Felicia glanced at the boxes again and her brow creased, which made Autumn wonder why she was so concerned about the dusty, old files.
“I think the reason those are staying is because Isaac and I are working together on an important new business presentation,” Autumn offered, trying to distract her. “He wants me to review previous history to get me acclimated to the way things are done around here.”
Felicia turned and gave her a smile that Autumn knew was not meant to be friendly.
“Sterling told me about the assignment, which is why you’re in here, in this cozy little office, and not down there on the farm,” she said, referring to the floor where all the other analysts worked in tiny cubicles.
Autumn noted that Felicia didn’t add “where you belong” to the end of her statement, but she got the gist. The executive floor was her territory and Autumn wasn’t welcome.
Still, Autumn knew she had to do something to appease her; otherwise, Felicia could become a hindrance to her investigation, like a cockroach she could never kill.
She pushed away from her desk and crossed her legs.
“Somehow it seems we’ve gotten off to a bad start, and I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I’m here.”
Felicia tilted her head, and a few blond strands wafted around her face, softening her appearance.
“That’s very kind of you, so I’ll offer you one piece of advice.”
“What’s that?” Autumn asked, thinking she was going to tell her that short-term disability insurance was a good investment.
Felicia glanced behind her shoulder and turned back.
“Watch out for Isaac. He has a reputation around here that’s not as glowing as you might think.”
Autumn wanted to tell Felicia that talking about a fellow employee behind his back had to be against the human resources official code of conduct, but she remained silent. It wouldn’t do her any good to invoke Felicia’s wrath when, at some point in the future, she could prove to be useful for something other than idle gossip.
“Don’t let his looks or his money fool you,” Felicia added before walking out.
“And don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” Autumn muttered under her breath.
God, the woman was infuriating.
No doubt Felicia was outside peeking in Isaac’s little window to see if he was there. Her warning about him didn’t ring any serious alarm bells for now, although it did make Autumn question Felicia’s motive for telling her. She made a mental note to closely observe any future interactions between the two.
After downing the last of her water, she opened her email.
The first was from Sterling and contained the credentials for the network, plus his cell phone number with instructions telling her he was available 24/7 for any updates.
While she appreciated his eagerness, this was a potential case of corporate fraud, not murder, and she hoped there wouldn’t be a need for a late-night phone call. If the man sounded like he wanted to smash heads at one in the afternoon, she shuddered to think what he’d sound like at three in the morning.
The second email was from Isaac.
Lunch was fun. I look forward to working with you on the Witterman pitch.
Since we’re on such a tight time frame, please feel free to call my cell at any time if you have questions or concerns.
—Isaac
Autumn’s lips turned up in a smile as she programmed his number into her cell, thinking she would call just to hear his voice. She suspected his playful tenor could turn passionate with the right woman.
She closed her eyes as a part of her wished she could be that woman. The part that missed a man’s awakening touch, his urgent plea between her thighs, the hush of early-morning loving and the tender kisses that would sustain her all day.
Opening her eyes, she leaned her elbows on the desk and put her hands against her flushed cheeks. Daydreaming about Isaac being the one who could lift her self-imposed ban on men meant that she needed to get back to work.
She glanced over at the boxes in the corner and wondered why she dreaded reviewing them all. She was a natural snoop, so normally she didn’t mind digging through reams of paperwork and finding the evidence she needed to help bring about justice.
But this case was different because she didn’t want to find out anything bad about Isaac.
Even though she didn’t know him, when she looked into his eyes, something deep inside her only wanted to see the good. The complete opposite of what she was called to do as a private investigator. To uphold the law, she had to condemn.
With a sigh, she decided she would take a stack of files home every night where she could review them while drinking a nice, big glass of wine.
She turned her attention back to the case by researching Paxton’s prospective client, Eleanor Witterman. The search netted a surprising number of results for the never-married socialite.
Most were news items about the recent sale of her art collection, which consisted primarily of works by French painters such as Degas, Monet, Renoir and others whose last names sounded equally romantic.
There was also an article where she admitted she was something of a Francophile, a person who just can’t get enough of all things French, including in her own words “Frenchmen.” And while she’d reflected she’d had many lovers, no one could make her forget the one who broke her heart.
I’m not rich, but at least my heart is intact.
Autumn counted herself among the lucky ones. She’d never had her heart broken, likely because she never let anyone get close enough to have the chance.
In Isaac’s case, she knew she had to keep her lucky streak going, not that he gave her any outward, public displays of interest. Although a few times today at lunch, she did catch him glancing at her as if he wished he could.
In his eyes, the desire was there. But so was the wall.
At least they had those two things in common.
Autumn redirected herself back to beginning her analysis of the investment market for diamonds.
Prior to bringing one company to its knees for securities fraud and before she started working as a private investigator, she was primarily involved in researching stocks and bonds. So she was surprised to learn that diamonds had outperformed equities in recent years. The risks were a market that was complex, unregulated and highly secretive. Certainly not advisable for the average investor, but for a woman with Eleanor’s wealth, investing in the diamond market might make sense.
Still, it was important for any investor to have a balanced portfolio and Autumn knew she had a ton of research ahead of her so that she could make the best investment recommendations.
Although she thought it was odd that Isaac didn’t suggest a discovery meeting with Eleanor so they could get a better understanding of her risk potential, that was really his call. She had no choice but to trust that he had his reasons for moving forward.
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly five o’clock. She’d better get moving if she was going to leave the office before Isaac. It wouldn’t do for him to discover that she lived in the same building as he did. In a city of eight million people, it was the best way to keep tabs on him, plus the view of Central Park was fabulous.
Autumn got up and walked over to the boxes. She knelt down for a closer look and was glad to see they were organized by year. She opened up the oldest one and selected as many files as she could hold in one hand, before standing up and stuffing them into her tote bag.
After packing up her laptop and fetching her purse, she buttoned her coat, cracked open the door slightly and frowned. Isaac’s door was shut and the lights were off.
Her brow crinkled. When had he left for the day? She hadn’t heard any sounds in the hallway.
She guessed it was because dia
monds had a way of commanding her complete attention. Or maybe she was just trying to let herself off the hook, she chided herself and vowed to be more observant of Isaac tomorrow. She certainly didn’t need any excuses to keep a close eye on his beautiful body.
Worried that Isaac would be standing at the elevators, she shut her door and leaned against it to wait for a few minutes, trying not to be upset that he didn’t say goodbye.
* * *
Isaac heaved his backpack over his shoulder, trying to ignore all the work within it. He picked up the pizza from the counter, pushed open the door and joined the swarm of people on Madison Avenue.
Eager to get home to his children, he walked as quickly as he could through meandering tourists and hurried workers rushing to get to the subway. Thankfully, the ice on the sidewalk had melted, but with the temperature dropping again that evening, he knew it would be treacherous in the morning.
When he arrived at his building, he glanced up at the evergreen cloth awning with amusement. The name of his apartment building was The Staffordshire, a name he always thought was better suited to a country estate in England than a high-rise apartment building in New York City. Central Park was right across the street, so he supposed that counted as the “country,” and although he owned his apartment, with the maintenance fees he was paying every year, he could have bought an estate fit for a king a long time ago.
Isaac nodded to the doorman, got in the elevator, punched in his code and rode to the penthouse level.
When he arrived, the apartment was oddly silent. Normally when he got home, the television was on and his children were plopped in front of it, zoned out like two zombies.
“Anybody home?” he called, setting his backpack on the floor. When he didn’t get an answer, he walked into the kitchen and yelled, “I’ve got pizza!”
Like magic, his children materialized.
Devon, his twelve-year-old son, ran and slid into the room in his sock feet. His sixteen-year-old daughter, Deshauna, entered a few moments later with the unhurried saunter so typical of teenagers.
That five-letter word works every time, he thought.
“Hey, guys! I’ve got your favorite.” He opened and presented the box with as much flair as he could muster. “Pepperoni, broccoli and onions!”
Deshauna took out her earbuds and made a face. “Um...the broccoli-and-onions part? That’s your favorite, Dad.”
“Yeah. I hate broccoli,” Devon joined in. “But I like the onions. They’re slimy and go down like worms,” he added, rubbing his stomach with a satisfied grin.
“Eww, get a life, Devon.”
Feeling an argument was about to ensue, Isaac quickly closed the pizza box and set it on the granite countertop.
“How about we all grab something to drink from the refrigerator and eat? Devon, you get the plates. Deshauna, you get the napkins and silverware.”
While his kids set the table, Isaac made a salad by grabbing a bag of pre-mixed lettuce from the refrigerator and pouring the contents into a bowl. If only everything in life were this easy, he thought as he retrieved a couple of bottles of salad dressing, mentally bracing himself for the latest crisis that his kids faced that day.
Devon and Deshauna had grown up in a slew of foster homes, just like he did, and were having some trouble adjusting to a new, stable life.
He’d adopted them both as he couldn’t bear for them not to be together. Although now, Isaac chuckled to himself, he had to break them apart on a daily basis to keep them from killing each other. The struggle to survive had transitioned into sibling rivalry, and he was still trying to figure out how to manage it.
Food was the great equalizer though, and he was glad when they were all sitting down and digging in.
“So,” he said, passing the salad, “how was your day?”
“I got an A on my math homework!” Devon said, his lips greasy with pizza sauce.
“That’s great. So all that hard work you did last night paid off,” Isaac said, resisting the urge to tell Devon to wipe his mouth. A boy should be able to eat his pizza in peace during a moment of glory, right?
It was times like these that he wished he had a wife. She could be the etiquette cop in the household and the kids could blame her for spoiling all the fun, instead of him.
Yes, she’d be mad at him for a while, but he’d be sure to make it up to her in bed all night long.
An image of Autumn suddenly popped into his brain. She was lying in his bed in a sheer lace nightgown and he was kissing the pout off her beautiful face.
Why am I thinking of her now? he wondered, even as he realized he hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day.
“What about you, Deshauna? Did you get a chance to talk to the guidance counselor?”
His daughter, who was a junior in high school, was just starting the process of looking at colleges. His heart pinched in his chest, thinking about her going away in less than two years, when he’d just found her.
Deshauna nodded, her bangs falling across her forehead. “I brought a bunch of information home. Some of the papers we need to have back to her by tomorrow. Will you have time tonight?”
Isaac thought about the slew of work in his backpack. It would be another late night, but his kids came first.
“Sure thing, honey. Let’s take a look right after dinner.”
Her smile quickly turned into a scowl when Devon grabbed another slice of pizza. “Do you have to eat so much?”
“I dunno,” Devon shot back. “Do you have to FaceTime with that boy every day after school?”
Isaac stopped chewing and stared at his daughter. “What boy?”
With a mortified look, Deshauna tried to kick her brother under the table, but he scooted away just in time, nearly taking the tablecloth with him.
“Cut it out!” Isaac instructed, inwardly proud that he managed to sound calmer than he really was. Between the two of them, he’d be lucky if he made it to his forties without having a heart attack.
“Deshauna, we’ll talk about this later.” He piled a second helping of salad on his plate. “Now, why don’t one of you ask me about my day?”
“How was your day, Dad?” they chorused.
“So much for following directions,” he commented drily. “But since you both asked, it was great. A new employee started working at Paxton today. Her name is Autumn.”
“Ooh...is she hot?” Devon said, gnawing on a piece of crust.
Isaac wanted to laugh at the cuteness of his voice, knowing that Devon was trying to sound cool and grown-up, even though he still liked to play with toys.
“She is, indeed,” Isaac replied, playing along. “As hot as those spicy French fries you love to eat.”
Deshauna smiled sweetly. “Then you should date her, Dad,” she advised.
Isaac could hear in her tone of voice that she was not concerned about his love life, but that dating Autumn might keep him out of her business for a while.
He pushed his chair back and stood. “Sorry to disappoint you guys, but I don’t date women I work with.”
Devon slurped down the rest of his soda. “Why not?”
“The girl would have to quit when you broke up with her, right, Dad?” his sister piped up in a firm voice, drawing Devon’s immediate attention. “And I mean, you would never do that and they would never fire you because you make too much money for them, right?”
Isaac leaned his knuckles on the table and looked at his children. He recognized the worried expressions on their faces as fear. No matter how many times he’d told them they were safe, that they wouldn’t be thrown out onto the streets, deep down they still didn’t believe him. He’d only adopted them a few months ago and he knew it took time to build trust, but it still hurt him to the core.
“Listen. My job is very stable and I wou
ld never, ever do anything to jeopardize it, okay?”
Both children looked relieved and Isaac decided to give them some free time before they started their homework.
When they were gone, he washed the dishes and cleaned off the table, his thoughts turning to the workday.
In all his meetings, where the attendees thought they’d had his complete attention, he’d only been there in body. His mind had been on Autumn. His penis hardened and grew against the counter just thinking about her full lips, gorgeous hair and curvy breasts.
Just a touch. Just a taste. That’s all he wanted.
But he knew he was lying to himself. Because if he was lucky enough or stupid enough to try anything with Autumn, he’d only want more.
When the kitchen was clean, he grabbed his backpack and checked his watch as he walked into his study, pleased to see that he still had time to decompress and come up with a reason Sterling needed to assign someone else to work on the Witterman pitch with Autumn.
Thank goodness, his children had made him come to his senses, he thought, before it was too late.
Chapter 5
At six-thirty the next morning, Autumn slipped a one-hundred-dollar bill into the doorman’s hand, who tipped his hat and winked. The man had been true to his word, ringing her apartment when Isaac had gone for his daily jog, with no questions asked.
The brochure for The Staffordshire, home to some of New York City’s wealthiest individuals, had boasted of the “utmost privacy afforded to its upscale residents.” She got into the cab waiting at the curb and laughed.
They paid for secrecy and so did she.
Irony at its finest.
As the taxi wove down Broadway toward the Financial District, she sat back and yawned so loudly the cabbie gave her the evil eye in the rearview mirror. She’d reviewed files late into the night and wasn’t used to so little sleep.
Autumn yawned again and rubbed her shoulders, wishing it was Isaac’s hands trying to relieve the knots under her skin, instead of hers. But the ride was too bumpy and her hands were too weak, so she gave up. There’d be many more late nights, so she could probably justify hiring a masseur. Preferably a male with abs so tight she could bounce a quarter off them.
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