by Lia Davis
He gave me a smile that could have melted steel. I couldn’t help myself. I smiled back at him until he let go of my thigh and the innocent desertion iced me to the core. “You can keep the trophy and the gift card.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Thanks, but what do you get?”
I wanted him to say “You” so badly and I had no idea why. My standard dating rule was three dates before getting physical. Had there been the occasional time I’d broken the rule? Yes, once, and only then because I’d had a virtual relationship with the guy for two months prior to meeting with him in person.
He reached out and used his index finger to hook the side of my hair behind my ear. “The pleasure of your company.” We stared at each other and I thought he’d kiss me. I really did, but then he broke the intimate tension rapidly swelling between us when he added, “Oh, and another bonus? They’re paying the tab I intended to cover.”
Once the excitement of the challenge died down and the crowd noticeable thinned, we had a chance to talk. Really talk about substantive stuff. Everything from work to childhood phobias. I thought it was interesting he steered clear of mentioning Tramaine, or the information I’d shared the other morning about my work being stolen.
In a way I was glad he didn’t bring it up. Keith continually managed to ruin the good things in my life and right now I was thinking this time with Ty was a good thing. In fact by the time we left and he walked me to my car, I was convinced he was too good to be true. He hadn’t been an asshole once tonight. That kind of anomaly got me to thinking.
We stopped by my car and I pressed the fob. After I heard the two successive beeps as it unlocked, I looked up at him. “So tell me, Mr. Ellington. How is it that you’re not married?”
He reached out and fixed my collar. The action startled me because it was intimate but not in a sexual way. “No one’s asked me.”
A tease, that’s what he was. “Careful.” I wagged my finger at him, ready to tease right back. “I love a challenge. Meaning that your bachelorhood could be a thing of the past if I set my mind to it.”
Yes, I did it. I conjured up the instinctive male fear of the altar. I was confident it would scare whatever skeletons he was hiding in the closet into coming out to meet me.
Oddly none appeared.
“Wesley.” He didn’t literally move closer to me in proximity, but it sure did feel like he had. I was warmer all of a sudden and when I heard the huskiness of his tone, I was completely captured. “I wouldn’t look at it as a challenge and, believe me, bachelorhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
I crossed my arms over my chest to let him know I didn’t believe him. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” he grinned and drew the back of his knuckles down the side of my arm. “It’s a lonely existence.”
Okay, that’s it. I had to call bullshit. I dropped my arms to my sides and then changed my mind about the stance, when I used both hands, palms flat against his chest and playfully pushed him. “You are a big fat fibber. Women are probably beating a path to your door to...to...well you know. Lonely.” I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
Not that he’d lost any ground from my antics, but he moved closer. Closer than he had been before. “You’re far too young to be so cynical.”
I narrowed a look up at him. “No I’m not.”
He wasn’t smiling as he studied me. I got the feeling he was stalling for time, trying to figure out what to say. Had I rattled him?
“And I’m far too old to fall in line with a stereotype. It’s true what you say. I could spend time with a different woman every night if I wanted to, but the point is that I don’t. I’ve lived long enough to know that I’d rather spend one perfect night with a woman I’d never forget, than a year of casual encounters with women I’d have trouble ever remembering.”
If I weren’t falling for him at the moment I would have told him how great that little speech was, but being that I was currently crushing on him in a very big way, I figured it was best to keep that to myself and get in the car before I embarrassed both of us. Right here on the sidewalk. “Makes sense. I should really get going.”
He stepped back and then turned to open the driver side door for me.
As I got in I thanked him and was just about to close the door when he stopped the action. “Hang on.”
“Yes?” My heart pounded in my chest because he leaned down. Halfway into the car, with his face mere inches from mine, and for the second time tonight I thought he’d kiss me. I wanted him to. So badly that my eyes began to flutter to close until he tapped something against my nose. The playful touch pulled me out of my wanna get biblical with him mode.
“I don’t want you to forget this.”
It took me a second to focus on what he held up. A coaster? Geez. But then as I stared at it in his big hand, I remembered what I’d said in the bar. That’s when a hardened part of me, one of the relationship calluses leftover from Keith’s rotten handiwork, began to soften. “Thanks.”
“Drive safe.”
He slammed the door.
I started the car.
He waved and I drove off.
He never mentioned seeing me again and I never asked.
Damn.
***
Sandy
I walked into the small office building and had a look around. It appeared professional enough. No extraneous frills. A sleekly decorated reception area with nice graphics on the wall, a low-pile carpet on the floor, and a water cooler that looked to be bone-dry. That was my first clue that the business was in possible decline. My second? No receptionist.
I stalked to the high desk and looked for a bell or something.
“And you better spill some of the details because I’ve been...”
The young woman who arrived at the desk, and finally looked up to see me, nearly dropped the papers she was holding. “I know who you are.”
I was glad about that. It would save having to introduce myself. “Is Ms. Henderson in?”
“She is.” She dropped the pile of pages she’d been clutching onto the desk. “Yes. Yup. May I tell her who’s calling?”
I lifted a brow and stared at her.
“I mean, Mr. Tramaine, can I tell her you’re here?”
“Is she in her office? She’s expecting me.” There was only one room that had a light on beyond the reception desk so I headed right for it. The receptionist quickly scooted in front of me half walking, half trotting to keep ahead of the pace I set.
“My name is Lisa, and if you tell me the purpose of your visit I’ll let Ms. Henderson know. She’s very, very, busy this...ah...morning.”
She sure was.
The boss was sitting in her office chair with her feet up on the corner of her desk. She had ear buds in her ears while she held a floppy sketch pad over her head. I couldn’t decide if she was merely enjoying herself, or working while she tried to place the tune that she was horrifically humming with whatever images were on the page. After a second it didn’t matter. The pad landed on the top of her head and her feet came off the desk as she excitedly kicked them out in mid-air action, while laughing.
Clearly she was pleased with herself.
“I got it!” she shouted. “The dog is not sitting in the middle of the kitchen!” Her feet landed on the floor as she sat forward and dropped the pad on her lap. “The pooch is rummaging around in the fridge when he finds the product and says the lines! He—oh shit,” she grumbled, after she plucked the buds out of her ears.
She must have realized she’d been yelling.
“Ms. Henderson?”
I was sorry that Lisa had interrupted this little show. I was learning a lot about the woman just watching her.
“What’s with the Ms. Henderson crap?”
I stared at her and she stared right back. Then she cleared her throat and smiled so tightly I thought her jawbone was going to shatter.
“You didn’t tell me we had a visitor.”
Amazing. Her lips did
n’t move.
“Mr. Tramaine said you were expecting him.”
Only her eyes moved as she glared at me. “He did?”
“You didn’t?” Lisa sounded worried, so I figured my first order of business was to put the receptionist at ease.
“Of course we had this set.” I dared Ms. Henderson to say differently as I continued to hold her gaze. “You must have forgotten.”
She blinked, looked at her receptionist for a second and when she returned her attention to me, I immediately scowled.
Yeah, the tactic was lost on her as she wasn’t concerned. Instead of adjusting her attitude she adjusted the position of her eyelids. They narrowed. Not a good sign.
“Thank you, Lisa.” She waved me into the room and craned her neck to see around me, speaking to the receptionist. “No worries, I can take it from here. Hold my calls,” she said. Which would have made sense if she had a phone. But after scanning her desk and the area around it I didn’t see one.
All I saw was a square room with a scarce amount of furniture. Merely a desk and two chairs. There was no paraphernalia on the desktop. Nothing, save for one pencil. Looking around I noticed there were no pictures on the wall either. Just a lot of empty hooks. “Are you moving out?”
“No. Please have a seat.”
“Moving in?” I stood beside the empty chair in front of the desk and waited for her answer.
“No.”
I waited some more. Damn she was stubborn.
After a moment she said, “Okay.” Sitting forward, she clasped her hands on the desktop, and asked, “To what do I owe this honor, Mr. Tramaine.”
“Sandy.”
She slowly angled her head and then she did something no woman had done to my face in a very long time. She raised a snarky brow at me. She may as well have rolled her eyes. “Why are you here?”
Oh, no. She wasn’t going to control this meeting. “Why is your office empty?”
“I asked you first.”
Now I angled my head. Prepared to show her that I could be patient. To a point. Unfortunately she seemed to miss my cue.
“Are you going to take off your coat?”
I didn’t move.
“At least sit down.”
Oh yeah, I was getting to her.
“Are you here because of the letter, or the rocks?”
Ty was correct. She was smart. And gorgeous. Seeing her up close and not as personally as I’d like, well, there was something to be said for closing the distance between two people. I really wanted to do that with her now. My gaze must have conveyed as much because she couldn’t continue to hold it.
She looked away and then reluctantly looked back. “My office is empty due to fear. I took everything out to make sure it wasn’t bugged.”
“I see.” Shit like that happened more often than most people realized. Given the fact that she believed Keith Vega had somehow stolen her concepts I could understand this. “Do you have a coat? We could take a walk while we have our conversation.”
She seemed pleasantly surprised that I believed her, or maybe that I didn’t question her over it. “Sure. I’ll get it.”
Her giving in this quickly told me a few more things about her. If she was listened to and respected, she was apt to be reasonable. I thought about that as we exited the building a few minutes later.
She was practical. I liked the idea of that.
She was also persistent I discovered when we were no more than a few yards outside of her office and she deftly rephrased her earlier question, “Are you here to talk about the rocks or...?”
I directed her to a bench that was drenched in sunshine, knowing that it would be warm against the cooler morning air. Once she was seated, I remained standing while I got right to the point. “Did you work for Keith Vega the owner of Perfect Ad Sense at some point?”
Ty and I had come to this conclusion along with another. If she was the talent that Vega had lost for whatever reason we were going to get her immediately rehired.
“No.”
No? Her answer threw me until I thought about her seeming paranoia about her office being bugged. That on top of the fact she hadn’t asked who Vega was, and you had to my mind a connection. “Have you ever worked with Vega?”
“No.”
There was a “but” hanging on the end of that short answer. “You know him.”
“Yes.”
Truthfully, there weren’t many times in my life when I wanted a beautiful woman to talk more, so this occasion was a rarity. “And?” I purposely leaned over her, hoping to intimidate her, yet all she did was smile.
Hell.
This woman had secrets I needed to know and I wasn’t thinking about the business stuff we needed to discuss. She had a world of I dare yous deviously sparkling in her green eyes.
I took a deep breath and let the air out slowly.
That male-enticing challenge would have to wait. Today was all about business first.
As passive aggressive intimidation wasn’t working with her, I straightened and then steered us toward the clearest route to getting to my end game. Honesty. “Ty and I believe that Vega may have stolen your original concept ideas for the contest we headed up last year. After revisiting the material you submitted against what his company supplied, it’s wholly possible.”
Finally, there was a crack in the defensive wall she’d been hiding behind when the shields lowered and she whispered, “You mean it?”
I nodded. “We just haven’t figured out where he got the other two campaigns. Once we do, we’ll tackle him on all three and set things right for you.”
She seemed deflated. “There are two others?”
“Yeah. After his company won the North American contest, we asked him to pitch us on a couple of other products before we pulled the trigger on contracting him exclusively. His company delivered on those pitches, but since we signed with him it’s as if the deep-well of great ideas has gone dry. There’s no...?”
“Oomph?” she offered.
One glimpse of her eyes, and I spoke my thought out loud, “Sparkle.” Then before she read too much into the word, I quickly added, “Not that we ever expected that potatoes or cupcakes would gleam, but those two ad campaigns soon to be released are going to make those products shine.”
Her eyes widened and then she gasped, scooting forward on the bench. “You better not be talking about Spud Dud and The Case of the Counterfeit Cup Cake.”
How the hell did she know about those promotions to come? They’d been strictly under wraps for months. “Where did you hear about them?” I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
“Oh, no. It is them, isn’t it?”
Fuck. “Let me guess. You designed those ads that he stole and then sold to us as his?”
She closed her eyes, fell back against the bench, and then nodded.
Wonderful. We’d all been ripped off. I sat down next to her and thought about where to go from here. We’d have to find a way to prove all this and get around the legal wall I’d worked hard putting up to protect not only our company, but Vega against what I’d thought was a matter of false claims. Vega was going to be toast, and when that came to me I felt better about things. Ten million dollars better. “Wesley?” I waited for her to look at me. “Tell me everything you know about Vega.”
***
Ty
“She’s here?”
Sandy looked up. “Yes, she’s in the conference room. Do you know where the file is on the Spud’s account?”
I walked over to one of the filing cabinets and pulled out the folder. “Is she going to work on this one? There’s nothing wrong with it. I thought we agreed to let her rework the toothpaste one to see if she deserves a shot?”
Sandy smiled. He never fucking smiled. At least not around the office. “Change of plans, buddy. It seems our angry angel is a creative genius that her ex-boyfriend’s been stealing from to build his company that we’re pretty much financing.”
It
took me a second or two to get up to speed, but when I did I followed Sandy to the conference room firing off questions. “She was the real talent behind the Star Surfer campaign?”
“Yep.”
“And the potatoes and cakes too?”
“Yep.”
“Did Vega steal all of them from her?”
“Yep.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
Sandy was too chipper for my liking. So, when we reached the conference room, I grabbed him by the arm and lowered my voice, “You like her?”
“Yep.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
“Quit saying that.”
Sandy still had an enigmatic smile on his face when he opened the door and called to Wesley, “I found the folder and Ty’s here.”
I was a bit teed off to see her flush with pleasure as she smiled at Sandy, but then her gaze shifted to me and my irritation vanished. Why? Because her flush deepened, and so did her smile. “Hi.”
After Wesley and I exchanged greetings, Sandy tossed the folder onto the conference table and sighed. “Maybe Ty will be able to figure this out. I still think it had to be one of your employees.”
Wesley shook her head. “I let everyone go but Lisa before I worked on the Cupcake account. And trust me, Lisa isn’t involved.”
“Can you catch me up?” I addressed both of them as I examined the pages they’d pinned on one of the lead boards to the right side of the conference table. “Who’s this?”
They both said, “Vega.” At the same time.
So, that clean-cut guy was Wesley’s ex...? Yeah, I hated him. “Looks like a nice guy.”
Sandy grunted and before I could tell them I was joking, Wesley scowled. “He’s not. Believe me.”
I examined the timeline of events they’d posted. It detailed the people in her office who’d been cleared, and then eventually let go. Then I saw the paper that had a one word question highlighted, Bugged? I studied the page that explained the details of her personal office being dismantled, from the artwork on the walls being removed, a new desk and chair being purchased, Wesley’s computers and iPads having been replaced and still Keith Vega had managed to steal her designs?