by Lisa G Riley
Kendra looked over at him. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and he kept them focused on the road ahead. She reached out and briefly cupped the side of his face. “I know you love me, Sloan, and I also know that this is something I have to do for myself. Thank you for wanting to help, though.”
“What else am I going to do? Helping you can only help me and our relationship. And you and our relationship are the two most important things in my life, Ken.”
The words were so sweet that Kendra almost cried from the purity of them. “I know, darling,” she said. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”
Sloan pulled in front of the hotel and let the car idle. He turned to look at her. “All right, Ken. I’ll hold you to that.”
“I hope you will,” Kendra said sadly, knowing it was going to be tough on the both of them. She gave him a kiss before climbing out of the car.
Chapter Six
Kendra finished the last of her water and pasted a smile on her face for Clio Sorbonne, the fifty-something designer of clothing for plus-sized women. “Well, Madame Sorbonne, it was a pleasure meeting you. I’m just sorry it’s taken so long.”
“As am I,” Madame Sorbonne said. “But we all have our busy schedules, n’est-ce pas?”
Kendra resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the woman’s pretentious, horribly accented French. Even her fake name was pretentious. She was originally from Arkansas, and her given name was Cleotha Brown. She’d remade herself and obnoxiously made sure that everyone knew it. Kendra would have been able to deal with that, but it was that combined with everything else that was Clio Sorbonne that had made Kendra wish throughout the meeting that she could be anywhere but there. Kendra looked over at her boss and the owner of L and H, Lawrence Harris, who was practically leaning across the table to hang on Clio’s every word.
“You are so right, Clio,” Lawrence said with a laugh. “I know my plate is always full. And since you’re a business owner like I am, I’m sure you really never have a free moment to yourself.”
Kendra ground her teeth and avoided looking across the table at Mozell Reese, her friend and coworker. She was such a clown, she was probably making faces or something. Lawrence’s laugh had been ingratiating, oily, and sensual all at the same time, and Kendra didn’t want to see Mozell’s almost certainly inappropriate reaction to it. “Yes, well,” Kendra began in an effort to bring things to a close, “you can rest assured, Madame Sorbonne, that your marketing manager has been doing a good job in your stead. But isn’t it lucky that your unexpected trip to Chicago gave us this opportunity to meet?”
“Yes, indeed,” Clio agreed, her gaze on Lawrence, and her intimate smile directed solely at him. “I’m glad I was able to just drop in like I did. I love Trista, but I didn’t get where I am today by not knowing what’s going on with my business. I’m sure you understand.”
“Heck, swee – uh, Clio,” Lawrence began. “There’s nothing to understand. It’s your company; you run it as you see fit.”
Clio preened. “I knew if anyone would understand, it would be you, mon ami.”
“Mon Dieu,” Kendra muttered under her breath. She wished with all her heart that they’d just leave and find a bed somewhere and put the rest of them out of their misery. The whole I of their being business associates was wearing thin and had been for the past hour and a half.
“Well, mes enfants,” Clio said as she prepared to rise. “I must fly.”
Kendra watched Lawrence rush around the table to pull out Clio’s chair and stood to shake the other woman’s hand. “It was nice meeting you, Madame Sorbonne. And don’t worry; your account is in good hands.”
“Yes, it is,” Mozell chimed in as she too stood to shake Clio’s hand.
“Oh, I know that.” Clio’s tone was dismissive. “I trust Lawrence fully, and I know that he’ll do right by me. I just wanted to meet the two women who will be handling the campaign. I was a little concerned when I first saw you, because you’re both…um…let’s just call it less than full figured, and I didn’t think that there was any way you could understand what was needed for those of us who are more generously built. But after talking to you, I see that you do. So carry on, mes enfants. Tah,” she said with a two-fingered wave before turning to leave.
“I’ll see you two on Monday,” Lawrence said as he prepared to follow Clio from the restaurant.
“It’s about time they left,” Mozell said with a look of disgust as she sat back down. “You know they’re about to go have sex, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’d figured as much,” Kendra said drily. “They weren’t even really trying to hide it.”
Mozell’s brown eyes twinkled with devilment as she leaned in to whisper, “They were making out like a couple of hormonal teenagers before you got here.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not. I was early, and I saw them kiss right before they walked into the restaurant. They obviously had just left her room.”
Kendra shuddered. “Okay, I need to erase the image from my mind. Give me a second. It’s like thinking about your parents doing it.”
Mozell laughed. “Please. Nasty older people need to get their freak on just like everybody else. But if she had called us her children one more time, I was going to put my less-than-full-figured fingers around her more voluptuous neck and squeeze until her head exploded.”
“I know what you mean. God, her French was awful!”
“Ain’t that the truth? And she’s lucky, because I’m starving, and when I’m hungry, I’m not the most patient—or tolerant—woman. Want to order more food?”
Kendra didn’t blink at the change in subject as she picked up her menu. “Of course I do. I hate it when Mr. Harris orders for the whole table. I don’t know how he thinks anyone can survive on a little bowl of fruit and a couple of slices of toast. I’m a grown woman.”
“Right! But it had nothing to do with his thinking fruit was enough for everyone. Old Cheapo just didn’t want a big bill. Even the fruit was six dollars!”
Kendra frowned and picked up the slip of paper that was on the table. “Well, he’s not paying,” she said as she read the unpaid bill. “He’s stiffed us with the check!”
“That rat bastard,” Mozell mumbled and took the bill. “That’s okay, though. I’ll just use my corporate card, so he’ll be paying for it anyway.”
Kendra laughed. “Good. I would use mine, but since you’re the higher-ranking employee here, it’s on you.”
“That’s cool. Let’s order.” Mozell signaled the waitress.
*
Kendra pushed a half-empty plate of blueberry-cashew pancakes away. “Phew,” she said and sat back. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“That’s too bad.” Mozell forked up more of her own banana-walnut pancakes. “They make the best pancakes here, and I’m not stopping until every crumb is gone from my plate.”
Chuckling, Kendra studied her friend. The two of them were such opposites, but in the eight months since Mozell had been transferred from Boston to L & H’s Chicago office, the two had hit it off. It still surprised her. Kendra was the buttoned-down, conservative type, a senior account director who never made a decision without weighing all of her options first. By contrast, Mozell was a carefree flower child who made decisions based on what she felt, never stopping to think twice. Apparently it worked really well for her, because at thirty-four, she was a vice president of creative.
“I don’t know how you eat so much and stay so skinny,” Kendra observed. Mozell was tall and thin with more-than-ample breasts. “All the weight must go to those huge boobies you’re carrying.”
Mozell’s laugh was light and husky. “Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m bountiful and you wish you could be.”
“I’m fine just the way I am, thank you very much.”
“Well, I know Sloan thinks you are, since every time I see the two of you together he can barely keep his eyes, hands, and lips off you. Speaking of your man, what time does he g
et in today? Shouldn’t you be leaving?”
Kendra smiled. “Actually he came home yesterday. He wanted to surprise me.”
“Oh cool. Still. I’m surprised you didn’t leave when Madame Clio and Mr. Harris did. Usually when Sloan comes home from a trip, I don’t see hide or hair of your sex-starved behind for days on end.”
“Well, this time is different,” she chided. “His brother is in town, and they haven’t seen each other for months. I’m giving them time alone together.”
Mozell perked up. “Sloan has a brother? Is he as handsome as Sloan? How old is he? What’s his name? How tall is he? Why haven’t you ever told me about him before?”
“Slow down. In answer to your questions: yes, almost, thirty-two, Kyle, six feet one or two, so a couple of inches taller than you, and I guess I never told you because Kyle is hardly ever around, especially since you and I met. Now I have a question for you. Why are you acting so desperate? You’re hardly ever without a date.”
“I’m not desperate—just conscious. Sloan is a great man, Kendra, and if his brother is anything at all like him, I want to meet him. It’s a simple as that. Good men are hard to find.”
Concerned, Kendra frowned. “I didn’t know it was that serious for you, Zellie. You never said.”
Mozell shrugged. “I’m thirty-four years old, and I want to get married and have children. So while it’s not desperate, it is serious. Think about it. I first have to meet the man and get to know him. That could take at least a year. It could take another year before we decide to marry, and then maybe another year to plan a wedding. That’s three years. I’d be thirty-seven before I could try to have a child.”
“I never looked at it that way. But maybe you could shave off some of the time. Maybe it won’t take a year to meet and get to know the guy. Maybe it will only take half that, and of course you don’t have to take a year to plan a wedding.”
“Maybe, but I know myself. I don’t think I could get to know a man in less than a year the way I’d need to know him before I married him. Look at you and Sloan. You guys have known each other for four years, and you’re just now planning a wedding.”
Kendra smiled. “Yeah, but that’s only because I resisted him at first because we worked together. Then I had to be sure of him, so I moved in with him first. Sloan asked me to marry him three years ago.”
Mozell’s mouth dropped open. “Three years ago! What took you so long to finally say yes? Didn’t you love him?”
“Of course I did. Still do, in fact.”
“So what was the holdup, then?”
Kendra squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. “Okay. We haven’t known each other that long, so you don’t know about my childhood, but my father left my mother and me constantly for months at a time and then abandoned us for good when I was twelve. So of course I have—had—issues with men and trust. You can’t imagine how hard it was for me to get to the point where I could trust Sloan not to leave me, but I love him, and I wanted to try. He was the first man I was even willing to try to trust, and by that I don’t just mean my body—though he’s my first and only lover—I mean everything—my emotions, my mind, my trust—all of me.”
“I’m confused. What does your father’s leaving got to do with Sloan?”
Kendra looked at her friend in surprise. Mozell really did look confused. “I know you have to know that our childhoods affect us as adults.”
“Yes, I do know that,” Mozell said patiently with a shrug. “But Sloan is not your father. I guess I’m just projecting. I think that I probably would have made sure that I found the exact opposite of my father. I don’t think I’d mistrust all men because my father was untrustworthy.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Kendra said. “Some people would have mistrusted men and stayed away from them like I did, and others might have gone out with many men or the wrong men in search of their father. Who’s to say what any one person would do? I can only tell you what I did. But aside from all of that, Sloan is the opposite of my dad. That’s not the point. The point is that subconsciously I don’t—didn’t—trust men, because the one man I was supposed to be able to trust from day one had abandoned me.”
Mozell’s nod was slow and contemplative. “I see. So how’d you overcome it?”
“By realizing what you just said: Sloan is not my father, and I shouldn’t judge him by what my father did.”
“That must have been a relief, huh?”
“Yes, it was,” Kendra said and tried to smile. She didn’t think it necessary to bring up the minor skirmish with Sloan or to tell her friend that the worry lay just in the back of her mind, always ready to pounce. “So anyway,” she said to change the subject. “If you want to meet Kyle, I can certainly introduce you, but I have to tell you: he’s an awesome guy, but he’s played the field for as long as I’ve known him. Also, he hasn’t always been all that stable when it comes to holding a job and his finances. But from the conversation we had over dinner last night, he seems to finally be on the right track.”
“So he’s broke and a player?” Mozell brought the situation down to its bare bones. “No, thanks, I think I’ll just steer clear of Mr. Kyle John—Wait. But you did say he was hot, didn’t you?” She reconsidered her options with a hopeful smile.
Kendra burst into laughter.
“I’m serious, Kendra. Is he in the wedding?”
“Of course. He’s Sloan’s best man.”
“Well, shoot,” Mozell said with a disappointed pout. “That means he’ll be paired with Victoria instead of me.”
“But you can still meet him.”
“I know, but Victoria is just drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Yeah, she is,” Kendra said, referring to her best friend, “but she’s not in Chicago, and you are. And besides, you’re no slouch in the looks department yourself.”
“I’ll do in a pinch. How long is Kyle planning to be in town?”
“At least a couple of weeks, I think. Do you want to meet him?”
“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
“Well, let me know. Maybe I can plan dinner at our place or something; otherwise he’s going to be busy catching up with family.”
*
Sloan frowned in concentration, hoping he had read wrong. After dropping Kendra off, he’d decided to check in at his office. Saturday or not, after three weeks’ absence, he needed to make sure that everything was running smoothly. He’d gone over the accounts of his personal clients before starting in on those of his associates. It was the Patterson trust that brought him up short. Things were off—way off.
“After the way you joked with Kendra yesterday, the last place I expected to find you today was in the office.”
Distracted, Sloan looked up to acknowledge Kyle with a nod before going back to his work. He’d called Kyle earlier and told him to meet him at his office so they could drive out to their parents’ place together.
“Is something wrong?” Kyle asked as he fit his lanky frame on Sloan’s sofa.
“Mmm,” Sloan answered in angry confirmation without looking up.
“Was it something I said?”
Ignoring him, Sloan picked up the telephone receiver and dialed a number. He waited impatiently for his call to be answered. “Hello, Megan. How are you?” On edge, he practiced phone etiquette and slogged through the pleasantries. “I’m well, thanks. The kids are fine? That’s good…good. Listen, I need to speak to Pete… Fishing? When will he be back… All right, then. I’ll see him in the office on Monday. Thanks.” Unable to contain his fury any longer, he swept his arm in a wide arc, knocking the phone and most everything else on his desk to the floor. “Goddamn it!”
Kyle had risen and was already at Sloan’s desk. “What’s wrong?”
His anger still in control of him, Sloan abruptly stood, shoving his chair back as he did so. “Unless I’m wrong—but Jesus, I know I’m not—someone is stealing from the Patterson trust.”
Kyle frowned. “What?”
&nb
sp; Sloan sighed. “Terrence Patterson was a janitor. He died about a year and a half ago.”
Terrence had been cleaning Sloan’s office one late night and had struck up a conversation. They’d hit it off and would occasionally go out for a drink after they’d both finished their work. Terrence always cleaned Sloan’s office last because his firm was housed on the top floor of the building. He’d wait around for Sloan to finish up, and they’d head out. It wasn’t until they’d been out a few times that Sloan learned Terrence owned the cleaning company, which had offices in almost every large city in the midwestern and western states. The casual drinks had been his way of making sure Sloan was the right person to represent him. Eventually he’d come on as one of Sloan’s clients, and Sloan set up the trust. And now it looked like someone was stealing from it.
“Are you saying you don’t know for sure that money has been stolen?” Kyle asked.
Sloan ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and picked up the papers that had fallen to the floor during his brief tantrum. He looked down at the numbers again. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “Money has been stolen. It’s all there in black-and-white.”
“Let me see,” Kyle said, reaching over to pick up the computer printout.
Sloan held the papers out of his reach. “No. It’s confidential.”
Unsurprised, Kyle only shrugged. “What are you going to do about the thief?”
“First I’ll have to root the bastard out.”
“You don’t know who did it?”
“Unfortunately no. There are three associates connected to the trust: Patrick Thomas, Donovan Shaw, and Pete Taylor. Patrick and Donovan are the point people on the account, and Pete oversees it. Of course, Pete reports to me. And there’s Emily Walsh, Pete’s assistant; because he’s the lead, she also needs almost unlimited access.”
“Well, what about your assistant?”
“Mrs. Cantera?” Sloan asked in surprise. “Yes, she has access too, but Mrs. Cantera would never do anything like that. She came over with me from L and H and stuck with me through those first few lean months. She’s as devoted to the firm’s success as I am, and I…guess I’d better add her to the list as well.”