by Kacey Shea
“Oh, shit.” Jon curses under his breath and I practically jump, I’m so lost in my thoughts. “Evie, you need to take a look at this.” His gaze stays trained on his computer screen.
“What?” I stand from my desk and stretch my arms overhead, stifling a yawn. The day has gone by in a blur of worry and busy work. I’m shocked when I glance at the time and find it’s half past four already.
He leans back in his leather office chair and I walk around the desk to quickly scan the email he has pulled up. A new prospective client. Late-twenties. Female. Looking for us to run a complete background on a man she’s been paired up with by her good friend for a blind date. Won’t be much of a blind date after Jon and I compile an investigative report on the guy.
I move to grab our schedule. “’Kay, that sounds doable. We can work her in on Thursday.” Jon halts my steps by wheeling his chair in my path. “What?”
“Look at the signature line.” He lifts his brows and blinks exaggeratedly. I turn back to the screen and peer closer. Amelia Moreau. What the—?
“That’s the woman Drew’s having an affair with!” I shout and tap at the name.
“The woman we suspect he’s having an affair with. Yes, I think so. The name isn’t that common.”
“This is perfect! What a better way to investigate her than to work for her!” All today’s turmoil has been worth it when the universe offers this kind of lead in exchange. I reach for my phone but Jon slides it out of reach to retrieve my full attention.
“Evie, we can’t do that. It’s not ethical. Besides, it seems too strange that this is a coincidence, given the timing.”
“No. No pulling that holier than thou shit with your code of ethics. We aren’t cops or lawyers, and this is my sister we are talking about. The one who snuck us our first beers. Don’t tell me you won’t do everything in your power to help her.”
“I get that it’s personal, but you can’t just do whatever you want with no regard to our business just because your sister suspects another woman. We’ve worked hard to build a reputation and I won’t throw that away.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Not even for Melissa.”
“I don’t agree. When it comes to family, we do whatever it takes.”
“Really? Because she’s blood, you’ll put your career on the line? Mine as well?”
“God! You’re being so dramatic. I’m not saying put our careers on the line. Besides, this Amelia person won’t ever find out. And if she does we’ll play stupid like we didn’t know.”
“I don’t know . . .” He massages his temple with his thumb and forefinger. I’m breaking him. He’s wavering. I need Jon on board for this. This is the perfect opportunity to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on. She’ll never know. Neither will Drew. And it’ll be so much quicker.
“Let’s ask Kate and get her vote,” I suggest.
“No!” His eyes widen.
“Why not?” I play innocent, but we both know which side she’ll take.
“You’ve been best friends more than half your life. You know exactly why. She’ll never be able to keep that kind of news to herself. She’ll probably insist on tagging along to meet Amelia.”
“What’s wrong with that? Kate’s helped us before. She’s a great judge of character.”
“We can’t trust her.” His stare is so serious I have to laugh.
“You don’t trust your girlfriend? The mother of your unborn child? What’s going on with you?”
“Me? I’m fine. It’s her. It’s the hormones. I know everyone says its bad, that pregnant women are emotional, but I had no idea.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah, I’ve watched Melissa go through this before, but Kate really brings a whole new meaning to the experience.”
“Fuck. You don’t know the half of it.” He leans back in his chair.
I lean against the door jam and nod. “Tell me.”
“She’s out of control.” He pauses, meets my gaze and holds it with his hard stare. “I feel like a little bitch even admitting to this, but . . .” He takes his baseball hat off and rubs his fingers down his face before adjusting it back in place.
“Spit it out. What?”
“She wants to fuck. Like all the time. All. The. Time.”
“And that’s a problem how? Isn’t that what you two have been doing since you got together?” I can’t keep the humor from my voice, or resist the little laugh that escapes my lips. He drops his chin and exhales audibly. I bite my lip so I won’t laugh at him, but really? When has a guy ever complained about this?
“She wants it rough and hard,” he mutters.
I can’t believe this is a real issue. I shake my head and roll my eyes. “So, give it to her rough and hard.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “But what about the baby? It’s not safe. I’m not putting my child in danger to get my woman off!”
“Oh, my God!” I’m in a fit of giggles now and Jon’s face is stained red with the blush that’s worked its way up his neck. “You can’t hurt the baby by having sex.”
“I know that. But the way she wants me, I’m afraid I will.”
I wipe away the tears and try to get myself under control, but this is the best thing I’ve heard all day. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. This is a real problem.”
“I’m glad you’re taking my fears seriously,” he grinds out.
“Kate’s in her last trimester. This is normal.”
“Normal? She’s been like this for months. She’s more demanding each week.”
“Yeah, I remember Melissa telling me about this when she was pregnant with Claire. Once she stopped feeling sick, she was horny all the time.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. She also used to have these crazy erotic dreams. Once she woke up after a dream of banging Ed Sheeran and swore it was the best sex of her life. Drew took up guitar lessons that next week. Melissa cut him off at the hair dye though. He said he wanted to fulfill her every fantasy. He was even willing to go ginger for her.”
“Going ginger. That’s love.” Humor pulls at the hard line of Jon’s lips, but sorrow sours my amusement.
“Jon, what went wrong? Drew and Melissa are the perfect couple. I’ve always thought that. But if things can go south for them after all these years, well, it makes me question, you know, what if . . .” I pause. I can’t say aloud the thoughts swirling in my head.
“Tell me what’s up, QT. Share for share. What you say can’t be any more embarrassing than what I admitted.”
I nod and avert my eyes. I can tell Jon anything. After everything we’ve been through, he’s still one of my best friends. “What if marrying Tate is a mistake?” Oh, God. I squeeze my eyes shut at my own admission. I can hardly believe these thoughts picking at my sanity, let alone say them out loud.
“Evie.” Jon’s stern voice commands my attention and I meet his gaze. I don’t see the censure I expect, though. His eyes are kind and full of understanding. “You can’t let someone else’s mistakes get in the way of your own happiness.”
“I know. You’re right.” And I do know that, but . . . “I just . . . This thing with my sister is making me question whether I’m rushing into this wedding.”
Jon chuckles and spins in his chair. “Well, you kind of are.”
“What?” I snap and stop his chair from completing another rotation.
His lips pull up at the edges, but he contains his laughter. “You and Tate. You’ve been in a rush since you got together, but it’s obvious as to why. Evie, don’t you love him?”
“With everything I am.” I blow out a breath, along with my self-doubts.
“And you know he loves you.”
“Without question.”
“Is he worth the risk? The chance that maybe someday you will hit a speed bump you can’t handle. Or will you hide in fear over a what if?”
“I can handle anything with Tate on my team.” That I’m sure of as much as my next breath.
“There you go. Do
n’t let this stuff with Drew and Melissa fuck with your head. Tate and you are meant to be. And we don’t know shit about this other woman yet. This affair could all be in Mel’s head.”
“You’re right. Thanks, friend. Now, I’m gonna scoot before Kate gets home so you two can get some sexy time in tonight.” I stand and sling my bag across my shoulder, and walk to the door.
“I see how it is! Abandon your fellow soldier!”
“I thought you were trained to be brave.” I dangle my keys and throw one last grin over my shoulder before I step outside.
“No man left behind!” he shouts at my back before I can shut the door.
It’s a perfect sunny day. Warm with a few clouds hanging in the sky and several hours before the sun sets. The short walk to my car leaves me feeling a little restless. I don’t want to go home to an empty house. Not when it’ll be hours until Tate gets home. Pulling out my cell, I consider calling Melissa to update her with our stroke of good luck, but I know that’s not a smart idea.
Amelia Moreau. That’s who I need to see. The thought of waiting until Thursday to meet with her frustrates the hell out of me, and I’m not even sure I can get Jon on board. I ponder the idea of recruiting Kate, but that could also backfire. No, I don’t need anyone’s approval. I need to uncover who Amelia is, for Melissa. I owe it to my sister and I’m not waiting around until the end of the week.
I need to expose the truth.
Swiping across the screen, I unlock my cell and log in to our shared work email. The automated form that includes Amelia’s request for services lists both her email and cell phone contacts. My fingers hover over that number because I’m certain if I do this Jon’s gonna be angry. Spotting Kate’s car pulling into the parking lot, I pop mine into reverse and wave to my friend as I drive on by.
Fuck protocol.
The line rings four times before a woman answers.
“Hello.”
“Hello, may I please speak with Miss Moreau?”
“This is she.” Her voice is thick with a European accent I can’t quite place.
“Amelia this is Evelyn Harper from Harper and Beltran. I received your inquiry early today.”
“Oh, yes. Hold on.” There’s a momentary pause before she comes back on the line, her voice clear but lit with her accent. “Sorry, I’m here. I read on your website that you book weeks in advance, so I wasn’t sure if you could work me into your schedule.”
“That’s why I called, actually. We like to do an intake meeting before any contracts are signed. Make sure we’re a good fit for each other. I had a last minute opening this evening. Does that work for you?”
“Oh. Wow. Um. Yeah. What time and where? I’m working, but I can take a break between six and seven.”
If I weren’t driving, I’d dance for joy. Take that, Mr. Follow the Rules.
I’ll come to you, is what I almost say, but catch myself before the slipup. Instead, I recall a coffee bar located near her place. I don’t want to give her any reason to postpone this opportunity. Jon will be pissed when he finds out, but it’ll be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. “How about Grand Central Coffee at six-fifteen? It’ll only take a half an hour.”
“Thank you. Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you soon.”
Yes, you will. “You’re welcome. ’Bye.” Turning my car toward downtown, I allow a smile to fill my face as I fight the rush hour traffic. I’m about to find out who Amelia is. Put all of this trouble behind my family so I can marry my soulmate. Everything is going to be just fine.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Evelyn
“Evelyn Harper?” Her eyes are wide, a bright blue, and soft waves of long blonde hair frame her face. She’s beautiful. Young. My heart squeezes a little knowing she’s the woman my brother-in-law chooses over Melissa. Determination to find proof lights within my forced smile as I stand from my chair.
“Amelia Moreau?” She nods. “Thank you for meeting me.” I extend my hand and she presses her palm to mine.
“No. Thank you. I’m glad this worked out.” She smooths the front of her blouse, and her eyes dart around the busy coffee bar.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, I’m fine.”
I point to the chair next to mine and we both take a seat. Nerves rattle my mind, and my hands shake so noticeably I clasp them together in my lap. I don’t meet with clients on my own. It’s mostly a safety issue, and for a moment I question whether I’m doing the right thing. I shake it off with an exhale and what I hope is a warm smile. “Your inquiry said you had a potential date you wanted us to investigate?”
“Yes. I’m . . .” She glances around again and drops her gaze when answering. “This is embarrassing to say, but since coming to America I’ve had some not so good dating experiences.”
I lean forward to encourage her to continue. She lifts her gaze to meet mine and her eyes hold a depth of sincerity that’s startling. I have to work to keep my expression level when she speaks.
“It’s just that I am from a small town. Everyone knows everyone else. My father and uncles know everyone’s family, so I knew all the men I dated there. But here, in the city . . .” Her attention drops to the glass table top and she seems to study the industrial gears that make up the design visible from beneath it.
I nod to encourage her to continue. “Yes?”
“The last man I dated was married,” she blurts. Her eyes are wide as she covers her mouth, almost as if she’d like to take back the words. “I didn’t know. I would never have started something with him, but it’s enough that I don’t want to repeat it.”
Anger coils inside at her admission. She must be referring to Drew. “Neither do I,” I retort and Amelia’s head tilts with her stare. Crap. That came out harsher than I meant. I stumble to cover my blunder. “In my line of work, we unfortunately see so much of that. Families torn apart by cheating. People pretending they’re someone other than who or what they are.”
Her spine straightens and she nods once. I’m not quite sure how to read her, so I lean back and take a sip from my lukewarm coffee.
“Your accent is beautiful, Amelia. Where exactly are you from?”
“France. I’m here on a student visa.”
I nod and try to smile again. “That’s exciting. Are you studying anything in particular?”
“Yes. I’m here for my doctorate in computer science.”
“That’s impressive. What did you say you did for work again?”
“I didn’t.” She gathers her purse and digs around for her keys. “Do you have any questions about the man I’d like you to look into?” She raises her brow and holds my stare.
I could kick myself. My over eagerness is coming through. The last thing I need is for her to be on guard. “Yes. I’ll need everything you know about him. You can email that to us. Name, age, contact information, social media profiles. Anything you have, and we’ll take it from there. We will vet him for you, but also, we want to know what are you looking for exactly. That he’s not married or in a relationship is the primary concern, but we can also look into how susceptible he is to cheating, or even if he’d be open to paying for companionship . . . If those are also concerns of yours.”
“I think it would be easier if I don’t date at all!” She laughs on a harsh, tense breath, and for a glimmer of a second I see apprehension in her gaze.
I almost feel sorry for her, but then I remember she’s the reason for my sister’s unhappiness. “Our services don’t come cheap, but we guarantee results. I can send you over a contract and if everything looks agreeable, we’ll get started upon payment.”
“Can I think about it? I really am not sure I am cut out for American dating.” Her lips mash together and her left leg bounces from where it crosses over her right.
“Of course. There’s no commitment until you send the first payment.” Her body language screams that she’s ready to escape, but before she does I have to ask. “Just c
urious, how did you hear about us?”
Her eyes flick to her purse and she pulls out her cell phone, tapping across the screen before she meets my gaze again. “Oh, it was a colleague from the university. I’m sorry, I must go now. I have to get back to work.”
“Sure. Of course.” I stand when she does and offer my hand to shake hers again. “It was nice to meet you, Amelia. We’ll be in touch.”
She nods, offers a quick good-bye, and leaves me to ponder what the hell that just was. I’m a good judge of character, and while she seemed more than honest and authentic with some answers, there were times I could tell she didn’t want me to pry. The smart thing would be to come clean and admit to Jon what I did, recap tonight’s conversation, and accept the verbal thrashing he’s sure to deliver. Or . . .
An idea strikes.
Yeah, I’ve already gone down a path I can’t erase. What the hell. Might as well go all out. I spring out of my seat, dig my keys from my bag, and cross the coffee shop in time to spot Amelia sliding into the driver’s seat of a silver Corolla. As casually as I can, I rush to my own car so I can tail her and discover exactly what she’s hiding.
SNEAKING into the gated courtyard of Amelia’s condo complex proves no challenge. One flash of my smile and a college kid holds it open for me to pass first. I watched Amelia from my car and waited exactly five minutes before following. Plenty of time for her to climb one flight of stairs and go inside. At least, I hope she didn’t get held up. I’m extra careful, walking the lower perimeter of housing with my head down just in case.
Circling the community pool, empty on this April evening, I find a shrub I can hole up behind to shield my body from her second story view. The only problem. I’ll appear quite conspicuous crouched down at the edge of someone’s patio. The smart idea would be to leave now, but my compulsion to have this entire ordeal—along with the suspicion that Amelia’s hiding something—behind me causes me to throw caution to the wind.
