by Lorin Grace
Candace looked up from her phone. “Video feed will be on in a minute. Don’t worry. Colin says it is only him.”
The computer screen flared to life, and Colin’s face filled the screen. His eyes drooped, and his speech was slower than normal. “I owe you two an apology. I was in Japan working on something and got back a few hours ago. I took a prototype phone, and it didn’t handle all my text messages well. Had I known what you were planning …” Colin gave a shrug. “I am not exactly asking your permission this time, but I am monitoring all online activity regarding both of you. Candace, so far I’ve found three email accounts for you plus a catchall. Do you have any others I should know about?” A list of her emails appeared on the screen.
“You are missing the one for my children’s-hospital support activities for kids dealing with cancer. It routes through the hospital.” She typed it in.
Colin rapidly typed on his keyboard. “Hmm, this one will get me into HIPAA-compliance issues as well as dealing with minors. And there are some lines I won’t cross. How about you tell me the second anything odd comes through.”
“Sure.”
“Okay, sorry again for this. But with the trial, I think the media will mostly ignore the protest. As for the fangirls, they are too busy trying to figure out Daniel’s dating tour of New York, so with any luck, nothing will happen this time.” The screen went blank.
Mr. Alexander stood. “Ladies, let me check the cameras, and then I’ll leave you to yourselves.”
Mandy turned to Candace. “Do you know what stinks? Now I need two new pieces for my show. With the ones on the poster all over TV, I can’t say they are still unpublished.”
Daniel checked his phone as the plane bounced through the landing and began to taxi. It would be nearly ten by the time he got back to the apartment. Not for the first time that day, he was glad he had no social engagements for the evening. Daniel’s stomach growled. He hadn’t taken a moment to stop and eat something substantial all day. He might have been better off if he had chosen one of the more expensive options for the charter that included food. But his father had installed a few too many of his miserly ways in Daniel. He really should have found a commercial flight to save him money considering how, in the end, he saved no time. And to think he had been trying to save on the apartment.
Once they were on their way to the apartment, he sat back in the limo he’d booked with the charter. What would the driver say if he asked him to drive through the Golden Arches? Daniel decided to order takeout and have it delivered to the lobby. He made a quick call to the doorman and placed his order online.
His phone beeped. Colin.
You know you are an idiot for not contacting her earlier, right? Nothing like having a best friend who was blunt.
Pretty much. I wish I could explain the dates.
You will be glad to know there have been no threats this time.
Daniel sighed in relief. Usually the threats came immediately. Four quiet hours had passed. Hopefully nothing would happen. Do you think she is out of danger?
Not sure. Keeping Hastings on it. BTW, Bonnie is TICKED.
I can only imagine.
I doubt it. I am rather annoyed with you too.
Colin and everyone else he knew. Join the club.
Aren’t you going to fight for her?
How?
Figure that one out yourself.
Daniel leaned his head back. He didn’t have a single clue. He dialed Mandy’s new number. Voicemail. He tried again. On the third time, he left a message. “There is probably nothing I can say that will make you call me back or listen. Please, not good-bye, not yet.”
The takeout bags were still warm. He gave the doorman an extra tip.
Daniel stepped into the apartment, then stepped back out to check the number on the door. Somehow the decorator had gotten things right. Warm colors, comfortable looking chairs, and clean lines.
At least one thing had gone right today.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“But, Mr. Crawford, I have a few more touches to add to your apartment.” No mistaking the New Jersey accent of the high-pitched voice.
Those touches worried Daniel. “Please, you have done enough. I’m quite happy with the interior as it is. Will you please send me your final invoice?”
“Are you quite sure? The bedroom could use some more color.”
“Positive. It is perfect.”
Another call beeped through. Morgan. “Thank you. I do need to go.” He switched over to the new call.
“Daniel, why did you fly out to Indiana yesterday? Couldn’t you have called?” The exasperation in his lawyer’s voice filled the room.
“I thought I would get there before the protest started. I didn’t think a news van would come to blink-and-you-miss-it Indiana to record fifty people protesting. They had no way of knowing I was there before I announced myself.” He knew that wasn’t the truth. He’d wanted to see Amanda and thought he would have the opportunity after shutting down Candace’s rally before it started.
“Well, one thing good came of this. That mock-up your girl did of the refinery has gotten attention. People don’t want it. And as far as other news, the clerk over in the courthouse in the county to the north managed to dig up the missing document. Apparently there is an agreement going back to your great-grandfather at the end of the Great War. The bottom line is that the Fowler property can be passed from generation to generation of Fowlers but not sold to anyone but the Crawford heir, and the sections of land not used must remain in their natural state. In the sixties, there was some question about the deed, a second sale of the land occurred for one dollar to register the deed properly. How the documents ended up in the wrong courthouse is anyone’s guess.”
“So George Fowler had no right to sell it?”
“Correct. The other thing is, we are relatively confident the signatures that allowed the property to leave the trust were forged. But we need to talk to Miss Fowler to be certain.”
The new couch was as comfortable as the toilet-paper one. “What does this mean for the Fowler property now?”
“Well, we can contest the sale, and I think we will win. I have no idea what the current owner will do, but they will probably go back to Fowler and demand their money back. But we need to have Mandy listed as one of the plaintiffs since the last legal transaction was to the trust in her name.”
“You know she isn’t talking to me?”
Morgan’s dry laugh came over the phone. “I heard. Good luck.”
According to his watch, he needed to leave for court for the opening statements in half an hour. So far the media had not picked up on the fact he was testifying on behalf of the hotel, not the Vandemarks. The gossip rags had been too busy following his social life to focus on the reason he was in the Big Apple in the first place. The next three days should be interesting.
While he waited for the car service, he opened the scan of the original Fowler sales contract and began to read.
Another phone message from Daniel. At least he had come up with a new angle, but using Grandma Mae was low. Mandy deleted the message like she had two others since last night. He should know the meaning of good-bye.
It was best if they stayed out of each other’s lives. Of course, it was difficult to forget him when Mr. Alexander stood in the doorway of her classroom, arms folded over his chest. Mandy waited for him to say something or leave.
“You really can go. My room looks fine.”
Mr. Alexander gave a mock salute. “I’ll be around.”
Mandy wondered if he had a first name, but it wouldn’t matter. Hopefully by tomorrow he would be gone.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened during her first three classes. During her prep hour, she completed the cleaned-up version of the mansion from a different angle, adding different landscaping and painting the wood trim a warm gray. She glanced at her clock. If she hurried, she had time to collect her mail before lunch. She still had the
untouched blueberry bagel from breakfast in her desk. The room tilted as she stood. Skipping breakfast had been a bad idea.
Drat! Coach Robb was the only person in the room. At least she only needed to get her mail. Reaching into her cubby, she suddenly felt his breath on her neck. “So, I see you are in the market for a real man. Mr. Money Bags doesn’t seem to want you.”
Mandy cringed. Should she hit her panic button? She turned, keeping her handful of papers up as a shield. “Back off.”
“Darlin’, don’t go all frigid on me.” He put his giant hand on her shoulder, pulling her shirt forward in the process, his eyes dropping to her chest.
“Please move.” She pulled the papers back to cover her gaping blouse and tried to step to the side.
His hand moved to the side of her neck. “Baby, I—owwww!”
Suddenly he disappeared.
No, he was bent over a table, one arm twisted around his back. Where Mandy expected to see Mr. Alexander, a tall, athletic brunette stood. “Perhaps my boss wasn’t very clear last week. Leave Miss Fowler alone.” The woman stepped back.
The coach’s face burned red—from anger or embarrassment, Mandy couldn’t tell. He took a menacing step toward the new woman. “Well, well. What do we have here? A woman with beauty and brawn. Perhaps you—”
“Would like to file a sexual harassment complaint?” she said to Mandy.
Coach took another step and raised his hand to the newcomer’s shoulder. In a flash, he was face down on the table again.
“Or I can give some self-defense lessons to the teachers at this school. You are easier to take down than you look.”
The door opened, and three teachers walked in, their laughter fading as they took in the spectacle. The shortest female started laughing again. “I’ve wanted to do that to him forever!”
The science teacher adjusted his tie. “Do you need any help?”
“Would you kindly go get your school officer? I believe your coach needs to be arrested on assault charges.”
The coach let out a string of profanities.
When the resource officer and the principal appeared, the brunette stepped back, keeping the coach restrained.
“Just what is going on here?” Mr. Lee walked to the coach’s side.
The coach opened his mouth, but the woman spoke first. “I witnessed this man sexually assaulting Miss Fowler. I would like you to arrest him.”
The principal stepped away from the coach. “Arrest?”
“Yes, I believe in this state, the charge is sexual battery.” The brunette looked to the short teacher. “Possibly multiple counts.”
“Miss Fowler, do you agree?” The officer pulled out his cuffs.
“She doesn’t have to. I witnessed it, I can bring the charges.”
“And who exactly are you?” asked the principal.
“Abbie Hastings, of Hastings Security.”
Mandy felt like she might faint.
And she did.
Two trips to the ER in the space of a month. At this rate she should get a frequent-patient pass. The doctor had recognized her, but the boot may have helped.
“There you go,” he said as he set the half-empty glue tube on the tray. “Unlike stitches, with glue, there should be no visible scarring on your cheek. Let’s peek at those X-rays. Good. No fracture to the cheekbone, and your foot is healing nicely. Another two weeks and you can take that boot off.”
Not exactly good. A week longer than she planned. She would still be wearing the boot for her MFA show.
“I’ll have someone come in with your paperwork, and you can leave.”
Mandy sat up and faced Abbie. “Thanks for your help. Did you really have him arrested, or did I imagine everything?”
“We did. Between what Alex witnessed last week and what I did today, there is a case there. The short teacher also filed charges. I won’t be surprised if other women step up to add more counts.”
Wincing, Mandy stopped mid-nod. “Yes, I know at least ten who have filed harassment complaints with the district.”
“Alex guessed as much.”
“Alex?”
“My brother. He goes by Mr. Alexander on the job. I’m part of his team. You didn’t think he was the only one watching out for you?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
A woman in scrubs entered with a clipboard full of papers.
Mandy signed the necessary forms and followed Abbie out.
“Oh, just so you know, I’ll be living with you and your roommate until the Vandemark trial is over.”
The automatic doors opened with a whoosh. “Why?”
Abbie pointed the way to her car. “Mr. Morgan, Daniel’s lawyer, is worried about repercussions. The Vandemarks don’t like to be crossed. And Daniel’s testimony could go either way.”
“But how does that involve me?”
“Because hurting you hurts Daniel.” Abbie opened her car door.
“But we are not dating or anything. I am just an old friend.”
“Keep telling yourself that and maybe someone will believe it. I’ve spent the last three years around Mr. Crawford, and, believe me, he doesn’t want you hurt.”
If he didn’t want me hurt, then he should have never kissed me. Mandy looked at her foot. “Really?”
“Yup. Oh, I need to take your photo.”
“Why?”
“Miss Fowler, if you need an explanation, a thirty-year-old single female bodyguard is the wrong one to ask.” Abbie Hastings snapped the photo. “It is for Daniel. He needs proof.”
The doctor had to be wrong. She must have a concussion and was hallucinating the conversation.
Daniel hadn’t been called to testify today, so he couldn’t break his date tonight. His being in the public eye kept Summerset from blogging that they were having private trysts—an added benefit to the defense team’s strategy. He hoped they were correct in their assumptions of the Vandemark legal team’s plan, or else all these dates were for nothing. Considering the number of times Summerset had tried to ambush him the last ten days, being seen with many different women was a good idea, even if he was beginning to detest every minute of it. He scrolled through his calendar to figure out the who, what, and when of his evening. It could be worse. At least he wanted to see the Broadway revival of the show. If he ate enough garlic for dinner, the smell might keep his date at bay. Doubtful. After her seminude performance at the music awards last year, she had been sleeping her way through the A-list. It would take a silver stake to keep her limited to the one-kiss clause of the contract.
In the cab, he checked his phone. The second he got into the elevator he called Mandy. Voicemail. “How are you? What did the doctor say? Please, please call me, Amanda.” If only the trial were over and he could explain all the dates and public kisses. He begged Morgan for an exception to explain to Mandy, but the lawyer was too concerned too many people knew the truth about the dates, and he was nervous, even with the nondisclosures that had been signed.
His next call was to Hastings. No answer.
His third was to Bonnie. Voicemail. “Please, I need help. This can’t get any more messed up!”
It could, and most likely would. His date was in an hour and a half.
She’d licked him.
Cameras had flashed.
The world had shuddered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I want to kill you or fire you. I can’t decide which.” Probably not the best way to start a conversation with one’s lawyer. Morgan only laughed and said he had felt the same way about Daniel over the years.
“Please, Morgan, give me one piece of good news. Other than it’s Wednesday afternoon and the week is half over.”
“How about your date’s people called to tell your people that she is sick of people?”
“Really?”
“Yes, go to the Rangers game alone or skip it. After all, you have work to do. And I hate to tell you this, but it looks like you nee
d to go to London again for some PR shots with the new buildings and a ribbon cutting.”
“No.” I need to go to Indiana. I need to fix things. Daniel looked at his calendar. “That is Mandy’s MFA show.” The words came out in a whisper.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Go ahead and book it. I need to go. Lunch break is almost over.”
“I hope they call you to the stand today.”
“Me too. I think the Vandemarks have realized I am here for the defense even though their lawyers subpoenaed me too. Summerset looks like she can’t decide if she wants to kill me or seduce me.”
“Watch your back.”
Four hours later, on the bottom step of the courthouse, Daniel wished he had taken his mentor’s advice literally. The screech of “Da-a-an-i-i-e-l-l-l!” matched a computerized falling-bomb effect, with the explosion landing on his back.
Summerset wrapped her arms and legs around him and rained sharp little kisses on the back of his neck.
And the cameras flashed.
Then she slid off his back and stood on the step behind him but kept her hands on his chest. “Darling, you must stop playing hard to get.”
Daniel spun around and stepped back disentangling himself. She moved in for a kiss, but Daniel threw his hands up to block her. “Miss Vandemark, you forget yourself. I have other plans this evening.” He slipped past a cameraman and hailed a cab.
Mandy texted a response to Daniel’s voicemail to acknowledge she was okay. To do less would be rude, especially when he’d picked up the hospital bill again. She’d sent four texts since yesterday afternoon. All of them impersonal and short. She needed their relationship to be a thing of scrapbooks past.
His mansion loomed large on her screen. Her additional meeting with Dr. Christensen had not gone well. The dean had not been pleased that her designs had been on television but had been mollified when her manipulations had been praised by extension from the university’s Art and Design school. She needed one more variation of the mansion by Monday for the show deadline. Fortunately, this would be a touch-screen piece, so she didn’t need to take the time to print it onto canvas or render it on a 3-D printer. Unfortunately, the touch screen would allow people to zoom into nearly pixel level, so her work had to be flawless. Dr. Christensen wanted her to email him a tight comp by 9:00 a.m. Friday. That left her a little over thirty-six hours, and seven of them she needed to be at school teaching.