by JoAnn Durgin
Based on those statements, he must be aware that she planned on continuing the ministry she’d started in Lubbock. Before leaving that city, one of the most important things she’d done was find others to continue the work. She’d return a few times each year to oversee the program and visit the women she’d befriended.
He smiled. “You’re the type of person who gets involved in the community and blooms where she’s planted, if you’ll pardon the cliché. In other words, you’re a model employee for Belac.”
Tick tock. For some unknown reason, that clock now gave her an odd sense of security.
Although reassuring, those statements—especially the last one—reminded her that he was her boss and she was in his employ. “Were you advised of my suspicions as I explained them to the Mr. Reid imposter?” She cleared her throat. “For lack of knowing his real name.”
“Steve Robison. He’s my second in command and a longtime employee of Belac. The discrepancies were brought to my attention a few weeks ago, and I’m aware that’s why you’re here today. Please have a seat so we can talk more about it.”
Moving around his desk, Caleb settled in the black leather executive chair. Leaning one elbow on the arm of his chair, he appeared relaxed.
Caty returned to her chair. She’d heard of Mr. Robison but never had any personal dealings with him. Needing something to do with her antsy fingers, she tugged on the hem of her skirt, out of his range of sight. The scenario of pretense still didn’t sit well with her. On the other hand, making decisions for such a large corporation must be difficult. No doubt there were matters of which she knew nothing. At least he hadn’t said trust me. In circumstances such as this, those two words sometimes struck her as insincere. For what it was worth, she sensed he’d been upfront with her.
A thought struck her. C-a-l-e-b. She mouthed the letters. Of course! She almost slapped her forehead but tucked her hand beneath her instead.
Caleb leaned forward with a curious expression. “Is everything all right?”
“Belac? The name of your corporation is your middle name spelled backwards?” She shook her head and crossed her arms. “You sure pulled one over on us.”
“I didn’t intend to pull one over on anyone.” His brow furrowed and his tone took on a defensive tone.
“I’m sorry, but you have to know your employees have speculated on its meaning. Some of the theories have been very creative.” The name was different, but now that she understood the reasoning, it made perfect sense.
“I was nineteen years old when I started Belac.” Caleb’s voice was low. “I had no idea if my upstart corporation would last six days or sixty years.”
Caty did the mental calculation. At least she knew when the corporation was founded, so that made him thirty-six. Only thirty-six. For such a young man, he’d accomplished so much.
“I just turned thirty-seven.” The man was uncanny if not a bit scary in being able to read her mind.
“Mr. Reid, you have to know your employees hold you in the highest esteem. Founding such a globally successful corporation at such a young age—upstart or not—is nothing short of astounding. After we first met, I wondered if Abernathy might represent the ‘A’ in your name, but then I quickly discounted that thought. I thought you had to be a much older man.” She hadn’t meant it to sound like she was paying him idle flattery, and hoped he wouldn’t consider her words insincere.
“Thank you. Again, it’s Caleb. Like most things that endure, Belac didn’t happen overnight. It took a lot of nurturing and experienced its share of failures along the way.” Caleb straightened in his chair. Pulling something out of the middle drawer, he reached across the desk and offered it to her. “Here. Try this for your shoe.”
Taking it from him, Caty glanced at what she held in her palm. Glue. “Right here? Now?”
“Why not? Would you like me to fix it for you? Hand it over.”
“I would not, could not…” She returned his smile although she knew she’d run the course with the Dr. Seuss analogy. “I think I’m capable.” Slipping off her right shoe, Caty balanced it on her lap. Within seconds, she’d applied the glue. Then she capped the tube and handed it back to him. “All done now, thanks.”
“You might want to apply pressure on that heel for a minute. It’ll help to cement the seal.”
“Right,” she murmured. “You really are an observant and helpful—”
“Cowboy? Isn’t that what you called me?” His lips curved.
“Yes.” Caty lowered her gaze. “However, knowing you’re my boss changes things.”
“No reason anything has to change.” He waited until she looked at him again. “We’re Caleb and Caty sharing a conversation about our mutual interest in Belac.”
“As you wish.” If only it could really be that simple. As you wish? She’d never said that before, as if he were royalty, and she were his servant. And maybe her imagination was a little too fanciful.
Caleb returned the tube of glue to the drawer and then zeroed his gaze on her, his expression more serious. “Caty, I want you to continue to monitor the withdrawals. If there are more—no matter how big or small—I want you to notify me immediately with the exact amount, the location, any information you have. Even if you think it might be nothing, I want to be informed.”
“Of course.” Caty tested the heel before applying continued pressure.
“If the withdrawals continue, we’ll find the root source so they can be stopped. I agree with your theory that they’re testing the waters before they try something larger. It’s an age-old scheme, and if needed, I won’t hesitate to bring in the authorities.”
Caty nodded. “Since they were sloppy on the last withdrawal, I’m thinking it will happen again. Based on the pattern of withdrawals, such as it is, it’s my theory we can expect another one within the next month, two tops.”
“I agree, and we need to be ready.” Twisting the wedding ring on his finger in an absent way, Caleb studied her for a long moment. “What exactly are you afraid of, Caty?”
His question surprised her. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Right now? In life?”
“You had quite a run of…misadventures…before arriving in the office today. You even mentioned being nervous about this meeting. From what I know of Catherine Lewis, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the nervous type.”
“I’m not under normal circumstances, but this afternoon has nothing to do with my definition of normal, Mr.—Caleb.” She interpreted his comment not as a criticism but an observation. Based on her earlier behavior, she couldn’t blame him. She only hoped he wasn’t aware of her latest near-disaster on the way to the reception desk.
She shifted in the chair. “In truth, lurking in the back of my mind was the fear you might believe that I had something to do with these accounting discrepancies.”
“I think we can agree they’re not discrepancies so much as intentional errors that someone hoped wouldn’t be caught,” he observed.
Suddenly it made more sense. “The Mr. Reid imposter—Mr. Robison—was trying to determine whether I was a risk, wasn’t he? That’s what that was all about?” Then another thought slammed into mind. Oh, no. “I thought I was being transferred to Houston because the work I’d done in Lubbock warranted an upward move.”
Caty shook her head, feeling duped and foolish. “That wasn’t the case at all, was it? Mr. Robison wanted to keep an eye on me. Perhaps you share that suspicion?”
So much for not making judgments.
Caleb appeared more conflicted than angry. “I’ll admit there was a suspicion you might be personally involved. But one of the things I most admire about you, Caty, is how forthright and almost impossibly honest you are.”
“Impossibly honest?” Caty swallowed her misgivings. What could that mean?
“Not to mention compassionate. Based on your work record with Belac, combined with what I’ve personally witnessed today, I think you’d probably apologize to a fly if you’d thought you’d hurt
it.”
“Well, there goes my tough accountant image.” She tried not to squirm in her chair. “I’ve been known to kill a few flies.” What a conversation.
“If it makes you feel any better, at least in my mind, I’ve ruled out the possibility that you have anything whatsoever to do with the accounting discrepancies,” Caleb told her. “I can assure you, your job is not in jeopardy.”
“Thank you.” Drawing in another deep breath, Caty rose from the chair. “Now that I’ve stated my case, I should leave so you can get back to your business.”
“This is my most important business at the moment. Caty, can you give me the names of the person or persons you suspect are behind these accounting errors?”
Caleb’s gaze pinned her down and she lowered back into the chair. She should have known he’d get around to that question, but she wasn’t about to answer. “I don’t have any names to give you.”
He frowned. “Surely you have suspicions.”
Caty met those brown eyes. “I really can’t say.” She wasn’t willing to implicate anyone at this early juncture. That would be rash and premature.
“I see.” His jaw tightened. “Is your loyalty to others or to me?” The tough, hard-nosed A.C. Reid had emerged.
She gasped. “That’s hardly a fair question. It has nothing to do with my loyalty to Belac. It has everything to do with not accusing someone unfairly, especially a fellow Belac employee. That wouldn’t be right without proper substantiation. Besides, they’re only vague suspicions.”
Caleb sat back in his chair and blew out a breath. “You’re right. I apologize, although I think it’s most likely employees in Lubbock and Laredo since those are the locations with discrepancies. Or at least they were in the Lubbock or Laredo offices.”
Time to give him more evidence to back up her theory. “I visited the Lubbock Reidco gas station and did a little investigation on my own.”
That caught his immediate attention. “I’m listening.”
“I spoke with a trusted, long-time employee. She knew nothing of the so-called theft there. Regarding the damaged item in the Lubbock station, in the records, it was listed as a faulty automated coffee machine. It’s the one that makes cappuccino, the only machine that makes cappuccino in that particular station. According to my review of the records as recently as yesterday, no replacement machine has been ordered. I called a friend in Lubbock who gets her morning cup of cappuccino at that Reidco station.”
“And?” Caleb sat up straighter.
“She told me it’s the same cappuccino machine she’d been using for months,” Caty said.
“How does she know it’s the same one?”
“She knew because it has a mark on the left side…like a rust stain.”
He pushed a button on his phone. “Cordelia, please print a list of the employees who’ve transferred to Houston from the Lubbock and Laredo offices and bring it to me.”
“Right away, Mr. Reid.”
The man listened well. He missed nothing. She wouldn’t mind seeing that list herself. “May I ask why you moved the Belac headquarters from Dallas to Houston?”
“Personal reasons. I’m not at liberty to say more.”
Guilt shot through her. “I didn’t intend to pry into your personal life, and I meant no disrespect. If there’s nothing else, I’ve taken enough of your time. As you suggested, I’ll continue to monitor the withdrawals, and I’ll let you know at the first sign of anything suspicious.”
“Fair enough.” Lifting out of his chair, Caleb walked around the desk. “How’s the shoe?”
While he watched, Caty slipped on the shoe. Then she lifted and rotated her foot. “See? All fixed, thanks to you.”
“Good.” When he offered his hand to assist her from the chair, Caty hesitated. How could she refuse? She tried her best to ignore the strong rush of attraction as their hands touched. How silly, but it couldn’t be denied. In all her life, she couldn’t recall having such an immediate, strong physical reaction to a man. Somehow, she’d known his touch would be dangerous in its own way.
Lord, Caleb is married and he’s my boss. Please take these feelings away from me. For all she knew, he had a mansion in the Houston suburbs, a beautiful wife, and a whole passel of adorable kids. She needed to seriously ramp up her prayer time tonight.
“Earlier this morning, I asked the interior decorator to put a push on finishing your office.” Caleb walked with her and stopped beside the door leading into the main hallway. “It should be ready by the end of the week. I’d like to see you in place by next Monday. Cordelia is scheduling the professional movers as we speak.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“If you need additional assistance with anything, let her know and she’ll take care of it. I understand you’ve made other arrangements for moving into your personal residence.”
“I’m all set. The Lewis Brothers Moving Company is helping me.”
“As far as the office, it’s a liability thing,” he said, either ignoring or not catching her reference to her brothers helping to move her into the townhome. “We have to use the insured movers.”
“I completely understand. If you ever allow outsiders to see your office, I’m sure my dad and brothers would drool over your baseball memorabilia.” Her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Not that I’m hinting for an invitation. And not that they’d actually slobber over anything.”
She needed to stop talking. At least her job was secure, but she’d suddenly turned into a motormouth around her boss. Again. The man was notoriously private. It’s not like he’d host tours of his prized baseball collectibles, no matter how much he loved baseball.
“That might be arranged,” he said. Shocker. “In answer to your earlier question, part of the reason I moved to Houston was for a fresh start. I’d like to be more than a figurehead to my employees. I’ve been inaccessible too long.” When he turned his gaze on her, warmth simmered in their depths. “I have the feeling you might also be able to help me with that mission, Caty.”
Wow. Another shock.
“Just be yourself and be accessible, Caleb.” Addressing her boss in an informal manner suddenly didn’t seem as awkward as she might have thought.
He opened the door. “Thank you for coming to me with your concerns. I appreciate your diligence. We’ll figure out what’s going on and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Together.”
She gave his hand a brief shake. Even so, his hand—large and warm as it wrapped around hers—was enough to unnerve her all over again.
“Thank you for your time.” Turning, Caty escaped into the hallway, sensing that brown-eyed gaze on her as she walked down the long corridor.
Chapter 6
Since the restaurant was close to where her parents lived—her temporary home for the past two weeks—Caty darted back to the house to refresh her makeup and to change her clothes. Her parents weren’t home, but she called Sam to tell him she still counted among the living.
“Glad to hear it,” Sam said, chuckling. “Want to come over to the house for dinner? I’m not sure what Lexa has planned, but there’s always a place for you at the table.”
“Thanks, but I’m all set. I’m meeting Marta at The Back Door Café.”
“Sounds like fun, and that’s a great place. Tell Marta we’ve enjoyed watching her weather reports. I think she’s found her professional niche.”
“I agree. Her warmth and humor shine through even if she’s predicting a storm.” She chatted with Sam for another minute and then quickly sorted through her sparse wardrobe. For now, she was limited on her choices since most of her clothing was on the moving truck arriving late Friday night.
She tugged on her best dark dress jeans and then selected a light blue silk blouse. While buttoning the blouse, she slipped her feet into black high heels. Fully dressed, she gave her reflection the once-over in the full-length mirror of her old bedroom. Hmm. She hoped she wasn’t tempting anything by wearing sil
k but the heels had to go. Why tempt anything by wearing heels twice in one day? She wasn’t out to impress anyone, and it wasn’t like she wore the heels to make her taller. Tonight was all about fun and catching up with her friend.
After kicking off the shoes, Caty padded across the carpet to the closet and grabbed her red cowgirl boots. Sitting on the bed, she pulled them on. This was at least the third pair of red boots she’d owned in her life. She’d always been partial to the color. Ahhh. Nothing felt as right, or as comfortable. She breathed out a sigh of pure satisfaction. “Hello, old friends.”
Thirty minutes later, Caty sat across the dinner table from Marta.
After refilling their water, the female server quietly departed the room.
“What’s with the private room?” Caty grinned. “Don’t tell me. You have fans pestering you for autographs, don’t you? The celebrity needs her privacy.”
“I’m no celebrity. Nothing like that.” Marta waved her hand to dismiss the comment. “Eliot is joining us, after all, and he asked me to reserve a private room. I didn’t think you’d mind although I’m sorry we can’t have the serious girl talk over dinner like we’d planned.”
“It’s always a pleasure to spend time with Eliot. We can always talk on the phone tomorrow.” Still, the slightest twinge of disappointment pinched Caty. And it still didn’t explain the need for a private room.
“This is one of our new favorite restaurants,” Marta said. “I would have asked for patio seating, but it’s too chilly tonight. They play soft jazz in the courtyard, and it has a distinct New Orleans vibe. You can dance under the stars. It’s very romantic.”
“I can imagine. Sounds fabulous.” Caty sipped her water, ignoring another twinge. Not that she was jealous. Not really. Other than a somewhat serious relationship that lasted from her sophomore to junior year at Wheaton College, she’d been so focused on building her career that she hadn’t taken the time to think about romance. She’d had plenty of invitations for dates, but she’d turned down the majority of them. Why start something she knew wouldn’t last?