by Mindy Klasky
Her fingers darted across the keyboard before she’d made a conscious decision. She called up the broadest due diligence database, the one that would provide the most hits. She typed in Kyle’s name, using initials, using all the tricks of the research trade that she’d learned in three years of law school, in seven years of practice.
The flood of articles threatened to overwhelm her account. But it didn’t take long for her to limit the search, to take out all the common reports of ordinary baseball games. She focused her review on Kansas newspapers, on stories from Kyle’s youth, when he was just coming up in the big leagues.
And she nearly cried out loud when she hit pay dirt.
~~~
The following morning, Amanda strode into the lobby of her office building, clutching an extra large coffee and reminding herself not to rub at eyes that felt inflamed from lack of sleep. She’d spent the better part of the night plowing through the UPA due diligence documents, testing potential witnesses, honing her list over and over and over again.
In the end, she identified a lot of contenders, a lot of scientists who could help. But one name stood out: Antoine Phillips. Dr. Phillips had the gravitas, the reputation, the sheer years of experience to make her case. Too bad he devoted the vast majority of his time to a public health project in Equatorial Guinea. Amanda had sent the good doctor an introductory email, pointing out all the logical reasons he should testify for UPA.
After sending that letter, she’d calculated the time difference. She couldn’t reasonably expect Dr. Phillips to respond for several hours. Therefore, she’d allowed herself to go home.
That just made sense—she needed to change her clothes. And she needed to get away from the glowing eye of her computer screen. Because her detailed study of Dr. Phillips had barely masked the other information she’d found. Her thoughts kept slipping back to Kyle Norton, kept sliding over the obscure references the databases had revealed. Once she’d found the first intriguing note, she’d dug deeper, using specialized resources, signing in to electronic services with questionable legality. Even as one track of her mind clicked away on UPA and Dr. Phillips, another chewed at the Norton data. The facts taunted her with possibility.
In the end, she only grabbed a couple hours of sleep in her own bed. She forced herself to take a freezing shower when she woke. Studies showed that cold water could compensate for as much as 3.27 hours of lost sleep. She’d slipped on her black-framed eyeglasses, the ones with clear lenses that made her look more intelligent. She’d armored herself in a suit and heels and told herself that would have to be enough.
“Amanda!” She barely stopped herself from grimacing as Harvey’s bold bass voice thundered across the lobby. She squeezed past him into the elevator as he held the door for her.
“Good morning,” she said, trying to sound bright and well-rested as she fought not to gulp down half of her steaming vat of coffee.
He waited until the door closed before he mauled the button for the eighteenth floor. “I’m glad I caught you. The partnership wanted me to remind you about the pay-in.”
“Of course,” she said. Like she could have forgotten. She needed to go the bank today, open up a vein, throw herself on the mercy of a lender who was sure to charge her usurious interest rates. Automatically, she started calculating how she could spare herself some of the cost. She could shift the last few hundred in her savings account over to her overheated checking account. She could put off paying rent for nine days—one day shy of incurring a penalty. If she skipped paying the electric bill, they probably wouldn’t cut her off for thirty days.
But she already knew the bottom line. She’d tallied it up countless times. Scrimping and saving wouldn’t be enough this time. She’d have to take out that loan for the full amount, even if every dollar she borrowed ultimately cost her three, in interest.
But there was an alternative, an evil corner of her mind whispered. Something else she could do. She’d found another path the night before.
“Excellent,” said Harvey, and he actually rubbed his meaty hands together, like a giant child anticipating an early Christmas present.
The elevator door slid open before Amanda needed to think of anything else to say. Harvey stepped back, allowing her to go first. And she stopped dead, one step into the Link Oster lobby.
Kyle Norton stood beside the receptionist’s desk.
Kyle Norton—wearing a white dress shirt and khakis. Kyle Norton—looking like he was perfectly at ease, as accustomed to law firm waiting rooms as he was to patrolling the outfield at Rockets Field. Kyle Norton—holding a manila envelope in his left hand, extending his right hand toward her, just like they were old business acquaintances, old friends. Just like he could trust her. Just like he had no idea what she’d pulled up on her computer Saturday night, what she’d read and checked and double-checked, until there couldn’t be a shadow of a doubt.
Which, of course, was the truth. He didn’t know what she’d discovered.
She shook her head and cleared her throat, stepping forward as she pasted on a professional smile. “Mr. Norton,” she said, matching his hand with hers.
His fingers were warm, solid. As they tightened around hers, she felt the pressure jolt along a direct line to her belly. She swallowed hard against that soaring swoop, that feeling that she’d pumped a playground swing out of control, that the chains were slack, and she was about to fall away into nothingness.
Harvey cleared his throat behind her. The sound was enough to bring her back to earth. She reclaimed her hand and introduced Harvey Link to Kyle Norton, as if she’d known the ballplayer forever. The social nicety gave her a moment to push down her thoughts, to smother the evil seed that had been trying to sprout since Saturday.
The men were talking about yesterday’s game. Harvey was complimenting Kyle on that home run. Kyle was nodding politely, tossing off information about the game as if it was easy, as if it mattered.
And all Amanda could think of was the computer printout she’d locked inside her desk. All she could hear was her voice on the phone in the early hours of the morning, leaving a message for a document delivery service in Kansas, requesting a ten-year-old file. She’d enunciated the case number, spelled out the name—N-as-in-Nancy, O, R, T-as-in-Tom, O, N. She’d read from the docket she’d pulled online, specifying the exact document numbers she needed, and she’d given them a billing number, her own personal expense account within the firm.
The charge would come back to her. The cost would come out of her pocket. But she was willing to pay, willing to spend the couple of hundred dollars it would take to get the Kansas files copied and emailed to her, rush. Because those documents were going to make her more money. They were going to pay her back a thousand-fold, if she only had the brains and the courage to use them.
~~~
Kyle might never have worked in a standard office, but politics were the same everywhere. He knew he needed to stand there, bullshitting with Harvey Link, pretending like the guy had brilliant insights into yesterday’s game. It was part of the territory. One of the things that came with playing a game for a living.
Even if what he really wanted to do was tuck Amanda Carter’s arm through his and pull her into the nearest closet to get to know her a little better. She looked just like her picture on the law firm’s website, the one he’d studied when he decided to track her down. She had that whole sexy librarian thing going on—eyeglasses and straight black hair, bangs that framed her face. He looked at the V of her soft white blouse, so prim and proper against her dark grey suit.
Right, like he was some fashion god, and could describe what she was wearing. He’d rather talk about what she looked like, how her green eyes flashed, bright against her pale skin, against cheeks that had just a dusting of freckles. He could tell someone that she smelled like baby shampoo and flowers. He could say that her teeth just barely scraped her bottom lip, like she was thinking of doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.
Amanda C
arter in her office was a hell of a lot more intriguing than Amanda Carter in the ballpark. And while no straight man would ever wish away the sight of her in that knotted green T-shirt or those leg-revealing shorts, he was every bit as intrigued by what she was covering up here in the white-on-white lobby of her law firm.
“Well,” Harvey said. “I should let you two get back to… what exactly does bring you to our firm, Mr. Norton?”
Kyle kept his grin relaxed, easy. “A business proposition.”
Harvey’s face brightened at that. “Well, then! Why don’t we just step into one of the conference rooms here—"
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I wasn’t clear. My proposal is for Ms. Carter.”
That got her attention. Kyle watched Harvey try to thread his way through that one, try to figure out a way to shoehorn his way into whatever conversation followed. But Amanda stepped forward decisively, raising one hand to indicate a conference room door. “Mr. Norton, we can step right in here.”
And she shot a sweet smile at Harvey, a smile that would have gone straight to Kyle’s crotch, if he hadn’t caught the little flare of victory deep in her eyes. He barely kept from laughing as he followed her into the room. She wasted no time flipping on the light switch and closing the door, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the firm.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said sincerely. “But you have to realize you just made Harvey’s day. He’s probably in his office right now, calling all his buddies. You might have a few autographs to sign before you get out of this place.”
He shrugged as she gestured toward the table, as she indicated one of the giant leather chairs. He tugged on the closest one, and it glided back easily. As he settled on the seat, he felt like he was being folded into a woman’s soft arms.
Right. He shifted his hips, easing his pants’ tightness against his crotch. No thinking of soft arms. Not until he’d finished his work here.
He pushed the manila envelope toward the seat she’d taken, at the head of the table. “Ms. Carter,” he said.
“Amanda,” she corrected.
Perfect. This was heading exactly where he wanted it to go. “Amanda,” he agreed. “I owe you an apology. I wanted to get a message to you before the end of Saturday’s game, but I wasn’t able to break away.”
She tilted her head at a curious angle, raising both eyebrows. The corners of her lips turned up, and he flattened his hands against the dark wood table to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. She noticed, of course. He was pretty sure Amanda Carter noticed everything.
“Please,” he said, nodding toward the envelope.
She slipped one fingernail beneath the flap, moving with a careful determination that tightened his thighs. He barely resisted the urge to shake his head, to tell himself he was acting like a teenager. As it was, he made himself sit all the way back in his chair. He took a deep breath, letting the scent of leather filled his nose, replacing the sweet smell of Amanda.
“What is this?” she asked, slipping three pieces of paper out of the envelope.
“The check is for your glasses of course. I trust it’s enough?”
She licked her lips, the first sign of uncertainty he’d seen from her since she’d stepped off the elevator. At three hundred dollars, he was damn sure it was enough. But it was bait for the rest of the package. And while she might not have understood what he was hunting, she was wary.
“And the ticket?” she asked, holding up the red and blue pass.
“It’s for next Saturday’s game. We’re playing Washington.”
She pushed the ticket back across the table. “Thank you, Mr. Norton. But that’s really not necessary.”
He shook his head. “Actually, it is. Please, you made a huge difference to me.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You gave me your glasses, of course. And I broke a twenty-game slump wearing them.”
“Your luck had to change at some point.”
He nodded. “It did. You made it change. And I want to express my appreciation.”
She set her jaw, looking more like the picture on the law firm’s website than ever. “Mr. Norton, I’m afraid I don’t have time to attend baseball games.”
He was ready for that one. He said, “If you—”
But before he could complete his argument, she held up a hand to stop him. “And you don’t want me to watch you playing ball. At least you won’t after we finish this conversation. After you tell me about Spring Valley Renewal Center.”
Kyle was grateful he was already sitting. Because if he hadn’t been surrounded by the huge leather chair, blocked in by the massive wooden table, the weakness in his knees might have dropped him to the floor.
~~~
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ALSO BY MINDY KLASKY
The Diamond Brides Series
Perfect Pitch
Catching Hell
Reaching First
(Triple Play I: Perfect Pitch, Catching Hell, and Reaching First available as a boxed set)
Second Thoughts
Third Degree
Stopping Short
(Triple Play II: Second Thoughts, Third Degree, and Stopping Short available as a boxed set)
From Left Field
Center Stage
Always Right
(Triple Play III: From Left Field, Center Stage, and Always Right available as a boxed set)
The Jane Madison Series
Girl’s Guide to Witchcraft
Sorcery and the Single Girl
Magic and the Modern Girl
(Available as a boxed set)
The Jane Madison Academy Series
Single Witch’s Survival Guide
The As You Wish Series
Act One, Wish One (formerly How Not to Make a Wish)
Wishing in the Wings (formerly When Good Wishes Go Bad)
Wish Upon a Star (formerly To Wish or Not to Wish)
(Available as a boxed set)
Stand-Alone Works
Capitol Magic
Fright Court
Season of Sacrifice
The Glasswrights Series
The Glasswrights’ Apprentice
The Glasswrights’ Progress
The Glasswrights’ Journeyman
The Glasswrights’ Test
The Glasswrights’ Master
Harlequin Special Editions
The Daddy Dance
The Mogul’s Maybe Marriage
ABOUT MINDY KLASKY
Mindy Klasky learned to read when her parents shoved a book in her hands and told her she could travel anywhere in the world through stories. She never forgot that advice.
Mindy’s travels took her through multiple careers – from litigator to librarian to full-time writer. Mindy’s travels have also taken her through various literary genres for readers of all ages – from traditional fantasy to paranormal chick-lit to category romance, from middle-grade to young adult to adult.
In her spare time, Mindy knits, quilts, and tries to tame her endless to-be-read shelf. Her husband and cats do their best to fill the left-over minutes.
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