by Leslie North
He stepped closer, and Stephanie fought back the urge to kiss him right here in the conference room.
“If I stay, then what?”
“I’ll triple your vacation. Whatever it was. Time, place…I’ll do you three times better. All expenses paid.”
“Oooh,” said Stephanie. “Sounds dirty.”
Charlie laughed, his voice filling the conference room with a heady joy. “Don’t tempt me with those words.”
“Don’t tempt me with…” That body of yours, thought Stephanie. The way you’re so insistent on doing the right thing for everyone. “Your sense of responsibility.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows, dark eyes sparkling. “Come again?”
“When we first met, I was sure you were the least responsible man I’d ever seen.” Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself from grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him close.
Charlie matched the gesture. “What about now?”
“Now…I can see how hard you’re trying.” She bit her lip, her emotions swinging between guilt and a pure, aching want. “I don’t know if I can accept your money, or a vacation.”
He looked down into her eyes. “Why not?”
“I like to do things on my own.”
The air conditioning in the room kicked on, disturbing a lock of her hair. Charlie reached out and tucked it behind her ear. The brush of his fingertips against her skin was electric. She let her eyes flutter shut.
“You know,” said Charlie. “You’re a hard worker. You’ve done incredibly well by your son. I think you deserve a chance to follow your dreams. Vacations, anything…”
“I’d like to write,” blurted Stephanie, eyes flying open. “That’s one of my dreams. Not that it has much to do with taking a vacation.”
Charlie considered this with a low chuckle. “Is that where Jasper got his talent?”
She pressed her cheek into his hand, breathless. “He’s spent more time writing his stories than I ever have.”
“A vacation could be just what you need, then.”
“Charlie…”
“If you’re going to argue with me about it, just pretend you’ve said all the words and say something else instead. You’re going on a wonderful vacation. A long vacation. To anywhere you’ve dreamed of going, and I’m paying for it. So long as you stay.”
“I was going to say…” She couldn’t help herself for another moment. “No. I was going to do this.” She put her hands on his face, drew him in, and kissed him.
A flicker of worry bloomed in the back of her mind. It was risky, opening the door to another person. What if she came to rely on him too much?
But the heat of his kiss burned those thoughts away until nothing but a languid pleasure remained.
When it was over, Stephanie blinked hard. “Time to get back to work, I think.”
Charlie beamed down at her. “If you insist.”
7
“Where are you?”
Charlie’s brother’s voice rang through the speaker of his cell phone with a strange urgency, and his pulse quickened. He never knew what Archer was going to be calling about, and part of him jumped instantly to the worry that somehow his brothers had discovered something else about Baldwin that would sink the whole deal. It was the biggest acquisition he’d run point on, so the pressure was on. It was really on. He leaned back in his office chair. “I’m at work. Where are you?”
“Out back with Drew. We’re here with Allen.”
He was out of his seat at the word Allen. “I’ll be right there.”
His thoughts swam in a pointless circle on the way to the lot in the back of the building. Why hadn’t Allen just come in? Why hadn’t he sent a text? What was happening?
He burst through the back doors, the muscles in his hands tight and aching. His brothers stood in a clutch at the end of the sidewalk with Allen and a limo.
“I’m here,” he called, and the three of them turned to face him. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad—Drew wore a puzzled smile, Archer looked as relaxed as he always did, and even Allen’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “What’s up?”
Be cool, be cool. He approached the group and clapped a hand on Drew’s shoulder.
“Now that we’re all here, I wanted to apologize for leaving that meeting the way I did.” Allen rubbed his hands together. “Once I realized that our documentation wasn’t up to snuff, I had the idea for a different venue.”
“Tell me it’s the limo, Allen,” said Archer. “Are we taking a city cruise for this meeting?”
“Better than a city cruise. Here’s my proposal.” Allen grinned, and something in Charlie’s stomach twisted. “We get out of town for the weekend. Call it a business retreat. It’ll give us a chance to go over your concerns in a more relaxed atmosphere, and we can get to know each other. I’m committed to making this work, and I think this is the way to do it.”
“I’ll have to check with my wife,” Drew said.
“I’ve done the checking for you already, with the help of your assistants.” Allen opened the limousine’s trunk to reveal four neatly packed suitcases. “We’re ready to roll.” He slammed the trunk, and the chauffeur opened the limo’s door for them.
“Let’s do it.” Archer leapt in. “Nice ride, Allen.”
Allen climbed in after him and went toward the front.
Charlie shot Drew a look. “Shouldn’t we discuss this?”
“Look.” Drew held up his phone. He’d discreetly texted Penny. Her answer was on the screen.
Enjoy yourselves! :)
Penny had her own history with rocky company acquisitions. She’d be the one to pump the brakes on this if anyone was going to. And it looked like nobody was going to.
“You don’t have to come.” Drew pitched his voice so that only Charlie could hear. “We can handle it.”
“Are you kidding?” No way was Charlie letting this meeting happen out of his sight. The stakes were too high. Way too high. “This is my deal. I’m going.”
Drew gave a shrug. “A weekend away at a ski lodge could be nice.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
“Allen has talked about skiing a couple of times. I assume he’s taking us to one of his places—maybe Colorado.”
Charlie climbed into the limo. He wasn’t going to be the only one to miss this meeting because it happened to be held at a ski lodge. His throat tightened. He’d have to miss out on going to the aquarium with Jasper and Stephanie, though…she would have known that at some point, because she had to be in on this. She lived in his house. Stephanie was the natural choice to ask to pack his suitcase. And as Allen’s assistant, she’d probably made the arrangements.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He should text her, right? Charlie was going to be away from the house for the weekend. His housekeeper would be available, though, and maybe Stephanie was looking forward to a few days to relax with Jasper. A sweet tension sang through his mind when he thought of her, but none of the words that came to mind seemed right.
The driver accelerated, and Charlie put his phone away.
“I know the Prestons aren't strangers to private jets, but this time, it’s my treat.” Allen spread his arms out wide, indicating the jet that idled in the middle of the runway. They’d used the same airport entrance that the Prestons did when they flew private, only this time when they passed through the chain-link gates, a cold anxiety had risen into Charlie’s throat.
“Good man,” said Drew, and the four of them climbed the staircase and boarded.
Charlie knew instantly that it wasn’t Allen’s personal jet. The flight attendant who greeted them wore the navy uniform of the plane rental service they used when more than one family member needed to fly at the same time. He filed that piece of information away at the back of his mind. Allen talked a big game, and perhaps it meant nothing that he’d rented the jet for the weekend trip.
Perhaps not.
They listened to the safety pr
esentation, settled into their seats, and the plane took off.
“Spill it, Allen. What’s the surprise destination?” Archer sipped at a mimosa on the leather sofa at the side of the plane.
Allen laughed, leaning back in his own plush seat. “Any guesses?”
“Colorado,” Drew said, voice ringing with confidence. “You’re a golf man, and you’re a ski man. I’m sure you have a lodge up in the mountains.”
“So close, yet so far. Las Vegas.”
No. Charlie hadn’t been back to Vegas since the conference where he’d met Stephanie—since he’d fallen off the wagon. That conference was the reason he only had a five-year AA coin and not a ten-year coin. He cleared his throat.
“Where in Vegas?”
He could feel his brothers’ eyes on him.
“The Bellagio.”
Archer nodded like it wasn’t a big deal, like the information hadn’t changed anything. Like what happened at the conference was so far behind all of them that it didn’t even register.
It registered for Charlie. It registered like ice on the back of his neck, ice in his lungs, ice filling his gut.
The conference had been held at the Bellagio. It had all been so glittering and edgy and just this side of illicit that he’d fallen headfirst into a relapse. The ice in his stomach bumped out against his flesh with jagged edges. His palms slicked, and he rubbed them against the fabric of the jeans he’d worn to the office.
He couldn’t get off the plane.
The fact was, he couldn’t get off the plane. If he went back to the Bellagio, there was no telling what would happen. He wouldn’t drink—he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear having to tell Stephanie that he’d had another relapse. He hadn’t even been close to another relapse in years.
He wouldn’t drink.
But the fear of it crept in around the edges of his mind, anxiety wrapping itself in a tight band around his chest until he wanted to pound at the windows of the airplane. Anything to get a little more space.
Instead, he got up and went toward a leather loveseat in the back of the plane and pretended to be interested in the clouds zipping by underneath them. The conversation rolled on between Allen and his brothers, all the words skipping by like stones on the surface of deep water. Charlie felt like he was down below, at the very bottom. Every so often a word sank down into his consciousness—acquisition and retreat and casino—and he thought, I should get up, I should join in, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
The plane landed too soon for comfort, and his nerves rattled as they climbed down the stairs and got into another waiting limo.
“You all right?” Drew asked quietly. “You seemed out of it on the plane.”
“Headache,” Charlie said. “I’ll be fine.”
But the closer they got to the Bellagio, the less fine he was. Everything in his soul pulled in the direction of home, the tension tight and painful at the center of his chest. It was a mistake. The wrongness of it pounded at his temples. He hadn’t had a headache on the plane, but he’d conjured one out of thin air. The piercing pain dredged up memories—the feel of that heavy glass in his hand, the burn of the whiskey, one drink—and shoved them to the front of his mind where he couldn’t ignore them.
Stephanie, with her hair in a neat bun. Stephanie, with her hair spread out on the pillow beneath him. Her smile. Her smile was clear, though all the rest of his memories were blurred by the haze of the alcohol.
The driver parked the limo at the front entrance of the Bellagio and moved to retrieve their bags from the trunk. Allen jumped out to tip him. Archer was the next one out, followed by Drew. Charlie forced himself to move. His hand slipped on the handle of the door, and it whacked the frame of the limo like it was trying to stop him from getting out.
He got out anyway.
Drew walked next to him, behind Archer and Allen, and they made their way into the main lobby, their wheeled bags click-clicking behind them.
Allen led the way to reception, the patterned tiles smooth and polished under their feet. A bright spray of color beamed down from the enormous skylight, which had been decorated with a profusion of paper umbrellas. The lobby hummed with people, all of them excited, the air alive with their energy.
He couldn’t stay.
Charlie stopped dead next to a low, plush bench. Drew continued a few steps. Stopped. Turned back. His brother raised his eyebrows.
Charlie cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “I can’t stay.”
Allen was already at the desk, leaning in close to the woman behind the counter.
Drew came back, a serious look on his face. “It sounded like you said, ‘I can’t stay.’”
“I did say that. I can’t stay. I have to go.” The words tripped off his tongue in a nervous rhythm. “It’s not…”
Drew put a hand on his shoulder. “Go. I’ll make your excuses.”
“I just can’t—”
“Charlie. I get it. Okay? Do you need me to call a car, or—”
“No. No, I can take care of it.” A weight lifted from Charlie’s shoulders, and he took in a big breath that tasted like freedom. “I’ve got it. Thanks. Thanks.” He clasped Drew’s wrist in his, and then he turned and left the lobby without a backward glance.
It took the valet outside twenty seconds to call Charlie a taxi. It took him five minutes to book a commercial flight out at the airport. The next one didn’t leave for several hours, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was away from the Bellagio and headed back to Stephanie.
He settled into a corner booth at an airport coffee shop and leaned his head back, closing his eyes against the bright glare of the lights.
It wasn’t ideal, letting his brothers down like this. But neither was a repeat of his behavior five years ago. God, that would be a disaster…even if the disaster of five years ago had turned out to be a little bit of a miracle. After all, that night had resulted in…Jasper. How could he regret that, in the end?
The bottom line was that he was safer with Stephanie. And she was only a flight away.
8
The sound from the kitchen was like a knock in the night.
It jolted Stephanie out of the dream she’d been having, which had involved a carnival with a big Ferris wheel, the entire thing lit up with blinking lights. She’d been standing at the bottom. Jasper was in one of the seats at the top, waving at her as he crested the peak and started to descend. Her heart raced.
Who was knocking?
Had it been a knock, or was it part of her dream? The prospect of Jasper in danger, even in her dreams, made her stomach churn. She put a hand to her chest. The sound had probably been part of her dream, and she should just—
There it was again.
Suspiciously like a knock, but…not. She was pretty sure it came from the kitchen. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Nobody else was supposed to be home. It was just her and Jasper, who had fallen asleep while she read his bedtime story, and then…she must have fallen asleep next to him. Jasper was still in dreamland. He hadn’t heard a thing. His breathing hadn’t changed.
She sat frozen for several painful heartbeats. Part of her wanted to pull the covers over her head and squeeze her eyes shut and pretend she hadn’t heard anything, either. But what if a murderer was in the house?
Stephanie forced herself out of bed and planted her feet, which immediately felt ridiculous. What was she going to do, fight off the intruder with her bare hands?
The throwing axes.
Stephanie had seen exactly two weapons in Charlie’s home, and they’d been in his office, hanging over his desk—a pair of antique throwing axes in a shadow box. But was there glass? Or was it just the box?
She’d take the risk.
Stephanie blew a silent kiss to Jasper and darted out of the room. Charlie’s office was halfway between the guest suite and the living room, and she was light on her feet, as light as she’d ever been. Her footsteps fell in whispers on the carpet. Her heart felt
like it might explode from her throat when she made a sharp right into the office and stopped, listening.
The sound came from the kitchen again.
She flitted behind Charlie’s desk and—Score!—the shadow box was just a shadow box. It didn’t have a glass front. Stephanie reached inside and tugged at the first axe. It resisted. She pulled harder, then ran her fingers over the handle, searching. Was it screwed in? If so, she was also screwed.
She felt something like a rubber band stretched around the handle. Stephanie sawed frantically at the rubber with her thumbnail. Come on. Come on…
It gave way, and the throwing axe practically sprang out of the box. She caught it in an awkward grip, the sharp edge brushing against her skin.
Well. The dull edge. It was decorative.
Still, it was better than nothing.
She forced herself back into the hall, brandishing the axe and trying to arrange her face into an expression that would terrify an intruder.
The kitchen light was on.
The sound came again.
She stepped cautiously into the pool of light at the edge of the living area. Why wasn’t the intruder in sight, already? The anticipation inched toward a lethal level. A person could have a stroke from this kind of stress.
She heard the fridge door opening.
An intruder going through the fridge?
Charlie was supposed to be in Las Vegas. It couldn’t be Charlie. But someone at home enough to look for food?
She swallowed a thick lump in her throat and took another step forward. If she could just see who it was, maybe…
It was too much. Stephanie leapt forward with a screech that was meant to be a battle cry but turned out to be more like a strangled sneeze, the throwing axe held high above her head.
A crash and a curse, and the intruder straightened up in a fall of Tupperware.
“Charlie,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
He stared, eyes wide, then burst into laughter. “I couldn’t stay at the retreat, so I came home. But the first plane had mechanical issues, and then…” He waved a hand in the air. “Those details aren’t relevant. What matters is…” His forehead creased. “Is that one of my throwing axes?”
