He had to step back, to think this through, to figure out what was holding her back and how to fix it.
* * *
Darci rushed through the apartment door to find Jennifer standing in the kitchen.
“I can’t do this,” she blurted, tossing her purse on the nearest chair. “I’m going to crack. I can tell. I can feel it.”
“Crack?” asked Jennifer, an ice-cream scoop in her hand and a carton of chocolate-ribbon cookie-dough on the counter.
Darci paced to the breakfast bar. “I went to Shane’s again.”
“I know. But you said you were going to stay in the yard. What happened? Did you find anything?”
“I found out that I’m weak willed.”
Jennifer scoffed out a laugh and dug into the ice cream, placing a second scoop in a glass dessert bowl. “Is that all? Join the club.”
“Are you particularly hungry?” Darci asked, realizing Jennifer was going to town on their favorite gourmet flavor.
“Starving. You want some?”
On balance, it seemed like a good idea. “Definitely.” Darci moved to the breakfast bar and hopped up on a stool.
Jennifer pulled another bowl from beneath the counter and filled it with two generous scoops. “Whipped cream?”
“Yes.” Darci took in Jennifer’s jerky movements and tight expression. “Wait a minute, is everything okay?”
“You first. What’s about to make you crack?”
“Shane.”
In response, Jennifer sprayed a generous flourish of whipped cream into each bowl. She stuck a spoon into the middle of one and pushed it across the counter to Darci.
“What happened with you?” asked Darci, rescuing the spoon before it could fall sideways.
“Ashton.” Jennifer took a huge bite of her own sundae.
Alarm bells went off in Darci’s brain. “Uh-oh.”
“He called.” Jennifer took another big bite.
“What did he say?”
“He asked me out. Tonight. He has a reservation at Mystique and tickets to Rainbow Quarter, fifth row, center. Do you know how hard those are to get?”
“You can’t sell your soul for fifth-row, center seats to Rainbow Quarter.”
Jennifer began eating the ice cream with gusto, her voice full of self-disgust. “That’s not the problem.”
Darci waited.
Jennifer looked up. “Problem is I’d sell my soul for a burger and nosebleed seats at minor-league softball.”
“You can’t—” Darci stopped herself, remembering how she’d felt when Shane kissed her today. “Never mind,” she said. “You shouldn’t. But I totally get it.”
She shoved a spoonful of the concoction into her mouth. The whipped cream had started to liquefy, but it was still delicious and a satisfying balm to her frayed nerves.
“Explain,” said Jennifer.
“I nearly jumped into bed with Shane Colborn this morning.”
Jennifer’s brows shot up.
Darci took another mouthful of the sweet indulgence. “He kissed me,” she said. “Again. And it was like... It was...”
“Like being swept up on an avalanche of chocolate-dipped hormones?”
“That’s pretty close.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” asked Jennifer.
“Big-time. Tell me you said no.”
“I said no.”
“To Ashton,” Darci confirmed.
“Yes. What else would I be talking about?”
“Nothing. Good. Stick to your guns.”
Time ticked by while they ate.
“What are you going to do?” Jennifer asked.
“For you, is it like some kind of overpowering, magnetic force?” Darci asked.
Spoon in her mouth, Jennifer nodded. “That’s why it’s scary.”
“Well, I can’t go back to the mansion,” said Darci.
They both ate in silence for a few more minutes.
“Unless you used it,” said Jennifer.
Darci didn’t understand. “Used what?”
“Used your attraction to Shane as a tool to spy on him.”
Darci still didn’t understand. “How would I do that?”
“Give in and go for it. The guy will eventually fall asleep. They all do.”
Darci couldn’t believe she was hearing right. She also couldn’t help imagining sleeping with Shane.
A calculating smile grew on Jennifer’s face. “You could wear him out completely, make him sleep for hours. I could give you some tips.”
Darci shook her spoon admonishingly, as much at herself as at Jennifer. “I don’t need tips. And I’m not going to wear Shane out with sex.”
“Kill two birds,” said Jennifer.
Darci ordered herself to ignore the outrageous idea. “Maybe the drawings are at the office. I’m going to focus there for a while.”
“Sometimes I wish you were less moral.”
“Are you saying you’d sleep with Shane in this circumstance?” Darci didn’t believe it for a second.
“I’d sure sleep with Ashton for the cause.”
“That’s completely different. You wish you could sleep with Ashton for any cause.”
“True enough.” Jennifer seemed to consider their situations. “You could always throw in the towel.”
“You mean give up fighting my attraction to Shane.” The more she said it out loud, the more it seemed conceivable, and that was frightening.
Jennifer grinned knowingly. “No. I meant give up hunting for your father’s drawings. That’s another option.”
“Oh.” Darci scooped up a bite.
Then Jennifer’s expression sobered, turning thoughtful. “Maybe it’s time to let the professionals take over. You could hire a private detective. Or check with a lawyer. If the Colborns ripped your dad off, there has to be a way to get a subpoena for the schematic drawings.”
“I’m afraid to tip them off.”
It took Jennifer a second to understand. “Because they might find and destroy the drawings?”
“This all happened decades ago, before we scanned and emailed copies of everything. One lighted match to the originals, and poof.”
“But you might never find them on your own. And you could go to jail for looking.”
“I haven’t broken any laws.” Darci frowned. “At least not any significant ones. They don’t throw you in jail for party crashing or snooping.”
“They might throw you in jail for theft.”
“If it gets to that point and Shane charges me with theft of corporate records, I’ll charge him with theft of intellectual property. We’ll see who blinks first.”
“That only works if you can find the drawings.”
“I’ll find them,” Darci said, digging deep for her earlier confidence. “They have to be somewhere. I’ll start fresh by scouring every corner of Colborn headquarters.”
Jennifer polished off the last of her ice cream. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
There wasn’t.
“Is there anything I can do to help with Ashton?” Darci asked in return.
As she finished the sentence, Jennifer’s phone rang.
“Let me talk to him this time,” said Darci.
“It’s not going to be—” Jennifer glanced at the screen. “It’s him.”
“Hand it over.”
Jennifer drew a steadying breath and held out the phone
Darci accepted it, pressing the answer button and holding it to her ear. “She can’t talk to you, Ashton.”
“Darci?”
“Yes, it’s Darci. You have to back off.”
“This is none of your business.” Ashton’s deep tone was uny
ielding.
“She’s my best friend.”
“Darci—”
“I can’t let you hurt her.”
“All I want to do is explain.”
“You’ve already explained. You’re a recovering narcissist. She gave you a second chance, and you hurt her again. ”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what we think.”
“I didn’t—” Ashton sucked in a loud breath. “Put her on the phone.”
“No.”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
“You’re right. It’s Jennifer’s decision, and she made it. Goodbye, Ashton. Have a nice life.” Darci hit the end button.
“Wow,” said Jennifer with a note of awe.
“You must have said all those things before.”
“Not so succinctly.”
“I was trying to be definitive.”
“You were definitely definitive.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll back off.”
Jennifer worried her bottom lip for a moment. “Maybe.”
Darci could all but read her mind.
Jennifer’s emotions were at war with her logic. Darci got it now. She hadn’t before, but her jumbled-up feelings for Shane helped her understand. Ashton might be the worst man in the world for Jennifer, but she was in deep and she couldn’t quite bring herself to walk away.
She scraped the bottom of her dessert bowl. “I think we’re going to need more ice cream.”
* * *
Shane couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he’d lost control of his own life, but it was definitely gone.
“There are at least three news reporters waiting out front,” said Justin as they headed along the hallway of the executive floor of the Colborn building, midafternoon on Monday.
Shane ignored Justin’s words, focused on more important things than reporters. “That’s when I realized even the chauffer couldn’t help me,” he said, beyond frustrated with the Darci situation.
“The Morning Rise television show,” Justin continued on his own train of thought. “The Circle magazine and something called Sax On-Line, which focuses on celebrity gossip.”
“He actually dropped her off at a cafe on Elm,” said Shane. “He didn’t take her to her apartment. Who does that? And how did I not get her phone number?”
Shane had belatedly realized he and Darci had set up all their plans in person. He should have thought to put her number into his cell, but he hadn’t. It wasn’t something he normally missed. After she left yesterday, he’d searched online for her contact information and had drawn a blank.
“Riley Ellis announced the deal with Gobrecht in front of a dozen microphones,” said Justin. “Now Bianca’s saying it’s further proof she was telling the truth in her book.”
“She’s got no online presence,” said Shane. “None. Nothing.” How did a person live like that?
“Bianca?” asked Justin.
“Darci.”
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” asked Justin.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said? I don’t know how I’m going to contact her.” There was an outside chance Shane wouldn’t be able to contact her. There was a slim but frightening chance she was gone from his life.
“If you talk to a reporter, we could lose Beaumont.”
Shane dragged himself back to business. “And if I don’t talk to a reporter?”
“We could lose Beaumont.”
“Then it doesn’t really matter what I do, does it?”
Justin stopped in his tracks. “What is wrong with you?”
Shane halted, turning to stare down his lawyer.
Justin nodded at the few people passing by. He stepped closer, moderating his tone. “This is serious.”
“Fine. It’s serious. What do you want me to do?”
“Go back to France. Hand hold while they sign on the dotted line.”
The last thing Shane wanted to do was leave the country again. He needed to keep looking for Darci.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“Yeah? When would be a good time for you? After the bankruptcy proceedings?”
“Don’t be so alarmist.”
“Don’t be such an idiot.”
Justin was right. Justin was smart. And Shane’s head was getting all messed up.
Fine, if he had to go to France, he’d go to France. But he’d do it as fast as humanly possible. “I want a corporate jet.”
Justin gave his head a shake as if to clear it.
“If I’m going to be bopping across the Atlantic with this much regularity, I want to fly private.”
In response, Justin pressed a button on his phone and raised it to his ear. “Ginger? Shane’s going to need a corporate jet. Tomorrow. Two, maybe three days in Europe.” He paused. “Thanks.”
“It was Tuck’s idea,” said Shane, not sure why he felt he had to justify the request. “But Dixon made some good points, too. Private is faster, more efficient, more flexibility.”
“You want a jet, we’ll get you a jet. We’ll use a service for now. But you can have one permanently if it makes you happy.”
“How did I not get her phone number?”
Justin pressed the elevator button. “You can’t go out the front door.”
“I know.”
Justin checked the knot on his tie and straightened his suit jacket. “She can’t be that hard to track down.”
“That’s what I thought. But there’s no Darci Lake listed in all of Chicago.”
They stepped onto the elevator.
“Social media?” asked Justin.
“Not that I can find.”
“Facial recognition? Got any photos?”
“Tuck,” said Shane as inspiration hit. “Tuck knows her.”
The elevator descended toward the basement level.
Justin went back to his phone. “The reporters are probably tailing your driver. But I’ll get a cab to meet us at the back entrance.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m not some hot rock star.”
“I know.”
“And I have nothing to hide.”
“You’re in a bad mood. It’s too easy for them to get a sound bite.”
“I’m not in a bad mood.”
“Ha.”
The elevator door opened at the basement level.
“It’s not because of Bianca,” said Shane. “And it’s not Gobrecht.”
“I know.”
“It’s—” Shane blinked and stopped dead.
He couldn’t believe it.
It was impossible.
But, there she was, standing outside the records center in his basement.
The elevator door started to close on them. His hand snapped out to stop it.
“Shane?” asked Justin.
“Darci?” Shane called out.
She turned.
When she saw him, her jaw dropped. The color drained from her face, and she gripped the lip of the counter.
He strode quickly forward, grasping her hands, making sure she was real.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you here?” He forced himself to change course. “I mean, it’s great to see you.”
“Darci,” came a sharp, disapproving female voice.
Darci glanced up, her expression a study in guilt and panic.
Shane turned to see Rachel Roslin, his records manager bearing down on them.
The second she recognized Shane, her entire demeanor changed. “Mr. Colborn, sir. Can I help you with something?”
Shane looked back at Darci. That was when he spotted a file folder tucked under her arm. And that she was wearing
a straight, navy skirt and a matching blazer. She looked...
She was working. She worked here. She worked at Colborn Aerospace.
Everything came together inside his head.
He instantly released her hands.
Justin had obviously reached the same conclusion and stepped in to distract Rachel. “We’re avoiding the media,” he told her. “A cab is picking us up out back.”
“Of course,” Rachel answered, still glancing suspiciously in Darci’s direction. “I understand.”
“I’ll need to borrow Darci,” said Shane.
The woman seemed stunned by the unusual request.
“We need some, uh, records support for an offsite meeting.”
It took Rachel a second to find her voice. “Certainly, sir. But I’d be happy to personally provide you with any—”
Again, Justin stepped up. “We wouldn’t want to take you away from your busy job. Truth is we need someone only for cosmetic reasons. The other party will bring along an entourage, and we want to even things out. Make Shane look important, you understand.”
“I certainly do,” said Rachel. “Darci, please go with Mr. Colborn and Mr. Massey.” She gave a decisive nod to end the command.
Darci hadn’t uttered a word.
“Do you need to get your purse?” Shane asked her.
She met his gaze, blinking with what looked like abject terror.
He wanted to tell her not to worry. Nothing was going to happen to her job.
She gave a shaky nod. Then she ducked her head and scooted off.
Shane felt an irrational urge to go after her. He couldn’t shake the fear he might lose her again. But he was standing next to both the basement exit and the elevators. She had no choice but to come back to him.
Rachel Roslin left as well.
“What is this?” Justin whispered under his breath.
“It explains why she didn’t want to sleep with me.”
“Really? Your ego is the first place you go with this?”
“It’s not ego. It wasn’t making sense.” All the signs had said she was attracted to Shane.
Justin snorted out a laugh. “Not all women want to sleep with you.”
“This one does.”
Justin shot him an incredulous look.
“Believe me or not, I don’t care. Here she comes.”
Shane’s vision tunneled to Darci as she made her way down the short hallway. He’d found her again. Nothing else mattered.
Sex, Lies and the CEO Page 10