Desperate Measures

by Linda Cajio

Joe nodded.

  After Jamie had left the office by the private door, Joe stood for a moment, then shook his head at Jamie’s foolishness. He crossed the oriental rug and opened the door to his secretary’s office. At the sight of Ellen’s smile, he set aside the thought of a confrontation with Mario. Once she was in his office, the door safely shut against curious eyes, he pulled her into his arms for a hungry kiss.

  “You certainly know how to say ‘hello,’ ” she said, breathless when he finally let her go.

  “Glad you like it,” he murmured, smoothing his hands down her back. He loved the feel of her skin under the mint green silk dress. And he loved the dress. Her skin was glowing. “I was almost afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  “I was almost afraid I wouldn’t either,” she admitted.

  “I would have come after you.”

  “That’s what I figured.” She smiled, then frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  He dropped his hands away. “How did you know?”

  “You look pressured.”

  He told her about Jamie’s resignation, his anger returning.

  “I should have fired Mario long ago,” he finished, slicing the air with one hand. “It’s gone too far now.”

  “Maybe we should postpone our lunch,” she suggested.

  “No,” he said, forcing himself to calm down. “I’m just sorry we have to have it here.”

  “No, we don’t,” she said eagerly. “There’s a Burger King just down the road.”

  He chuckled. “Ellen! You, at a fast-food restaurant? Somebody better call the society columnists.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re a snob, Joe?” she asked, herding him out the door.

  Eventually Joe found himself sitting at an orange laminate table looking across at a former princess.

  “I bet Prince Charles doesn’t chow down on a whopper,” he said, as he watched Ellen do exactly that.

  She grinned at him. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  “I love you, Ell.”

  She set the burger down and gazed at him, her eyes brimming with warmth. “I never thought I would hear those words in a Burger King. Watch you don’t get mayonnaise on your tie.”

  “Yes, my love. By the way, thanks for paying.”

  “I figured I better. You had a free meal planned, Mr. Last of the Big-Time Spenders.”

  He needed this, he thought. He wondered if she had any idea how she affected him. She was a well in which he would always find renewal. The image of her in the cabana ran through his head, and he pushed it away. He couldn’t afford to torture himself. Right after lunch, he would solve the Mario problem for good, then the company would be back to normal and he could concentrate on wooing Ellen. Everything was finally coming together for him. And for her.

  But the easiness of lunch was lost the moment they returned to Carlini Foods. Mario was pulling into his parking space, just as Ellen maneuvered her car into one of the spaces reserved for visitors.

  Joe’s anger returned twofold, and he scrambled out of Ellen’s car as she braked to a halt. He’d have it out with Mario right here. He hated the thought of the traitor setting foot in the building again.

  “Stay here, Ell,” he said. Then he strode across the lot, catching Mario as the latter climbed out of his car.

  “You just resigned from the company,” Joe informed him, grabbing hold of the Corvette’s door before it swung shut. He opened it wider. “Get back in the car and get out.”

  Mario’s mouth opened in astonishment. “What?”

  “You’re resigning from Carlini Foods,” Joe repeated. “I won’t tolerate your presence in the building again. Now get out.”

  “Why would I resign?” Mario asked, his brows drawing together in puzzlement.

  “For trying to sell out the company.” Joe stared him down until Mario broke eye contact.

  “You have no proof of that.”

  Joe smiled grimly. “Let’s just say you better start worrying if your voice was recognized. Jamie’s no longer a candidate for future blackmail tactics, and you are no longer employed by this company. It’s over, Mario. I don’t care what you say officially, but you’re out. Now.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  But Mario’s eyes had narrowed and his lips had thinned the moment Joe had mentioned Jamie’s name. The expression of frustration was unmistakable.

  “Liar,” Joe said softly. “Take the chance I’m offering you, cousin. You’ve made too many mistakes already. You tried to sell out your own relatives.”

  “You don’t have any proof. You won’t get it past the family—”

  “Don’t bet the farm on that, pal. If you fight me on this, your betrayal will come out. Thomas, Carol, and Jamie can back me. And Ellen witnessed your little chat with the man at the rink. What company is he from?”

  No answer.

  “The circumstantial evidence is building up against you,” Joe went on. “Enough to make most people very suspicious of your actions lately. I’ve kept this contained so far among the parties involved. You can save your own and your parents’ dignity at least with the resignation—”

  “I’ll take you down, Joe,” Mario snarled.

  Joe stared at him coolly, unimpressed by the threat. “You’re like a little kid who’s just had his toy taken away from him. The recipe’s a lost cause. It always has been. Your verbal resignation is effective immediately. I want your written resignation delivered to my office before the day is out. I’ll be cleaning out your desk personally, and I’ll have your things sent to you. You can’t do anything else and you know it.”

  Mario stared at him, his eyes filled with hatred. His jaws were clamped so tightly together, Joe wondered if they would shatter. Finally, Mario climbed back into the car. Joe slammed the door shut behind him. He watched as Mario brought the engine to screaming life, then backed the sports car out of the slot, the back tires squealing from abuse. The brakes screeched once again, then the car roared out of the lot.

  Joe took a deep breath and relaxed. It was done. He hoped Mario would just cut his losses and give some innocuous reason for leaving the company. The man had enough pride to do that rather than risk showing his stupidity to others. At least he hadn’t taken one last bite, Joe thought, remembering Jamie’s warning. He’d been more worried about that than he cared to admit.

  Ellen was walking across the lot, and he walked toward her. They met in the middle.

  “Your cousin took the rest of the afternoon off, I see,” she said, concern in her blue-green eyes. “Permanently?”

  Joe nodded. He put his arm around her and pulled her close to his side.

  “Will he cause trouble over this?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t see him exposing his pride to a possible downfall. The stunt with the spice suppliers and now Jamie’s blackmail were two big mistakes on his part. He’d have to do some very fast talking to make his actions sound innocent at this point.” He was surprised that his cousin had gone with so little fight. It made him wonder what he would find in Mario’s desk.

  “I think I’ll miss playing I Spy with Mario and the mysterious stranger,” she said, leaning lightly against him.

  He chuckled. “If you behave yourself, I’ll take you back to Atlantic City this weekend.”

  Her breasts were pressed against his side, her hips touching his flank. He could almost trace her torso with his own. Her long legs brushed along his. His blood heated at the unconscious caress of feminine curves. He had been joking, of course, but now the idea sounded better and better.

  “I’ve always had a fondness for Atlantic City,” she murmured.

  “Maybe,” he whispered, leaning over and nibbling her ear, “I’ll take you now.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t.” She smiled and stepped away. “One of us better be sensible.”

  “Ell …” he began, walking toward her.

  “Go back to work, Joe.”

  “I hate sensible,” he m
uttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  She laughed. “Go to work.”

  “See you tonight?”

  “My grandmother wouldn’t have it any other way. Come for dinner.”

  He grinned.

  Finally, life was on track.

  Eleven

  “It’s a shame we can’t go swimming.”

  From their balcony vantage point high above the beach, Ellen looked out over the ocean and sighed. She hadn’t realized how much she had been anticipating Joe’s promised weekend in Atlantic City. Even though the sun shone brightly over the resort, the temperature was still too cool for a dip in the water. That was the only disappointment.

  Hands grasped her shoulders and spun her around into a devastating kiss. She was amused for a moment, then the feel of his mouth locked to hers overtook her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gladly mated her tongue with his.

  “Remind me to kiss you like that when we’re on the boardwalk,” Joe said after he finally lifted his head. “I owe you one.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded anyway. She was not about to pass up another kiss like that.

  She slipped out of his arms and went back into the luxurious bedroom. “You didn’t tell me you rented a beachfront condo in Atlantic City.”

  “That’s because I bought it.”

  She whirled around in astonishment, and he grinned at her.

  “It’s amazing what you can buy on a moment’s notice,” he added. “This place is completely furnished, with all the amenities of a hotel. Now we can come here any time we want to play I Spy.”

  “You’re getting kinky in your old age,” she said, shaking her head and turning back into the bedroom, intent on unpacking her bag.

  Instead, she found herself being tossed on the bed. Joe came down on top of her.

  “I’ll show you old age.”

  “Don’t forget the kinky.”

  “Right.”

  Later, she lay in his arms, lazy with satisfaction. She didn’t want to know what the future held. She was content just to be here like this with Joe. Her mind, however, dredged up the memory of his mother and aunts glaring at her. She forced it away, not wanting anything to intrude on the moment. It returned, and she shifted restlessly away from Joe.

  “Watch where you’re putting that knee,” he said in a high, piping voice.

  Realizing how close she had come to unmanning him, she flushed, then giggled. “Sorry.”

  “That’s better. Where were you going anyway?” he asked.

  “Nowhere, really. I was just getting more comfortable.” She settled back down against him, pulling the sheet up over their bodies.

  “I think we’ll spend the weekend here,” he said, stroking her arm.

  She thought about the three disapproving faces. They might not like her, but she’d be a fool to give up Joe without a fight. Determination flooded through her. She wouldn’t worry until she had good reason to, she decided.

  “I think I like that idea.”

  He rolled on top of her and smiled wolfishly. “Sex maniac.”

  She pressed her thighs to his. “Looks like my knee missed by a wide margin.”

  “Thank your lucky stars.”

  She burst into laughter at the drop in his voice.

  He nuzzled her ear, then said, “Will you stop laughing so we can make love?”

  She abruptly sobered, although one last giggle escaped her lips.

  “That’s better.”

  He leaned down to kiss her when the telephone rang.

  “What the …” He sat up as it rang again. “I knew I should have waited to have the phone installed.”

  “That’s what you get for being a conscientious company executive,” she said, rolling onto her side. The muscles of his back intrigued her, and she began to trace them with her fingers.

  “The entire plant had better be exploding,” he said, snatching the receiver.

  Ellen frowned as Joe’s voice went from anger to frustration to restrained rage. She couldn’t tell what the problem was from his clipped answers, but she knew it was serious. Leaving off her play, she sat up next to him and wound the sheet across her body.

  Joe didn’t crash the receiver down. Instead, his movements were deliberate, almost slow. Ellen held her breath, realizing he was so angry he was afraid to express it.

  “I’m sorry, Ell,” he finally said, his expression stony. “That was my father. An emergency meeting of the board of Carlini Foods has been called for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “This is about your firing Mario, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, and she put her arms around him. “You did the right thing, Joe.”

  “I know.” He held her tightly. “Much as I was hoping to, I didn’t think I’d avoid this. Mario’s taking quite a chance with his pride.”

  “We’ll go back now,” she said. “That will give you time to prepare.”

  “I’ll need you tomorrow.”

  Part of her wanted to refuse. She hated confrontations, and this would clearly be a family one.

  “Of course,” she said, overcoming her reluctance. Joe needed her.

  Less than twenty-four hours later, she was wishing she’d heeded her common sense. She never felt more like an intruder as she listened to the wrangling among the family members in the conference room at the Carlini Foods executive offices.

  Worse, she’d been accompanied by her grandmother. Lettice, when she had been told why her granddaughter had returned and where she was going, had insisted on coming too. No amount of logic, pleading, or shouting had moved the woman from her stance of “You need moral support, my dear. You, too, Joseph.” Lettice had bullied her way into the company boardroom, protests glared down by the “regal eye.” Even Joe’s mother had been cowed. Both Ellen and her grandmother were now seated near the door, away from the table.

  Support was one thing, Ellen thought as she glanced at her grandmother, who was avidly leaning forward to catch every word. Gleeful enjoyment was quite another. She sighed. Her grandmother was outrageous sometimes.

  Ellen shifted in her chair, again resisting the urge to bolt. Joe had already explained his reasons for firing Mario, with Thomas, Carol, and Jamie backing him. Joe’s father was the chairman, and he had held the meeting in tight rein. The thirteen board members were clearly torn. Their reactions ranged from suspicion, to disbelief, to tears. Ellen understood now why Joe had been so adamant about proof against his cousin. Mario, so far, hadn’t said a word. His face was blank of all expression. That worried her.

  “… as you can see, I had no choice in the matter,” Joe said, finishing his side of the story. “I felt a resignation was the only way to keep the recipe safe. Had Mario not been a family member I would have fired him at first suspicion. I felt I must give him every chance. I’m sorry, Aunt Mary, Uncle Michael. I wish you never had to hear this.”

  “But Mario would never sell out the family!” Mario’s mother wailed. Mario’s father was grimfaced.

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” Mario said smoothly. “It’s true that I’ve run up a few debts—”

  Many of the others grumbled their disagreement.

  “More than a few,” Mario conceded. “And my parents have cut off further funding. The family knows all this. But the idea that I would sell the recipe is ridiculous. I took Uncle Thomas to the Sinatra show because I wanted to pay him back for helping me with my department figures for the last quarter.”

  “I …” Thomas frowned. “I did go over them with the boy, that’s true.”

  “That’s why I took Thomas and not my mother.” Mario grinned. “Sorry, Mom. As for Carol, I only offered to help her, knowing she has her hands full with the new baby. Anyone would do that, wouldn’t they? I don’t know anything about Jamie’s anonymous phone call, but I feel bad for him. I’m sorry about the mix-up with the spicers. I had only wanted to try something new that might save the company some money.…”

  He spoke very convincing
ly, and Ellen had a bad feeling that the majority of the stockholders might be swayed to Mario’s side. Mario had a little smirk of tolerance every time he looked at Joe, as if he seemed to recognize the same thing. How Joe held his temper, she didn’t know.

  “If that boy is the angel he makes himself out to be,” Lettice whispered to Ellen, “then I have a bridge to sell these people.”

  “Shh!” Ellen glared at her grandmother. Unfortunately, Lettice was probably right.

  “… I think maybe Joe has been working too hard,” Mario continued. “He’s been under a lot of pressure lately—”

  “You haven’t explained why you were at the skating rink that morning,” Joe interrupted, his voice surprisingly calm. “I’ve already explained how I picked up one of the phones in the plant and overheard a meeting being set up over the sale of the recipe for Mama’s Homestyle, how you were the one I followed to the rink, and how Ellen witnessed you talking with a man. You’re conveniently skipping over that part.”

  Mario looked pained. He glanced down at the table and rubbed his finger back and forth along its dark, highly polished surface. Finally he raised his head.

  “I was trying to avoid this, but I see I have no choice.” He straightened in his chair. “I was approached anonymously to sell the recipe.”

  Family members gasped.

  “I, of course, would never do such a thing—”

  Lettice gave an unladylike snort. Ellen silently agreed.

  “—but I thought it best to discover what company was behind that offer and stop it before they could approach anyone else. So I pretended to be interested and agreed to meet the contact person at the rink.” Mario shook his head. “But no one approached me there. Ellen was … mistaken, shall we say.”

  Ellen’s stomach rolled with a strange tension.

  Mario’s solemnity increased. “After I was fired, I did a little checking around. I thought the other side figured out I was a ringer and that’s why they didn’t show. Now I think their contact person at the rink recognized Joe and saw a bigger and better opportunity to get the recipe. Someone else in this room was at the rink that day.”

  Everyone in the room gasped again in shock. Ellen froze in horror.

  “… someone whose own father owns substantial shares in a certain food conglomerate from Battle Creek, Michigan. Someone who’s been trying to romance her way to the recipe.”