“No,” he admitted. “But you’re very talented. You’re funny. And our readers love your columns. I’m guessing you could find something else to write about. Life in Manhattan. Interviews with other admins. Anything you want.”
She thought about it for a long moment and Shane found himself wishing to hell he could read her mind, since nothing of what she was feeling was visible on her features.
“Well?” he prodded, anxious for her answer.
“Tempting,” she admitted, backing up again. “But no. Thanks for the offer, but I’m leaving The Buzz, Shane.”
Speaking up quickly, he offered her more money. Up to twice her present salary. Her eyes popped, but still she shook her head.
“It’s not about the money and it’s insulting to me that you’re acting as though it is.”
“You want to talk insulted?” he countered hotly. “You’ve made me a laughingstock all over New York for the last year.”
Her lips thinned into a grim slash. “If you hadn’t behaved like an idiot, I wouldn’t have had so much ammunition.”
“Oh, that’s perfect.”
“Look, Shane,” she said, making a heroic attempt at controlling her temper. “You have the CEO position you wanted, but I can’t be around you anymore. I just can’t do it.”
Disappointment gathered in his chest, warred with anger and tightened until he could hardly draw a breath. “Because of what happened between us.”
“Partly,” she said, nodding. “We can’t just go back to our old working relationship, Shane. We can’t pretend we didn’t…”
Hell no, he couldn’t pretend nothing had happened between them. Every waking minute she was there, in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Felt her. Tasted her. She haunted him and he knew that even if she left, her memory would stay with him. Always.
“So let’s just leave things as they are and part friends, all right?”
His gaze locked with hers, he tried to find some way to change her mind. To make her stay. He knew damn well that without her, he might never have won the competition with his siblings.
And he couldn’t imagine trying to run all of EPH without Rachel’s advice and common sense and humor. Damn it, she couldn’t just walk out.
But she did.
She left him standing there staring at her back as she walked away.
The next couple of days, Rachel buried herself in the preparations for the big charity event that EPH sponsored every year. The rich, the famous and the infamous would gather in the ballroom atop the Waldorf-Astoria and donate enough money to keep several children’s shelters running for a year.
She already had the flowers arranged for and the caterers and band. Then she spent half the morning on the phone with security experts, lining up the extra guards they’d need on the doors. Running her finger down her list, she made several check marks and only frowned once.
Santa.
She still needed a Santa.
The one she’d used the year before was already booked and she couldn’t hire just anyone to hand out gifts to children. Flipping through the phone book, she looked up several numbers for casting agents in the city. Somehow or other, she’d find the perfect Santa.
Her last job for EPH was going to come off perfectly even if she had to work herself to death to make sure of it.
When her phone rang, she reached for it automatically. “Shane Elliott’s office.”
“Ms. Adler?”
“Yes.” Frowning, she sat back in her chair.
“This is Dylan Hightower at Cherish magazine.”
“Oh.” She straightened. Cherish was a celebrity homestyle magazine she’d applied to just last week. Good news. When she left EPH, she wanted to be able to go right into a new job.
“I wanted to call you and explain why we’re unable to offer you a position.”
She blinked, stunned. She was perfect for the job of executive assistant to the editor-in-chief. Her computer skills were excellent, matched by her organizational abilities and her work ethic. “I see.”
“No, I don’t believe you do,” Hightower said abruptly. “And frankly, I’m only calling to warn you that publishing is a very small business. Liars don’t go undiscovered for long.”
“I’m sorry?” Her stomach was spinning.
“You should apologize for wasting my time, Ms. Adler. I checked with your references and I have to say I was shocked when Shane Elliott told me the real story behind your leaving your present position.”
“He did.” Temper boiled and bubbled in the pit of her stomach and she was forced to take deep, even breaths to steady herself out. “What exactly did Mr. Elliott have to say, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all. He informed me that you were quite possibly the worst assistant he’s ever had. And the fact that you’re not a team player and actually go out of your way to foment dissension in the ranks…” He paused for breath. “Let me just say that your reputation is less than stellar.”
The edges of her vision went a blurry red. She could hardly speak she was so furious and it took all she had not to slam the phone down on Mr. Fabulous Hightower.
“I understand,” she finally managed to say.
“I hope you do,” he retorted and hung up.
Still clutching the phone, while a dial tone buzzed in her ear, Rachel shifted a look at Shane’s closed door. Inhaling sharply, she slapped the phone into its cradle and stomped across the floor toward it. She didn’t bother to knock, just shoved it open, slammed it shut behind her and advanced on her boss with blood in her eye.
“Rachel?”
“How dare you?” She slapped both hands on his desk and leaned in toward him. “How dare you submarine my chances at a new job.”
“Now wait a—”
“Mr. Hightower just called to explain personally why he wouldn’t be hiring me.”
Shane’s gaze snapped to one side and he scrubbed one hand across his face. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
He looked at her again, but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Now, Rachel—”
“I can’t believe you did that, Shane. My God, are you really that petty?”
He jumped to his feet. The cityscape stretched out behind him, snow falling softly against the windows, blurring the edges of his silhouette. The silence in the office was profound.
“It wasn’t that. It was—”
“What, Shane? What could possibly have been the motivator for you to tell people lies about me?” She pushed up from the desk, folded her arms across her chest and tapped the toe of her shoe against the carpet. “Four years I’ve worked for you and in all that time have I ever screwed up?”
“No.”
“Fomented dissension in the ranks?”
“No.”
“Then why?” she asked, shaking her head and looking at him like she’d never seen him before. And indeed, this side of Shane was a mystery to her. Never before had she seen him so embarrassed. Ashamed.
He blew out a breath, shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I thought if I could slow down your job search you might change your mind about leaving.”
“By lying about me. Amazing.”
“A bad idea. I see that now.”
“Well, congratulations,” she snapped. “A breakthrough. You’re finally willing to admit that not everything in the known universe is about Shane Elliott. Other people have their little lives and problems, too.”
“Rachel, I’m sorry, I—”
“Forget it,” she said, stepping back from his desk but keeping her eyes on him, as if expecting him to stab her in the back again. “It’s a lesson learned, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll grow from the experience.”
“Damn it…”
“You can have personnel send me my last check, Shane. I’m leaving now.”
“You can’t. You gave me two weeks notice.”
She’d reached the door. Snaking her arm behind her, she turned the k
nob and pulled it open. “If you can lie,” she said quietly, “then so can I. Goodbye, Shane.”
Eleven
The dining room at The Tides, the Elliott family home, was elegant but warm. Deep burgundy walls, with cream colored trim and crown moldings gave it an old-world feeling. A polished to perfection walnut table that could easily sit twelve stood on a thick Oriental carpet. Original oil paintings dotted the walls and a hand carved buffet sat against the far wall.
When Patrick and Maeve Elliott hosted dinner parties, this room sparkled with fine crystal and fragile china. But Shane remembered all the years growing up in this house and he could almost hear the memory of his brothers’ and sister’s voices echoing off the walls.
The estate was palatial—seven thousand square feet of turn-of-the-century home, surrounded by five acres of meticulously cared for grounds, situated on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Long Island. And though the house could be intimidating to visitors, to the Elliott children it had simply been home. And a great place for spur-of-the-moment games of hide-and-seek.
The roar and hush of the nearby sea pulsed in the background, almost making the old house seem alive. Shane loved this house. But at the moment, he wished he were anywhere but there.
“Your Rachel is certainly a lovely girl,” Maeve said, taking a tiny sip of white wine.
Shane snapped his mother a warning look. “She’s not my Rachel and yes, she is.”
“I sensed a bit of—”
“Mom.”
He should have tried to get out of dinner tonight. But to do that, he’d have had to come up with a damn good explanation and at the moment, Shane just wasn’t up to it.
Hell, even he couldn’t believe how he’d sabotaged Rachel’s attempts to leave EPH. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Downplay her abilities, make her seem a little less employable and maybe she’d stay with him.
He hadn’t meant to—Damn. Yes, he had. He had meant to screw things up for her. So what did that make him? A bastard? Or a desperate bastard?
Either way, he’d lost her.
She’d gathered up her things and walked out of the building right after leaving his office. And for the rest of the day, walking past her empty desk drove needles of guilt into his skull, making his head ache and his temper spike.
He could still see the expression on her face when she’d faced him down just a few hours ago. Shock, betrayal, fury. If he could have, he would have kicked his own ass. He never should have given into the temptation to sabotage her job search.
His own fault. He’d let Rachel become too important to him over the years. She’d become such a part of his day, he could barely imagine not having her there.
That thought irritated him more than a little and he scowled to himself.
“Fine, fine,” Maeve said, having another sip before setting her glass down on the linen draped table. “Far be it from me to interfere in my children’s lives.”
Shane snorted a laugh and his mother’s eyes narrowed on him.
“Well,” she pointed out, “if you and your brothers and sisters would talk to me about what’s bothering you, I wouldn’t have to pry now would I?”
“Ah, so it’s our fault.”
“Darlin’,” she said, a soft smile still curving her mouth, “I can plainly see that there’s something bothering you. Won’t you tell me?”
For a moment or two, he considered it. Just unloading on his mom. Then he thought about how Maeve would react when she discovered what he’d done to Rachel and thought better of it.
“I spoke to Rachel this afternoon,” his mother said into the silence.
“Really? About what?”
“The charity ball,” Maeve reminded him. “She wanted to say that despite the fact she no longer worked for you, she would continue to oversee the preparations.”
“Ah.” Of course she’d do that. Rachel was the most responsible human being he’d ever known. She took her duties seriously and once she’d given herself up to a project, she never quit.
Not even when she had more than enough reason to.
“Idiot,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to ease the headache pounding behind them.
“Aye,” Maeve said, the Irish accent she’d never quite lost dancing in her tone, “apparently you are, dear. Would you like to explain to me why you’ve fired that lovely girl?”
“I didn’t fire her.”
“She quit?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He slanted Maeve a look and wished he hadn’t. He was thirty-eight years old, the newly crowned head of a Fortune 500 company and one steely glare from his mother could completely cow him.
Thankfully he was saved by an interruption.
“What’re you two talking about?” Patrick asked as he walked into the room, heels clicking on the marble floor, and took the chair at the head of the table.
“Not a thing, my love,” Maeve said, patting his hand. But the look she sent Shane told him that this wasn’t over.
“Hmm.” Patrick wasn’t convinced, but he was willing to let it go. Focusing his gaze on Shane, he asked, “Before dinner arrives, why don’t you tell me what your plans are for the company?”
“Patrick,” his wife said, “can’t we have a single meal without discussing business?”
“No,” Shane said quickly, eager to talk about anything but Rachel. If he could keep his mother’s mind off of that subject, he just might be able to get through dinner and escape before she could corner him again. “It’s fine. Actually I’d like to get Dad’s opinion on a few things.”
Maeve picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, focusing her gaze on her son. Shane pretended he didn’t feel that hot stare and concentrated instead on his father.
The next week was a blur of activity.
Even though Rachel was now officially unemployed, she was busier than ever, coordinating the charity function. Keeping in touch with the event planner at the Waldorf, Rachel had her finger on every hot button.
Nothing was getting past her; she wouldn’t allow it. If this was going to be her final task for EPH, it was going to be one that people would be talking about for years. She’d arranged for a ten-foot pine tree to be delivered and professionally decorated. There would be a champagne fountain, a chocolate bar and enough hors d’oeuvres to keep even the most famished guest satisfied.
Every table at the event would boast its own tiny tree, complete with twinkling lights, and garlands of holly and mistletoe would be wound around the perimeter of the elegant room.
This ball was going to be organized smoother than a military coup. There wouldn’t be a single hiccup.
She took a bite of her maple scone and shifted a look out through the window of the coffeehouse at the street beyond. Dark clouds hovered over the city as if waiting for just the right moment to dump another few inches of snow on the already slushy streets. People were bundled up, colorful scarves wound tightly around their mouths and necks. And the wind whipped down the high-rise canyons, snatching up trash and twirling it through the air.
Made her cold just looking out at it. So she turned back to the paperwork spread out over the table in front of her and got back down to the business of running a charity event.
Her cell phone rang and Rachel rummaged in her oversized purse for it. A perky little tune played louder as she grabbed it, and a few of the patrons in the coffeehouse glared at her. “Hello?”
“Honey, how’s it going?” Christina’s voice came across in whispered concern.
Rachel leaned back in her chair, picked up her latte and took a drink. She’d only spoken to her friend once since leaving EPH and Rachel had really missed her. “It’s going great.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really.” She put every ounce of conviction she possessed into her voice, but clearly it wasn’t enough to convince Christina.
“Oh sure, I believe you.”
“Fine,” Rachel muttered, shooting a glare
at a bearded man hunched over his laptop. What was up with him? He was allowed to type and clatter but she couldn’t have a conversation? Honestly, some people.
Focusing on her friend, Rachel said, “I’m working myself to death to keep from thinking about Shane.”
“That’s what I figured. So if you’re still so nuts about him, why’d you quit?”
“What other choice did I have?” she demanded a little too loudly and glared right back at the Beard. Lowering her voice, she said, “I couldn’t stay there after—”
God, she couldn’t even think about those nights with Shane. It was hard enough to lie there in her bed and remember him lying alongside her. To imagine the hush of his breath, the sweep of his hands on her body, the taste of his mouth on hers.
She took a gulp of hot coffee and burned her mouth. Good. Nice distraction.
“Okay,” Christina said, “sex with the boss would make things a little…sticky.”
“Yeah, just a touch. But it’s more than that, too.”
“You mean it’s because you love him?”
Rachel winced. “Oh God. Yes. I do. And it’s hopeless and pitiful and ridiculous and all of the above at once.” She shook her head and trailed the tip of her index finger around the circumference of her coffee cup lid. “He’s never going to see me like that. Never going to love me back. How could I stay there?”
“I guess you couldn’t,” Christina said on a sigh. “But I really miss you around here.”
“Miss you, too. Heck, I miss my job. I was good at it, you know?”
“I know.” There was a long pause and then Christina lowered her voice so much Rachel could scarcely hear her. “Would it help to know that since you’ve been gone, Shane’s been miserable?”
Instantly Rachel cheered right up. “Really? His new admin isn’t working out?”
“Doesn’t have one.”
“No way.” Surprise made her voice a little louder again and this time Beard actually lifted his index finger to his mouth and warned, “Shhh.” Rachel sneered at him.
Shane hadn’t hired someone to take her place? Why not? She’d been gone a week. And heaven knew the man couldn’t keep track of his own appointment schedule. He needed someone highly organized or he’d never get anything done. And that thought brought a small smile to her face.
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 81