban neighborhood in an excellent school district. They’d invest in a cozy house with a wide porch overlooking a bright green lawn all wrapped up with a white picket fence. There would be children and coffee-klatch friends and even a dog that enjoyed morning jogs with the anonymous man of her dreams.
Melva walked up and burst the bubble, presenting her with a paper plate of something that might have started as cereal before it had been turned into a bright green Christmas wreath the size of a bear claw. “Help me eat this,” she said, breaking it in two.
