by A. J. Pine
“It’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “Everything will be fine. I’ll figure this out. You guys just start without us, and we’ll be back soon!”
There was a little too much pep in her voice, but Holly wasn’t exaggerating for her guests. It was for herself. She had to believe that all her hard work and planning for the past few months had not been so she could hit a roadblock now.
“Take your car, Holls,” Brynn said.
“She’s right,” Jamie added while he tapped the keg and started filling glasses. “It’s a ghost town out there. You’ll wait forever for a cab.”
“Right,” Holly said. “The car. I’ll take my car. Of course.”
Brynn crossed her arms. “You did renew your license, right?”
Holly bit her lip.
“They let me do that sticker for the extension thingy because of my safe driving record.”
Brynn groaned. “When did the sticker expire?”
“My last birthday?”
Brynn kissed Jamie on the cheek then grabbed her bag. “I’ll drive you, honey.”
A throat cleared.
“I have an American license. An Illinois one, I mean.”
Everyone turned to look at Will.
“I don’t have much in my office there, but I should still head down to check it out.”
“Have you driven in the city before?” This question came from Jeremy.
Will shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“But you’ve driven in the States before, right?” Annie asked.
Another head shake. “Technically, I don’t need an international permit, but I applied for one anyway. I have a valid license in England, so that makes me eligible to drive here.” His gaze narrowed on Holly. “Where are your keys?”
Holly pulled out the kitchen drawer that was a catchall for everything she didn’t use but thought she’d need someday—like her car keys—and tossed them to him.
Brynn’s eyes moved back and forth between the two of them.
“Are you sure it’s safe? You know, other side of the street and car and all that?”
Will opened his mouth to say something, but Holly beat him to it.
“I trust you,” she said, specifically to him, and he beamed. She wondered what this night would have been like, Will cooking for the people she loved most while they laughed and drank and whiled away the evening with nowhere they needed to be in the morning. She wondered if he’d stay once he woke. Not that any of that mattered, since Holly had a pretty good idea tonight would be spent working, doing her best to recreate a presentation that most likely didn’t exist anymore. She’d have all of Monday as well.
Labor Day would be anything but a day off from work, but at least she had that cushion to prepare. That’s what she told herself as they walked around the corner to her car, a compact hybrid that hadn’t left its primo parking spot in months. Brynn made her start it every now and then just to make sure the thing still ran, but Holly saw the car as more of an in-case-of-emergency device, and tonight definitely qualified.
“Right,” Will said, sidling up next to her at the passenger door. “This is where I get in, yes?”
Holly’s eyes widened, and his face broke into a roguish grin.
“Joking, Holly. I’m joking.” Then he opened the door and ushered her inside.
“You’re lucky I like you,” she told him as he settled into the driver’s seat.
He put a hand on her cheek. “I am,” he told her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, then pressed her palm against the damp skin at her neck. “The heat’s not helping.”
Holly showed him how to start the car with the button rather than the key, and Will maneuvered out of the spot with expert precision. He gave her a look before continuing down the street.
“Still trust me?” he asked.
“I do,” she answered. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Yes, Holly.”
Will stepped gently on the gas and drove slowly to the intersection. He put on his left turn signal and began to accelerate when Holly grabbed his wrist.
“You can’t turn here. It’s one way for the next few blocks. Go up one more street, make a left. Go five blocks, and then double back over, and—”
“I’ve got it,” he said, his jaw tight. So she tried to relax, crossing her fingers not only that they’d get there but get there in one piece. Jamie was right. The streets were empty, so the odds were in their favor. Still, when Will did make that left turn—into oncoming traffic—she couldn’t help but slam on the invisible brake in the passenger seat.
He swerved into the correct lane, and she blew out a long breath.
“I’ve got it,” he repeated, but she heard the slight falter in his voice. She bit her tongue, wanting to prove that she meant what she’d said. She trusted him. And after a few minutes, his grip on the steering wheel loosened. When he made the next left, he turned into the proper lane. And when he merged onto the expressway for the short ride to the office, his right hand let go of the wheel completely and reached for hers.
“See?” he said. “Give me the keys, trust me not to kill us, and Bob’s your uncle. We’re here.”
He had already exited onto Trousseau’s street, and she could see the building, two police cars parked out front.
“Bob’s your uncle?” she asked.
“Means everything’s going to be all right.”
He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
“Let’s hope Uncle Bob is still waiting for us upstairs.”
Will laughed quietly as he parked on a nearby side street.
“If he’s not,” he told her, “I am.”
Chapter Sixteen
Will bypassed his own office, knowing there was nothing of import there if electronics were the target of the break-in. Instead he followed Holly to her desk. Andrea was there with police officers, going from cubicle to cubicle as employees arrived to assess the damage and fill out reports.
Holly’s desktop computer was gone.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice shaky. “I back up that one pretty regularly with cloud storage. I can probably find most of what I need.” But she didn’t need her desktop files right now.
The tablet was the issue. Holly had been so excited about this 3-D presentation application she was using to do a virtual set design. She’d shown a bit of it to him, and he’d been fascinated. She had an eye for the visual that he admired. He could set up appearances and interviews. He could wrangle high-profile sponsors. And he could stay in the loop on Holly’s side of things to make sure her visual plan worked in harmony with Tallulah Chan’s vision as well as his vision to put his client and her line of clothing in the best position when it came to the public eye. Though he couldn’t do what Holly did. They were a good team, but she was a unique talent.
“It may have been well enough hidden,” she said as she put her bag down on the chair. “I charge it in the drawer because I can feed the cord through the back. So maybe it’s still there.”
Will smiled and nodded, offering the best encouragement he could. Holly wrapped her fingers around the drawer handle, her hand unsteady. He laid his palm over hers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andrea approaching from the other side of the room.
“Whatever happens when you open the drawer, Holly, stay calm. Okay? Can you do that for me?”
She turned to him, eyes wide in question.
“You know how stressed Andrea must be,” he continued. “If the tablet’s gone, don’t let her know you’ve lost the presentation. We’ll figure something out. Together. I won’t let you go to that meeting unprepared. Just promise me.”
His throat grew tight. He was digging himself in deeper by not telling her about Andrea’s threat, but this wasn’t the time. Holly had enough on her plate if she had to put together a brand-new presentation in less than two days’ time. If she thought she’d lose not only the account but her chance at partnership? He didn’t want to be the
one to put that pressure on her. She put enough on herself as it was.
Andrea was steps away now. She’d be there when Holly opened the drawer, so he needed her to promise.
“Holly,” he pleaded. “Did you hear me?”
She nodded. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. I promise.”
Together they pulled the drawer open, Andrea there in time to catch Will’s hand on hers before giving him a knowing look. He kept his poker face and waited for Holly to react.
“Hey,” Andrea said softly. “How are things looking over here?”
Holly let her eyes rest on the empty drawer for a beat before she tilted her head up to meet Andrea’s gaze. He held his breath.
Holly cleared her throat. “I’m sure you already saw that my desktop was gone,” she said. Their hands no longer held the drawer handle, but they somehow still held each other’s. And as Holly spoke her next words, she squeezed his hand, and he knew she was using him as her lifeline to keep it together.
“My tablet’s gone, too,” she added, her voice flat.
Andrea sighed. “We’re doing laptops this time around. No more desktops. And I’m going to make it mandatory that everyone take their electronics home daily. Assholes found a way to get in here once. They’ll find a way to do it again.”
Holly nodded. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“Your meeting on Tuesday,” Andrea said, scanning the room absently and then turning back to Holly. “I can give you the company card to replace your tablet. It looks like they weren’t able to unlock the conference room, so the projector and conference camera are still there. You’ll be prepared to stick to the deadline?”
She stated it as a question, but Will was sure Holly heard exactly what he did—a command.
“Of course,” Holly said.
“Good,” Andrea said. “Tallulah Chan is our biggest account right now, and we can’t afford for anything not to go absolutely perfectly at this point. So, thank you. Both of you.” She held her hand up to her forehead like she was about to salute. “I am this close to losing it, so knowing we’re still on track with this event will save me from a stroke, at least for this week.”
“Ms. Ross?” A police officer approached. “Are these two ready to add their list of damages to the report?”
Andrea squeezed Holly’s shoulder and nodded.
“You’re my lifesaver, Holly.” She turned to Will. “Thank you both for coming.”
Then she was off to the next occupied cubicle.
Will stood by in stoic silence while Holly went over her missing items with the officer. Desktop, tablet, an external battery charger, power cords. It only took a couple of minutes to go through the contents. Her desk files were, thankfully, untouched.
They rode the elevator back downstairs in silence. The same went for the walk to the car. Once inside, Will let out a deep breath.
“You were brilliant in there, Holly. Just brilliant.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded.
“It’s gone,” she told him. “The presentation. My image files. All of it. I worked on it the whole weekend while you were gone and finished it up during the week. Now I have to replicate all that in a day?” Her breathing sped up as she spoke. “I…I have to start now. I have to go home and kick everyone out of the apartment and start now.”
Will blinked and tried to clear his head. “Do you always work when I’m gone?” he asked.
She waved him off like it was no big deal.
“Yeah. I mean, we spend so much time together during the week, so I sometimes play catch-up or get a little extra work in while you’re gone.”
He put a hand on her cheek, prepared to tell her that everything would be okay and that she needed to slow down and breathe. But when his skin met hers, he took a sharp breath.
“Jesus, Holly. You’re burning up.”
Her right hand flew to her other cheek.
“I am? I thought it was just hot out. Isn’t it hot out?”
Will shook his head.
“It’s down to the low seventies this evening. You’re ill,” he said. “You’ve got a fever.”
She rubbed a hand over her neck.
“My throat’s been a little scratchy, but I thought I just needed to hydrate. So I had some wine—I know, not the best for actual hydration purposes—and I thought that plus the heat… I don’t get ill.”
He started the car and pulled out of the spot.
“Call your sister and tell her they can finish the evening without us. She used to live there, so she can clean the place and lock up when they’re done, aye?”
She nodded. “Where are you taking me?”
He tried to pay attention to the speed limit, not wanting his singular focus to earn him a speeding fine.
“You’re exerting yourself too much.” His stomach twisted. “If I’d known you were working weekends to make time for me—” He trailed off. Now wasn’t the time to lecture her on a lifestyle he knew all too well. “I’m taking you to my hotel…if that’s all right with you, I mean. You don’t need to go home to a flat full of people, and you don’t need to worry about the presentation. Not tonight, at least. We’ll take care of everything tomorrow.”
“But,” she said, “we never go to your place.”
She was right on that point. He’d always preferred hers. The privacy, her bed, the way they could pretend that whatever this was between them wasn’t fleeting—that only existed at Holly’s flat. Tonight things needed to change.
He shook his head.
“You’re ill. Even if you work tonight—though I’ll see to it that you don’t—it’s going to be shite if you’re feeling like shite.”
Holly let her head fall back against the seat and sighed.
“I do feel like shite. Can I pull that word off?”
He grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it, laughing softly.
“Come home with me and let me take care of you. Let me give you one quiet night away.”
She dug in her bag for her phone and held it in her lap. He could see her warring with herself.
“It’s okay to let someone take care of you.”
She blew out a breath, and he didn’t say anything else. It had to be her decision.
He saw her swipe the lock on her phone and then tap a couple of buttons before bringing it to her ear.
“B?” she said a few seconds later, and he listened to the one-sided conversation. “Yeah, no. It was gone. My computer and my tablet. I’ll be okay…but…I’m sort of sick? Will says I have a fever.” She glanced at him after saying this, and he could hear Brynn on the other end speaking a mile a minute. “No. It’s okay. You guys finish dinner. If you’re okay turning off the grill and locking up, I think I’m going to stay at Will’s tonight.” Brynn was speaking again, but it was quieter, and he couldn’t tell if it was muted approval or disapproval. He guessed Holly did have someone to take care of her, and he wondered if that someone was okay with letting him step in for the evening. “Yes, I’m sure. Okay. Love you, too. ’Bye.”
She ended the call and dropped the phone back into her bag.
“All right?” he asked, and Holly nodded.
“All right.”
They stopped in the hotel shop before heading to his room and picked up a thermometer. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt the heat from her through his shirt.
“What else can I get you?” he asked.
Holly shrugged as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Ice cream, maybe? Anything cool for my throat.”
She sniffled, congestion setting in, and he hoped it was nothing more than the common cold, something that could be combated with rest—and ice cream. He grabbed a bottle of NyQuil from the shelf, which would hopefully help with the fever as well as let her get some rest.
“I think room service can take care of that,” he said.
Holly smiled.
Will charged the medical supplies to his room, waiting for Holly to balk at the gesture, bu
t she must have felt too awful to care. Whatever they’d been doing these past few months, she insisted on their relationship being an equal partnership—no one owing the other any sort of obligation.
“It gets too messy in the end,” she’d said. “Especially if one party doesn’t want it to end and the other does. I know that won’t be an issue for us, but still. On dates we go dutch, or else we take turns. No gifts and no financial commitments.”
He hardly considered cold medicine a gift or financial obligation, but he was sure if Holly was up for an argument about it, she’d give him one. What was funny was this urge to take care of her. He knew he could chalk it up to logic, that he owed her this since she was running herself ragged making extra time in her schedule for the hours she spent with him. But that wasn’t it. He was sure if he let her go home that Brynn would have stayed the night, made sure her sister was okay. She didn’t need him. But the thought of letting someone else tend to her tonight was out of the question. That person had to be him.
Holly popped the thermometer into her mouth as soon as they entered his room. Will led her right to his bed, pulled off her shoes, then swung her legs onto the mattress. He checked her temperature when the thermometer beeped.
“How bad is it, Doc?” she asked. “Can I keep my leg?”
He couldn’t help laughing.
“You’re quite adorable with a fever of one hundred and one.”
She pouted.
“I really am ill, aren’t I?” she asked in an English accent, an increasingly nasally one, and he laughed softly again, then kissed her burning forehead.
“You’re working too many hours,” he told her, thinking of how he’d felt those first two weeks he was here, unable to unwind until that July Fourth night in Holly’s bed. The travel, the anxiety of being one place when he wanted to be in another—it tore at him until he was barely functioning. Now he was the one sleeping like a hibernating bear while she was pushing herself beyond her limits. “You need to slow down,” he added.
She lowered and rested her head on the pillow, curling into herself as she did.