"Maybe it's just because you've missed so many meetings lately," Pepper interjected with faux concern, swiveling in her chair to smile back at Addie. "I'd be happy to have lunch with you, get you up to speed."
Robert Jenner, behind Addie, tittered. Others took sudden interest in the polished surface of the cherry-wood conference table. Addie wondered how defensive it would make her look if she reminded everyone that technically she'd only missed the one meeting this week. She'd just been substantially tardy to another.
"Actually," Giff said from the head of the oval table, "why don't you have lunch with me, Addie? I hope you don't mind, Pepper. It occurred to me that, as project leader, it's really my responsibility to make sure everyone on the team is clear about our objectives."
Addie was stunned—and a little embarrassed—by his invitation. It wasn't as if she needed to be tutored! Then again, she could hardly admit that the reason she'd seemed "lost" was that she'd been lusting after him. Besides, Pepper's annoyed expression was somewhat mollifying. The woman clearly regretted that her attempt to make Addie look bad had resulted in a lunch date.
Not "date," lunch meeting. Appointment. Two-person seminar.
"Lunch would be great," she heard herself say, willing Giff to drop the subject and move on to a topic other than her.
"Wonderful. Now, back to what we were discussing. Our upcoming tasks are not unlike when banks and big corporations hire people to break in, so that security vulnerabilities can be discovered and addressed. I'd love to hear all of your thoughts on how you'd breach the network and how you'd hide your tracks." He flashed a wicked smile. "You know how actors are always saying it's more fun to play the bad guy? Now's your chance to think like a criminal."
Addie cleared her throat, anxious to say something—anything—that made her sound engaged in the discussion and mentally alert. "Why stop at hiding tracks? I mean, with the right programmer, there's a good chance the trail would eventually be uncovered, so why not do something diversionary, make it look like someone else's tracks? Most people would stop there and not 'waste' time by bothering to look further."
"Interesting." Giff's eyes were narrowed on her in a way that reminded her of Tuesday afternoon, when she'd been alone with him in the smaller conference room and had thought, for a moment, that he would start interrogating her at any second.
But maybe she was projecting too much intensity where really there was just thoughtfulness.
After a moment's consideration, he inclined his head. "Go on. Please."
She'd mostly been thinking out loud, so she faltered, trying to come up with plausible explanations of what she'd meant. But her training and talent for her job kicked in and she found herself outlining a couple of loose possibilities. Even though it would take a lot of time, combined with trial and error, to evaluate the specifics of such a plan, her coworkers seemed suitably impressed.
Robert Jenner chuckled, this time not at her expense. "That's some serious food for thought, Caine. Who would have guessed that cute smile hid such a devious mind?"
"I'll say," Pepper agreed. She shot Addie a coolly assessing glance over her shoulder. "Remind me never to trust you."
* * *
GIFF'S GAZE STRAYED TO the time displayed at the bottom corner of the computer screen, leaving him unsure whether he should be amused or annoyed with himself. He and Addie had planned to meet in front of the elevators at noon. He still had a few minutes before then, and he'd been glancing at the clock with the eager frequency of a fourteen-year-old anticipating his first date.
Ironically, he wasn't sure he even wanted to take Addie to lunch. It had been an impulsive gesture, which was unlike him. Pepper's cattiness toward her co-worker had inspired a sudden, gallant protectiveness. I wonder if this is how Jake usually feels about people. Giff's best friend since childhood, Jake McBride, was hero material. Now a fireman who rescued people on a regular basis, Jake had first met—and rescued—Giff in the fourth grade. At the time, Giff had been cornered by three bullies intent on beating up the privileged kid. Having Jake on his side had evened up the fight.
The two men had grown up as close as brothers, but when Giff's fiancée had canceled their wedding because she'd fallen for Jake well, the dynamic had become more awkward between all of them. Giff wasn't truly angry; he'd given them his blessing. But he hadn't rushed to return Jake's phone message, left on Tuesday, that said he was back in town and wanted to get together.
One of their favorite places to meet was a small, family-owned Mexican restaurant, Comida Buena. Giff's mouth watered just thinking about it and he wished he could take Addie there, but the drive was too long. Reflexively, he checked the time again. Not quite twelve, but he might as well go since he wasn't getting any work done here.
On the one hand, Addie was a lovely, intelligent woman whom he genuinely liked. But that made considering her as a potential thief unpleasant. Equally discomfiting was Addie's candid personality. She was just so different from the other women he knew—his stoic mother, who'd faced losing her husband and battling a disease; some of the polished Houston socialites he'd dated; his habitually reserved former fiancée. Not being a demonstratively emotional person himself, Giff felt as if he were walking on eggshells around more expressive people. Jake had picked on him in college because Giff agonized over every romantic breakup, his biggest dread that a girl might cry and he wouldn't know what to do. One ex-girlfriend had even teased him about his innate aloofness.
"You sure you're from Texas?" she'd asked. "Lone Star boys wear jeans, drive trucks and sing country music when they get their hearts broke. I think you were supposed to be born British. Stiff upper lip and all."
Calm in the face of crisis made him a great consultant. Clients could pull him in to deal with seemingly overwhelming problems that he helped them solve. And right now, Bill Daughtrie was the paying client. Despite Giff's annoyance with the other man this morning, he fully intended to do his job and scrutinize the IT team.
Hardly a chore when the person under his scrutiny had soft hair that framed her face in beguiling copper curls and great legs beneath her short black skirt. Addie stood waiting in the marbled corridor, and his gaze slid down over her, undisciplined and appreciative. The first time he'd seen her, he hadn't realized how beautiful she truly was. Which was understandable, given that she'd been tear-stained at the time and had been flying past him.
Since there were only two women on his team, it was difficult not to notice the stark contrasts between them. Pepper was, objectively speaking, a very attractive woman. But with her very long hair, sharp features and designer suits, there was something almost aggressive about her good looks. Addie was more like a painting that drew the eye again and again, each time enticing the viewer to notice something new, to appreciate her more fully.
He forced himself to meet her eyes, hoping that none of that appreciation was evident on his face. "Addie. Thanks for meeting me. You in the mood for anything specific?"
She shook her head. "I'm not picky. But before we go…You don't really have to take me to lunch. It might look like I need the extra hand-holding, but—"
"I don't think that at all," he assured her. With every interaction they'd had this week, she'd proven herself an asset to the team and a quick thinker.
Had Jenner's joking words this morning been more prophetic than he could know? Did Addie's bright mind hide a devious streak?
"But I'd really like to have lunch with you," he said.
"All right then." She flashed him a shy smile. "Anything but Puck E. Pizzas."
* * *
DESPITE THE OPPRESSIVELY muggy heat, they decided to walk to a nearby bistro. It hardly seemed worth the parking hassle just to go a few blocks.
"Besides," Addie admitted, "I need the exercise if I'm going to keep up with a bunch of kids on the soccer field. I'm supposed to get my team roster and a box of uniforms this weekend."
"For their sakes, I hope the weather cools down soon," Giff said. "When I look back
on my athletic days, I wonder how the heck I did it. Jake and I had two-a-day football practices every summer when we were in high school."
"Jake?" she echoed, trying to remember if he'd mentioned that name before.
"The hotheaded childhood friend I told you about." Giff's smile was bittersweet. "I'm an only child, but he's like family."
Her thoughts veered toward her brother. Feeling a pang, she quickly turned her attention back to Giff. "So the two of you are still close?"
Giff stopped beneath the awning of the restaurant and held the door open for her. "It's complicated."
She waited, wondering if he was going to entrust her with further explanation or if the topic had been officially dropped. The blast of cool air-conditioning inside was jarring but welcome, and there wasn't as much of a crowd as she would have expected. The hostess promptly led them to a table. A two-sided chalkboard with the day's menu written on it served as the centerpiece.
"The problem with menus when you're hungry," Addie said, "is that it all looks good."
Giff nodded. "I can't—"
"Giff! Gifford Baker?" A woman's delighted voice cut across whatever he'd been about to say.
Addie turned to see a beautiful brunette approaching, eye-catching in an electric-blue dress and white sweater. The woman's hair was styled in a sleek bob. Addie caught herself just about to self-consciously smooth a hand over her own corkscrew locks.
Giff's mouth had fallen open in surprise. He didn't seem quite as ecstatic as the brunette, who'd reached their table by then. "Brooke. Hi. I wasn't expecting…How are…You look great, by the way. Marriage obviously agrees with you."
The woman blushed, turning away from him and toward Addie. "I'm sorry to interrupt so rudely. I'm Brooke McBride."
"Pleasure to meet you," Addie said, not at all sure that it was. "I'm Addie Caine."
Giff's eyes darted around the interior of the restaurant. "Is Jake with you?"
"Oh, no, he's pulling a twenty-four-hour shift at the station. I drove into the city to meet with a magazine editor. We just finished, actually, and I highly recommend the quiche."
By the time she'd stopped talking, Giff seemed to have regained his composure. "Well, it was certainly nice to see you. Tell Jake I said hi. I've been meaning to call him, but I've been busy with work." He made a vague hand gesture that included Addie. "New consulting job. Network securities. Addie and I were planning to talk shop over lunch."
"Oh, the two of you work together?" The corners of Brooke's mouth turned down, as though she were inexplicably disappointed by this news. "Then I'll let you get back to business. But, Giff, we will see you at the reception in a few weeks, won't we?"
"Of course," he replied jovially, his smile not fading until she'd rejoined her own lunch companion and they'd headed for the exit. In a strangely matter-of-fact tone, as if he were commenting on someone else's life, he explained, "That was my former fiancée."
And she's already married to someone else? Interesting. Addie had been given the impression that the engagement had ended fairly recently.
Seeing her confused expression, Giff flashed a self-deprecating grin. "Brooke eloped with Jake."
"Jake, your best friend Jake?" Ouch. Addie was at a complete loss for words. What Giff had been through made her ex look like a saint in comparison.
"What can I get y'all to drink?"
Having all but forgotten that they'd come here for lunch, Addie jumped at the waitress's question. "Um, just a glass of water for me, thanks."
Giff ordered a sweet tea. They lapsed into silence as they each studied the menu. Addie felt as if the unfinished subject of Giff's broken engagement was still hanging over them, but she couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't awkward as hell. Instead of quiz him on his own romantic woes, she decided to let him know he wasn't alone.
"I was engaged," she said. "At the beginning of the summer. Not so much anymore."
He seemed surprised by her out of the blue announcement, but then a lazy grin spread across his face. "Did he run off with your best friend?"
"No." She couldn't help chuckling at how appalled Jonna would be by that idea.
Giff winked at her. "Then I win."
They both laughed, dispelling the tension between them. By the time the waitress returned to find out what they wanted to eat, they'd decided to each order something different and share. Neither of them got the quiche.
"You asked earlier," Giff began, "if Jake and I are still close?"
Addie waved a hand to where Brooke had stood. "Guess that answers my question."
"Don't misunderstand, I'm not bitter toward either of them. It's just that our encounters have been a little…strained."
She was impressed by what had to be massive understatement. "You're being very mature about this. If my ex walked in here, I doubt I'd smile and tell him he looked great. Or maybe I would," she reconsidered. "But inside, I'd be thinking diabolically vindictive thoughts."
Giff studied her quietly. "You think you have the ability to be diabolical?"
She compiled a quick mental list of pranks that she and Zach had played on each other when they were young. "Absolutely." Raising an eyebrow, she cautioned playfully, "Don't underestimate me."
"Noted." The look he gave her was so speculative that she almost pointed out that she was only kidding, but he spoke before she had the chance. "So what did happen between you and your ex-fiancé? I realize it's none of my business, but since you know my story…"
"It was the kids," she said. "At least, that's the excuse he gave. As soon as he realized that I would become their permanent guardian, he became distant and it didn't take him long to call the whole thing off. Said that he wished me the best but that instant fatherhood wasn't in his plans."
Giff scowled. "Your fiancé left you on the heels of your brother dying? How long had you been with this jerk?"
The quick way Giff took her side was immensely cheering. "Three years. But he made the right decision. He really wasn't ready for parenthood."
"And you were?" Giff asked.
She knew it was meant to be sympathetic, not an indictment of her parental abilities, but she winced anyway because his question was the same one she'd asked herself every day since Tanner and Nicole had come to live with her. "I like to think I'm doing the best I can."
"Oh, I'm sure of it. I know I only saw you with your nephew for a few minutes, but…They're lucky to have you."
"That's what Jonna says—my friend Jonna Wilder. I think the two of you have met, actually." She continued when he nodded. "But I have trouble feeling like these two kids are 'lucky' in any way after what happened to them. Tanner's been swimming since he was three—used to be like a fish in the water—and since his parents drowned, water terrifies him. He can't stand mention of the beach, he's practically afraid to sit down in the bathtub!"
Aware that this was becoming too morbid a conversation for a quick workday lunch with the boss, Addie tried to smile. "You got any advice on overcoming fears? What kind of stuff scared you when you were a kid?"
"Making mistakes," he said. "That was far scarier than getting cornered by bullies."
"You had run-ins with bullies?" Looking at his well-built, six-foot frame, she couldn't imagine anyone picking on him.
"Once." He smiled at her. "Before my middle school growth spurt. But it ended in my and Jake's favor and never happened again."
She was more and more curious about this childhood friend who'd fought by his side, then later stole his girl. But after the unexpected encounter with Brooke, Giff probably preferred not to dwell on that situation any more today.
"So why the deep-rooted fear of making mistakes?" she asked instead. "Everyone does."
"Everyone should. I've managed to mostly avoid it, which means I never learned how to screw up gracefully, how to recover and move on." He stopped suddenly, grimaced. "Oh, Lord, did I basically just say that I never mess up? I sound like the most arrogant man in the entire state of Texas."
He snorted. "Thanks for the perspective."
Their food came, and they each set about divvying up portions for the other to try. Giff proclaimed it all good, but Addie barely tasted anything, her senses too concentrated on the man across the table.
"I think I worried about making mistakes because of my parents," he told her, signaling to the waitress for a drink refill.
"Were they the type who tried to help you succeed by pressuring you?" Addie knew plenty of misguided parents who might truly want the best for their children but drove them to anxiety attacks; Jonna's folks had been like that. Addie's parents had been more mellow, especially since she was the second child, but wanting to live up to her big brother's example had always been enough to spur her.
"No, my parents were wonderful. Damn near perfect," Giff said ruefully. "They loved each other, respected each other, adored me. I wanted to be just like them. My mother had breast cancer last year, and I was so…There were these moments where I didn't know what to say, how to make it better, but I was so sure that if Dad was still alive, he would've—"
Addie surprised herself by lifting her hand to the tabletop and lightly squeezing his fingers. "She's lucky to have you," she said, echoing his earlier sentiment. While she'd never met Mrs. Baker, it was obvious how much Giff cared for the woman and what mother wouldn't consider herself blessed to have raised a son like that? "I'm sure she appreciated everything you said and did whether it felt natural to you or not."
The words were soothing. Even though she sometimes floundered with the kids, was the love behind her actions enough? Would they cling to that over the years and forget the accompanying awkwardness? She felt lighter, as if this conversation with Giff had eased some of the weight that had been pressing her down for the past month.
"There was one other thing," Giff began. "That I was afraid of? But I've never told anyone."
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