My One And Only

by MacKenzie Taylor

  Ethan frowned. "How do you know they don't?"

  "The inner circle is really tight. The two of you, me and my partner, my boss, and your two vet friends—that's it. Nobody in this group is talking. As far as Wilcox knows, it's just about the blackmail. He has no reason to know anything about the federal case."

  "He'll panic soon," Ethan agreed. "He'll try to contact Harrison again when he does."

  "Harrison has agreed to wear a wire if necessary," Krestyanov told them. "But frankly, I don't think we'll need it. I have the previous threats he got—he turned them over to me. All I need is evidence proving that Wilcox is behind the blackmail."

  "I still think we should take precautions," Ethan said.

  "So do I." The policeman looked at Abby. "There's no point in being deliberately foolish. Is there somewhere you and your sister can stay for the next few days?"

  "Yes," Ethan said. They'd stay with him. In San Francisco. Where he could lock the doors and put armed guards around the place. No one was going to hurt her.

  Abby glared at him. "I'm not moving out of my house."

  Krestyanov leaned forward. "Ms. Lee, I think you should consider—"

  "I'm not doing it. I can send Rachel to a friend's house for a few days, but I'm not going to let him scare me out of my house."

  "Abby." Ethan's frustration was mounting.

  "No," she said firmly. "I won't do it."

  He studied the set of her jaw. This was the same woman who fought fiercely for her loved ones and clung to him in the night with a tenacity that robbed his breath. She wasn't about to back down without a fight.

  "Fine," Ethan announced. "Then I'll move in."

  As the week wore on, Abby found her fuse growing shorter. She and Ethan had explained the situation to Rachel, who had agreed to stay with her friend Kelly's parents. Access to the kitchen, no doubt, had played a major role in her acquiescence. Rachel had received her acceptance notification for the Baldovino event, and since the date was little more than a week away, her mind was fixed on preparing for the competition. The chance to experiment in the gourmet setting was more than she could resist.

  Abby spoke to her daily, and she and Ethan drove out to see her twice that week. But as the weekend approached, with still no move from David Wilcox, Abby became increasingly more anxious. Ethan had been unfailingly patient with her moodiness. She supposed there were some advantages to his long-practiced habit of staying on an even keel. At least it freed her to feel like a basket case as long as one of them was thinking soundly.

  But there were signs that he, too, was beginning to feel the pressure. For the past two nights their lovemaking had taken on a new tone, a slightly desperate edge that made Abby feel like the clock was ticking. She told him she loved him—she gave him everything she had—and though he was a generous and considerate lover, he still managed to keep her slightly at arm's length. She cautioned herself to be patient. He'd had years to practice insulating himself, but she couldn't fight her fear that once the case was resolved, Ethan would have no reason to stay in Chicago.

  Detective Krestyanov had informed them that afternoon that he wasn't certain how much longer he could justify the extra surveillance on Wilcox if something didn't break soon.

  She was in her office with Deirdre late Friday morning, pouring over the last of the contracts for the fund-raiser, when Marcie buzzed through on the intercom. "Yeah, Marcie?"

  "Sorry, Abby, but Dave Wilcox is out here. He wants to see you."

  Abby and Deirdre exchanged looks. "Tell him I'll be right with him," Abby said. Deirdre pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Harrison's private line.

  "He's here," she said simply, and flipped the phone shut. With a brief nod, she sat down across from Abby. "Nerves, darling. Calm nerves. Just make the little ferret confess and he'll squeal."

  Despite herself, Abby had to fight a smile. Deirdre was enjoying herself more than she'd ever imagined. Harrison's plea that Abby give her the event chairmanship to raise her self-esteem had obviously been right on target. And Abby had been pleasantly surprised at the friendship she'd been able to develop with his sister in spite of, or perhaps because of, her unique eccentricities.

  "I should call Ethan," she told Deirdre. "He'll be pissed if I don't let him know."

  The other woman laughed and punched his number on her phone. She gave Ethan the same terse message, then gave Abby a thumbs-up.

  Abby hit the intercom button. "Okay, Marcie. We're ready."

  David Wilcox sailed into her office full of his usual charm. He greeted Deirdre with a look of surprise. "Mrs. Cornwell, or is it Everson now?" He took her hand in both of his.

  "It's back to Montgomery."

  "I'm so glad to see you. It's been too long."

  Deirdre, dressed in a turquoise suit with white pearl buttons, gave him a feline smile. "It certainly has, David, darling. What have you been doing down there in Harrison's accounting department? Working for slave wages, no doubt?"

  His smile didn't falter. He laughed, and Abby wondered why she'd never heard the hollow ring to it before. He turned to Abby. "How have you been, Abs? It's been a while."

  She had to squelch the urge to scowl at him. God. Abs. Had the man always been this obnoxious? Rachel had always thought so. "I've been busy, David." She noted the softness to his face and the slightly flushed look of his skin. Once, she thought him handsome in a boyish kind of way. "You know we've got the fund-raiser coming up."

  He nodded. "And the Baldovino event. I just cleared the paperwork for the sponsorship."

  Abby stared at him. "MDS is sponsoring the Baldovino this year?" Harrison hadn't mentioned it. The competition was a week away.

  David nodded. "We got word from upstairs about a week ago." He sat in the chair across from her desk. "We were a little surprised—you know, things being what they are." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gave her a rueful look. "But then, we just cut the checks. No one pays us for our opinion."

  Abby gazed closely at David's face and wondered if she was imagining the slightly bluish color beneath his eye and across his nose. It was almost imperceptible, but could easily have been a latent bruise from the strike of her umbrella. She decided her imagination was playing tricks on her. "So what brings you up here?" she asked him.

  "Well"—he looked a little sheepish—"actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to go with you to the fund-raiser this year—and maybe the Baldovino thing. We hadn't talked in a while, but—"

  Deirdre's laugh interrupted him. "David, darling, obviously you all are completely out of the loop down there. You've been spending too much time with your nose in Harrison's books."

  Did he flinch? Abby wondered.

  "Sorry?" he said, looking blankly at Deirdre.

  "Abby and Ethan Maddux are, er, together. I'm sure Ethan will be going with her."

  "Oh." David blinked, and he seemed to square his shoulders. "I had no idea." He studied his manicured fingernails. "It's not a big deal. There's actually this woman in Accounting I was thinking of taking. It's just that you and I always had plans—"

  That was a bit of an overstatement. Abby hardly considered the handful of casual dates she'd had with him a commitment. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I didn't think to tell you."

  "So… Ethan Maddux." His expression turned unpleasant. "I imagine that must make things interesting upstairs."

  There were few, Abby knew, who worked at MDS who weren't aware of the legendary feud between Ethan and his father. There were also few who were crass enough to gossip about it. She was starting to feel the same sense of anticipation she had when she knew a spider was lurking somewhere in her kitchen. She was ready for him to crawl out of his hiding place so she could enjoy the satisfaction of squashing him. "You could say that."

  "I knew Maddux was offering up advice on the financial situation, but I assumed, what with the buyout and all, that—"

  Deirdre clucked her tongue. "Ethan's interest in MDS didn't go much
farther than this office." She indicated Abby with a wave of her hand, "Abby did persuade him to take a look at things, but he and Harrison agreed the best course of action was to sell." Deirdre sighed dramatically. "It's really been quite sweet to see the way this has brought them back together."

  David's gaze narrowed on Abby. "Oh?"

  Abby nodded. "I wouldn't say things were completely mended between them—" The door to her office burst open, and Ethan and Harrison entered, laughing about a shared joke. Abby regarded the scene with amazement. Deirdre's smile turned positively wicked.

  "Oh, sorry," Harrison said, looking at David. "I didn't realize there was someone in here besides Deirdre."

  Ethan rounded the desk and leaned over Abby's chair to kiss her. It started as a brief peck, but when he took a second taste, it had her heart racing. "All right?" he asked quietly against her lips.

  "So far," she whispered.

  He raised his head. "We came by to see if you two wanted a break from all this paperwork." He indicated the clutter on her desk. Abby just stared at him. He and Harrison seemed positively chummy. David had to be shocked. Only Deirdre appeared to be taking it all in with a delicious satisfaction.

  "Baldovino is so grateful for our sponsorship money," Harrison explained, "he's invited us all to lunch at his restaurant. Ethan and I hoped we could persuade both of you to join us."

  "How cozy," Abby drawled. Ethan shot her a knowing look.

  "Can you spare the time?" Deirdre asked Harrison. "I'm sure things are getting hectic around the office."

  Harrison shrugged. "We're making the press statement this afternoon. That should take care of it."

  Abby watched David's face during the interchange. Nothing seemed to register. He stood, though, and gave her a brief smile. "Well, I for one have plenty to keep me busy. I'll see you at the Baldovino event, I suppose, Abby."

  "Yes, David, I suppose you will."

  sixteen

  Ethan glanced around the crowded interior of the Navy Pier Festival Hall and scowled. The Baldovino competition was in full swing. Spread throughout the exhibit space, chefs representing different Chicago restaurants and those operating individually were demonstrating their techniques and pushing their menus. The space was too open and too crowded. He was having trouble keeping an eye on Abby.

  Rachel was steadily working at Monsieur Billaud's booth, and while Abby stopped by there regularly, her foundation contacts and her innate flair for fund-raising kept her working the crowd.

  Pio Baldovino was notoriously flamboyant, and the event reflected his unique style. Not to mention, Ethan thought dryly, a complete lack of common sense. The decor and theme of the competition looked like a Las Vegas version of King Arthur's feast. The chefs' white hats bobbing above the crowd helped create a frenzied activity.

  Near the front of the hall, he spotted Detective Krestyanov. The woman with him, Ethan knew, wasn't his date, but a fellow detective who'd come along to provide him and Detective Garrison with backup in case things turned ugly. Ethan had not yet spotted David Wilcox.

  Deirdre, he noted, was doing her best to hold court near the front of the Festival Hall. She wore a sapphire-blue costume that had enough feathers and sequins to pass for a Mardi Gras float. A group of adoring young men, clothed in garish tunics and wearing assorted pieces of armor—none of it appropriately period—surrounded her, hanging on her every word.

  His aunt seemed to sense Ethan's scrutiny and shot him a look across the wide hall. A tilt of her head helped him locate Abby, deep in conversation with an older couple. He relaxed slightly and took a sip of his club soda. Abby was talking about the foundation. He knew that because she was using her hands to manipulate the air in front of her, something she did when her passions were evoked. There were plenty of other things she did in the throes of passion, but this was the only thing she did in public.

  In the past week, he'd become acutely aware of her idiosyncrasies and moods—as if the fabric of her life were sewn irrevocably onto his. He never got tired of watching her. The feeling had begun to make him a little edgy as he realized a growing need to bind her to him. She was becoming crucial to his existence, and he hadn't been able to fight the fear of the past few days that once things were settled with Wilcox, she would no longer need him in her life.

  He'd known from the beginning that Abby wasn't the type to accept anything less than an absolute commitment. She'd want everything from him, and he wasn't sure he had it to give. He frowned as he watched her, fighting the urge to stalk across the ballroom and take her away with him. Maybe if he took her somewhere isolated, where he could have her undivided attention for two or three weeks, his gnawing hunger might abate.

  Abby appeared so elegant in a simple black dress that hung low across her shoulders. On a sex-appeal scale, he'd have to say the look paled only slightly compared with the filmy nightgown she'd worn two nights ago when she'd deliberately seduced him at her kitchen table. It hadn't been much of a challenge, he admitted. He'd succumbed to the temptation in less than five minutes.

  Abby turned her head slowly and made eye contact with him. The sweet longing he saw in her gaze stole his breath. He sent her a wordless promise that said he was hers for the asking. She seemed to ponder him for a moment, then excused herself from her conversation and headed toward him.

  Abby was skirting the perimeter of the room, making her way toward him as quickly as propriety would allow. Every few yards someone would stop her for a greeting or a question, and she'd dart increasingly agitated looks at Ethan, who watched her with growing satisfaction. His hands were tingling with anticipation as he thought of touching her flesh—she'd have goose bumps. She always did when she was in this shivery, anticipatory mood.

  "Maddux, is that you?" He felt the hand on his arm a split second after he recognized the voice. "I didn't have the chance to talk to you earlier."

  Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze from Abby to rest it on David Wilcox. The weasel had a giggly-looking blonde on his arm. His eyes reflected the bright sheen of alcohol. "Hello, Wilcox." He looked pointedly at the drink in his hand. "Enjoying yourself?"

  "You bet." David awkwardly patted his date's hand.

  Ethan saw Krestyanov out of the corner of his eye. The detective was observing the exchange closely.

  "So, Maddux," Wilcox continued, "it must have been a blow to you, not being able to bail old Harrison out of MDS."

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't trying to bail him out," he said. "Didn't you hear Harrison's press statement this afternoon? I would have thought the news would be all over the place by now."

  The deliberate insult wasn't lost on David. He visibly bristled. "We heard, yeah. Something about blackmail because of his military deferment. That's why he decided to sell."

  Ethan shrugged. "That's the quickest way, they say, to foil an extortionist."

  "Don't suppose you've got any idea who the blackmailer could be?"

  "Harrison hasn't told me, but I think he has an idea. He's been in touch with the police."

  The color seemed to drain out of David's face.

  "Hello, David." A breathless Abby stepped neatly between them. Ethan curved his arm around her waist. "I'm glad you could make it."

  Wilcox stared at Ethan for a moment longer, then swung his bleary gaze to Abby. "Hey, Abs. How's your sister doing with her little chef thing?"

  Ethan felt Abby tense. He tightened his arm and said smoothly, "Rachel's doing very well. Her mentor thinks she has a genuine chance of getting accepted into Baldovino's program."

  The microphone squealed, and Ethan darted a look at the stage. Pio Baldovino had begun making introductions. Ethan glanced meaningfully at Krestyanov. The detective spoke a few words to his female partner, then headed toward Harrison. The woman made a beeline for Monsieur Billaud's booth.

  Abby laid a hand on Ethan's upper arm. She gave him a none-too-subtle shove toward the door. "If you'll excuse us, David, Ethan and I need to find Harrison. Baldovino has asked him to
make a speech tonight about his sponsorship plans."

  "Sure, sure," David said. "He's here, then?"

  "Oh, yes," Abby assured him.

  "Hmm." David's eyes narrowed. "I'll have to try and find him. I'd like to thank him for inviting us lowly accountants."

  Ethan made the mistake of not budging at Abby's ever more insistent pressure on his arm. The look she gave him told him if he didn't yield, she'd gladly bring her high-heeled foot down on his instep.

  He'd seen that look before. So he indicated the door with a sweep of his hand and followed her out of the crowded ballroom. The view, he had to admit, was prize-winning. He made a leisurely inspection over her hips, past her narrow waist, and up her spine until he reached the froth of honey-blond curls, neatly held in place by a shiny black rod. She'd done that just to tease him. When she'd slipped it into place with a coy glance at him in her mirror, she'd known that for the rest of the evening he'd have his mind on plucking that rod out.

  Abby rounded a corner into a semisecluded corridor, then jerked open a door. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him inside the semidarkened room. They were in an unused section of the Festival Hall, behind the stage where the speeches were being made. The room was cluttered with tables and stacked chairs. On the other side of the dividing wall were Harrison Montgomery, his blackmailer, and two thousand spectators.

  "I can't breathe," she told Ethan.

  He eased her into his arms. "It's almost over. Wilcox is drunk and stupid—he'll make a mistake."

  She shivered. "Krestyanov told me earlier that he wanted me out of the hall so David could make his move."

  "I agree." He stroked her back. "Krestyanov had signaled Harrison. His partner was headed for Rachel when we left. Everything's going to be all right."

  "I didn't think it would feel like this."

  "I know, baby. It's okay."

  The sounds of the speeches and the applause carried through the dividing wall. Laughter cascaded over them as Ethan rocked her against him.