Jessie smiled, hating the sudden shame that squeezed at her chest. “Thanks, Chloe. I’m learning a ton.” And, when she was safely alone, she could learn a lot more.
Enough, she hoped, to make a decision about how and when to tell Fin who she was. She had to. If she didn’t want to lose Cade, she had to come clean. And, like her father had said, she just needed some indication that Fin would welcome the news.
After Chloe left, Jessie waited for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath.
All she wanted was some shred of evidence that would show her Fin had an interest in finding her birth daughter. She had no earthly idea what that would be or where to find it, but she had to try.
Jessie glanced at Fin’s desk, as neat and organized as the woman who normally sat there. Most people kept their private files right there, at their desk. Not out in the hall, where Chloe would manage them. And probably not over in the dark wood credenza that doubled as a file cabinet and a piece of furniture. They would be in her desk.
Blood sang through her ears as she stood, casually approaching Fin’s chair.
She had permission, she reminded herself. Chloe had asked her to answer the phones. If someone walked in, it would be perfectly understandable for Fin’s shadow intern to be jotting down the name of someone who’d just called.
She was covering for Fin’s assistant.
But who would she say called? Jessie tamped back the roadblock. That was the least of her problems if she got caught.
She eased into the leather chair, leaned to the right to peek into the empty vestibule outside of Fin’s office, then listened for any sounds of approaching feet.
The carpet would silence them, but Jessie would sense if someone was coming. She placed a clean pad of paper and a pen at the edge of the desk. As soon as she heard anything, she’d act like she was writing a message. The phone was inches from her hand. She could even lift and drop the receiver as though she were hanging up the phone.
With one more shaky breath, she reached over and gave the desk’s lone file drawer a tug. Unlocked, it rumbled open. Thank God Fin was trusting.
A little pang of guilt accompanied that thought as Jessie began to finger through the neatly typed filing tabs.
There were four folders with the names of foundations where Fin had done some philanthropic work. Two labeled with doctor’s names, perhaps personal medical files. One called “Design and Decorating” and another with the name of the woman Jessie recognized as Fin’s housekeeper. The last file was marked with an address, but when she slid it out, she realized they were condo association documents and she quickly replaced the folder in its slot.
They were personal files, all right. But nothing so personal it was labeled Child Given Up For Adoption. Jessie almost laughed at the stupidity and naivete of her plan. Of course Fin wouldn’t keep files like that.
But Jessie had one irrefutable fact. Fin had contacted and listed herself and Jessie’s birth date on one of Canada’s premier adoption finders Web sites. And Jessie had been born in Canada, at a convent, and her birth mother had been a fifteen-year-old girl by the name of Finola Elliott. That much she’d pieced together from bits of information her mother had given her and what the Mother Superior had told her when she called.
She glanced at Fin’s computer, where the Charisma logo bounced around as a boldly colored screen saver. On a lark, she tapped a key to bring the monitor to life.
Enter Password.
There was no way she was attempting to hack into Fin’s computer. This wasn’t Mission: Impossible. This was real life. Maybe an impossible mission, but her real life.
Her skittishness and nerves had been replaced by a fine sense of frustration. Dropping back into the chair, Jessie’s gaze moved around Fin’s beautifully appointed office, the monument to a Type A overachieving woman.
A woman, Jessie thought miserably, who probably wouldn’t want a reminder that she’d slipped up twenty-three years ago.
Maybe Jessie should just forget the whole thing. She knew Fin. And she liked her. Did she need more?
Yes. She needed to stop lying to a man she cared for. If there was any chance, any chance at all, then he had to know the truth behind what he’d heard her say. She’d been hurt and angry when she’d left his apartment last night, but during a sleepless night, she’d decided that she was asking a lot of him to just “believe” her. If they were going to have a chance, she’d have to tell him the truth. And she’d have to tell Fin.
She blew out a long, disgusted breath as she arrived back at square one.
The phone startled her out of her reverie. Reaching for it, Jessie pressed the talk button and copped her most professional voice. “Finola Elliott’s office. May I help you?”
“Jessie?” Fin’s voice lifted in surprise. “Is that you?”
“Oh, hello Fin. Chloe had to run out and I’m covering the phones.”
“Let me guess. Sale at Bloomie’s?”
Jessie chuckled, liking that Fin knew so much about her employees and kept all judgment out of her tone. “No, Saks.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re there. Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“On top of my credenza, I left a file on freelance writers. Can you grab it for me? I need a phone number for David Luongo.”
“No problem. Hold on a second, I’ll see if I can find it.”
The stand up file rack on the credenza held a few manila folders, and Jessie found one labeled Freelancers in a matter of seconds. “Here you go, Fin.” She read the requested number and closed the file.
“Thanks, Jessie. I appreciate the help. Did you get that hemline article proofed?”
“Sure did. It’ll go to production this afternoon.”
“Awesome. You’re doing a great job, Jessie. I’m going to get a little too dependent on you by the end of September.” Fin’s voice was rich with warmth and honesty.
And why did that send silly shivers of hope down her spine?
“Thanks, Fin. I’m having a blast.”
When they hung up, Jessie walked the folder back to its proper place, a smile tugging at her lips. Fin really liked her. They’d clicked.
How bad could it be for her to know the truth?
She’d come to New York to find out who her birth mother was. And now she knew. But it wasn’t enough. Now Jessie wanted a relationship with her.
But did Fin?
On an impulse, Jessie yanked open the credenza drawer to search more files. These folders were work-related, all the tabs indicating they contained information on staff and personnel, which sent a frisson of discomfort through her. She didn’t want to spy on her colleagues.
In the drawer to the right, the files were all specific to finances: accounts payable, profit and loss by month, payroll. God, that was even more intrusive than employee files. The last thing she wanted to do was see payroll.
At the very back of the drawer, the last file was labeled Stimpson, P.I.
P.I. Private investigator? Of course, they probably used one once in a while for employee background checks. But wouldn’t that be over in the personnel drawer? Had it been misfiled?
Her fingers closed over the manila folder and she slid it out.
Frozen, guilty, terrified, she stood with the closed file in front of her. She had no right to do this.
It was wrong.
But it was necessary.
Laying the folder on top of the open drawer, she flipped to the first page and stared at the creamy letterhead.
Robert F. Stimpson, Private Investigator.
Dear Ms. Elliott:
Jessie swallowed and forced herself to read.
We have received your check in the amount of $2,500 as a retainer for a adoption record’s search you requested for the country of Canada registered for the year of 1982.
Her entire being thumped as her heart kicked into a full gallop. Lord above, Fin had hired a P.I. to find her.
Somehow she managed to c
lose the file and gingerly replace it in the back of the drawer, her legs trembling as adrenaline and happiness surged through her.
With a soft yet definitive click, she closed the heavy file drawer until the carved wood blended with the rest of the piece of furniture.
“Find anything good?”
A gasp caught in her throat as she spun around.
The accusation in his tone was as piercing as the disappointment in his eyes. But the worst part of all was the cluster of yellow flowers Cade gripped in his hand.
Nine
Blood drained from Jessie’s face as she stuttered, and her body visibly quaked. Getting caught red-handed did that to a person.
“Don’t even try to lie,” Cade said quietly. “I’ve been standing here for a few minutes.”
Ever since he’d heard her voice on the phone, and he’d approached Fin’s office with a handful of high hopes and trust. But what he found when he rounded the corner and peeked into Fin’s office dashed any and every hope he’d had for a future with Jessie Clayton. And every shred of trust wilted faster than the flowers would.
If she had been anywhere but those files, maybe. But there was only one reason to snoop in there.
“I’m not going to lie,” she said, her voice strong considering how guilty she was.
He squeezed the ridiculous bouquet of flowers he’d just pilfered from the Park Avenue median. His grip was so tight that a few of the stems cracked in his palm.
“I can explain,” she continued. “But not right away.”
“Of course not,” he countered, his own tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’ll have to check with whoever’s paying you to sniff around this place.”
She shook her head. “Cade, you need to—”
“No.” He fought the childish urge to throw the flowers on the ground. “You need to leave. Now.”
Her head jerked as though he’d slapped her. “Are you firing me?”
Was she serious? “Jessie, I just saw you reading confidential financial records. There’s no reason, no real or imagined reason, for you to be in that file drawer other than to access information to share with competitors.”
She opened her mouth but he held out his hand to stop her lies. “Don’t even bother. Fin would never send you in there for something, so don’t make something up. Just get your stuff and leave. I won’t call security.”
“Security?” She choked out a soft breath. “Cade, you’re going to be really sorry when I tell you what a mistake you’re making.”
His gut twisted. “I’m already sorry. I’m sorry I trusted you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to my gut. I’m sorry I—” No, he wasn’t sorry he slept with her. He wouldn’t have given up that pleasure, that connection for anything. “The only mistake I made was falling for you. I can get over that.”
She just stared at him. Slowly, a hint of color returned to her cheeks as she notched her chin up to a defiant angle. She walked across the room toward him, her shoulders square, her gaze direct.
For one agonizing and insane moment, he thought she was going to kiss him.
Instead, she paused in front of him, removed her glasses with maddening deliberateness, then dropped them on the floor. Without taking her eyes off him, she stomped her heel over the frames and snapped the plastic.
“You didn’t fall for me, Cade. You have no idea who you fell for.”
She marched out, leaving behind the overpowering scent of trouble in Fin’s office and one mangled pair of glasses on the floor.
Jessie perched on a smooth rock on a hill in Central Park, with Rollerbladers and bikers and, of course, a few young lovers, cruising by. Lucky people. Not one of them had just been handed the greatest gift and the biggest heartbreak in their lives in the span of one minute.
We have received your check…adoption records search you requested for the country of Canada…
Of course it was possible Fin only wanted to know that her daughter was alive and had been raised in a happy home. Jessie knew enough about adoption searches to realize that not all birth parents actually sought a reunion, as much as they needed assurance they’d done the right thing.
True, Fin was a driven career woman. But Jessie had seen glimmers of warmth. A spark of affection for all of her staff members.
With a deep sigh, Jessie closed her eyes and tried to picture what Fin would look like the moment that she’d learned the truth.
But all she saw was icy gray eyes looking at her like she was a criminal. And he wouldn’t let her explain! He just denounced her.
The only mistake I made was falling for you.
The pain seared through her again, almost unbearable in its intensity. She could never, ever forget that he was willing to write her off and able to fire her without even listening to an explanation.
After all her character assessment and people watching, she’d trusted the wrong Charisma executive. Cade was the one who put work before relationships. Not Fin. Cade was the one she should have avoided. Not Fin. Cade was the one who turned her away.
And Fin?
She glanced at her watch. Fin should be back by now.
Steeling herself with one long inhale of the sweet and earthy smell of Central Park, Jessie pushed herself off the rock and started to walk toward the bustling traffic of Manhattan.
But this time, she never hesitated at a single street corner.
She was no longer scared of New York.
Cade slumped in the guest chair across from Fin, still holding the broken glasses in his hand.
“Stop punishing yourself,” Fin said sharply as she shrugged out of her business jacket, down to a black tank top. “You aren’t the first man to get bamboozled by a woman with an agenda and you won’t be the last.”
He snorted and let a sharp piece of plastic dig into his palm. “I wasn’t bamboozled, Fin.”
She just raised an eyebrow. “Can we agree that you weren’t thinking with your brain?”
“I wish it were that simple.”
Fin regarded him closely. “Are you saying you really cared about her?”
“Yes, I’m saying that. I did.”
“Well,” Fin acknowledged, “she is a dear girl. I mean, in just a week, she’d totally grown on me.”
Cade shot her an “I told you so” look. “She’s good, isn’t she? And then, she marched out of here threatening that I hadn’t heard the last of her.”
“What exactly did she say?” Fin asked. “It seems so out of character for her to make threats.”
“Who knows what her character is? She just told me, ‘You have no idea who you fell for.’” At Fin’s frown, he shifted in his seat. “I told her I was sorry I fell for her.”
“That was a lousy thing for you to say.”
“Fin! She was digging through your files, reading confidential financial information, for God’s sake. What do you want me to say? ‘Gee, you look cute over there spying for the competition. Can I help you find anything in particular?’”
Fin glanced at the credenza thoughtfully. “Which drawer was she in?”
He vaguely indicated the right side. “Financials. But she went through the payroll stuff, too. I watched. I just couldn’t believe it.” He shook his head, reliving the moment that he’d frozen in the doorway, having heard her voice on the phone. He knew now that she’d been talking to Fin.
Fin’s attention remained riveted on the offending file cabinet.
“And speaking of the competition,” Cade added dryly, “I totally forgot the best part of this banner day.”
“What?”
“The Buzz is ahead.”
“Excuse me?” He had her full attention now. “How do you know that?”
“Liam…well, Liam didn’t exactly tell me. But I saw Shane in the cafeteria and you couldn’t wash away the smirk from his face with a fire hose. Liam didn’t confirm or deny, but he said the numbers didn’t lie.”
Fin fell back into her chair with disgust. “We can’t lose, Cade.”
�
�I know. Maybe your twin brother is the one who hired our spy.”
She shook her head. “Not Shane. And I just don’t see Michael or Cullen stooping to that level.”
“Something Daniel might have done before he and Amanda decided to leave and start an adventure magazine? Maybe when Cullen took over Snap, Michael forgot to tell him he’d sent a spy?”
Fin shook her head.
“Gannon?” Michael’s son and right-hand man held the same position as Cade for Pulse magazine, executive editor.
“I doubt it. Marriage to Erika has mellowed him.”
An unfamiliar pang of jealousy pinched his gut. “Happiness doesn’t erase anyone’s determination to win the contest.”
“I can’t believe Shane’s winning,” Fin said absently.
“Hey, he’s your twin brother, Fin. All that competitive DNA runs in both your veins.”
“It runs in the whole family,” she said. “That’s why I can’t completely negate your theory that Jessie Clayton was hired as a spy.”
“Fact, not theory.” Cade pushed himself out of the chair and scooped up the wilted flowers along with the broken glasses. He held them over the desk. “Throw these away for me, will you?”
She took them, looking at the flowers with a bittersweet smile of sympathy. “I had no idea you were so romantic, Cade.”
“So stupid, more like.”
“You’re not stupid, Cade. She just turned out to be a better actress than any of us gave her credit for.”
He pointed to the glasses. “She even wore her own disguise.”
Fin stared at the twisted frames, thinking. “I wonder why she wanted to hide.”
“Because she was a farce from beginning to end. A phony. A liar.”
Dropping the glasses in the trash, Fin gave him a sincere look. “Don’t let love make you bitter, Cade.”
“Love?” He spat the word. “That was a long way from love. I only went after her in the first place because I was so suspicious of her.”
“Really? Well, that plan backfired, didn’t it?” Fin offered a wry smile.
“Yep. All I wanted was to know why she was avoiding you. I should have pressed her more on it.”
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 40