Coming In Last

by Shiloh Walker

  She fell asleep right there in his arms, less than ten minutes later, the soothing heat of his large hand pressed to her belly, the other hand kneading the tense muscles of her shoulders and back.

  He buried his face in her hair and whispered, “I love you.”

  Distracted, Jamie didn’t even realize the door to his office was open until he almost walked right into the cleaning lady. She muttered a quiet “Sorry,” as she dumped his small can of trash into the large plastic bag tied to the side of her cart.

  Sarah Mullins, he thought automatically. “I thought the door was locked,” he said, brushing past her. They’d already had this discussion before. She could clean his office only if the door wasn’t locked. She wasn’t to use her master to get in and clean if he wasn’t there.

  Her purple eyes met his and she said, “It wasn’t. Haven’t cleaned in here for nearly two weeks now.” With a scowl, she attacked the dust on his desk as if it were a personal insult to her.

  “The door wasn’t locked?” he asked.

  “No.”

  A quick look around showed there was nothing she could have gotten a hold of, not that she’d likely understand it anyway. Jamie was certain he had never met a more dense person in his life. He’d absently offered her a drink once as he’d been on his way to the Coke machine and she’d stared at him as though he’d grown two heads and said, “A what…?”

  Mick and Jamie never left any of their work behind, always secured it in a locked briefcase, and carried it back to the condo they shared. Mick had been the last to leave last night, again, after Letcher had approached him in the lunchroom, wanting to ‘discuss’ things.

  Jamie had purposely lagged behind, far enough to convince Letcher he hadn’t heard anything. Of course, the small device he wore pinned to his shirt, picked up and recorded everything that was in view. And the ever-present recording device Mick kept in his pocket came on instantly at the sound of a voice.

  Letcher was digging a hole for himself. But it was taking far too long for Jamie’s piece of mind.

  He settled down at his desk, crossing his arms, his briefcase sitting on the desk in front of him, closed. “Try to hurry it up, if you can, Sarah,” was all he said as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Mick came in barely a minute later, barely glancing at Sarah as he grinned widely at Jamie. With one finger, he tapped his jacket pocket, indicating the recorder inside.

  Hope and anticipation sprang through Jamie and he resisted the urge to tell the cleaning girl to get out.

  Instead, he waited patiently, absently talking about the upcoming World Series with Mick as if he had absolutely nothing else on his mind.

  Once she was gone, Mick closed the door tightly behind her and pulled the recorder from his pocket.

  “…big, this time. How are things progressing with Ms. Morrow?”

  Jamie recognized Letcher’s high pitched nasal tones, and Mick’s lower, slower drawl. “Jamie is still looking for something to convict her with. She’s got all this extra money lying around. God only knows where it came from. But he wants proof.”

  “I’ll get him that proof. You think you can find a way to present it to him, once I arrange it?”

  “Of course. He’s so damn wrapped up in computers, he’s forgotten about real investigating, if he ever knew.”

  Jamie glanced at Mick, a sardonic brow lifted. Real investigating was something he had learned from Mick.

  Mick only smiled easily, laced his fingers behind his head and focused back on the tape.

  “You don’t seem to like him very much.”

  “He’s a kid who thinks he knows everything. Always running off at the mouth about computers, and personality profiles, doesn’t know squat about real investigating. Hell, finding out her finances was his responsibility, and he still hasn’t done it.”

  “How exactly are you going to work this, once you get the money?”

  “Quit and retire to Mexico,” Mick replied. “I got…a nest egg, and once this is over, it will be more than enough for what I need. Especially since I’m selling out my half in the business to Jamie. He won’t want to share it with anybody else. Hell, he’s been trying to get me out for the last five years. And I started the damn company.”

  “Here comes the really good part,” Mick said, leaning against the wall, grinning like a loon.

  “There’s one thing I don’t like though. I really don’t want to see the girl in prison. She’s practically a kid.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. I’ve felt Jeb out and he’s not going to press charges. She’ll lose her job and get a bad rep, but hell, she doesn’t need a good rep to work in a nursing home.”

  “How do you know he won’t press charges?”

  “He likes her too much. He said, and I quote, ‘I just can’t see her doing something like this to me,’ and then he made the pronouncement, ‘It’s only money. I don’t want to see her life ruined just for a mistake. Once it’s all settled, I’ll have my lawyers set up a meeting and I’ll tell her if the money is returned, we’ll call it even.’ Then he goes on to tell me that Jamie still hadn’t found proof, but he is aware that it isn’t looking good for Ms. Morrow.”

  The only sign of life in Jamie’s cold face was the muscle that ticked in his jaw. His eyes were cool and flat and unblinking. Not so much as an eyelash quivered as Mick stared at him. Jamie wasn’t at all pleased by the hole Letcher was digging for himself. In fact, Jamie looked about ready to shove him in that still shallow hole and bury him alive. “Buddy, it’s almost over,” he said quietly, cocking his head. “Keep listening.”

  “I’m turning in my notice on Monday,” Letcher said. “It’s very sad, you know. My wife has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. I’m quitting to spend more time with her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Art,” Mick said.

  “Ah, well, don’t be. She’ll make a sudden and startling recovery once we are in Monaco,” Art replied, laughing. “I’ve made some wise investments over the years and have a fat little bank account waiting for me. I just want to make one last parting shot, a big one this time.”

  Mick’s eyes might have started glazing over the technical mumbo-jumbo that followed, but Jamie’s only narrowed. If he wasn’t so furious, he might have appreciated how well Letcher had planned this out. How cannily he had hidden his theft. Padding expenses here, skimming from profits there.

  “We’ve got proof right there,” Jamie said, looking at Mick.

  “And we’ll have more in just another week or so. You know as well as I do, any smart lawyer can find a way out if we don’t actually catch him turning money over to me.”

  “How is he planning on planting this so called proof?” Jamie wondered, rising up from his chair and pacing. His lean fingers rubbed at his neck as he stopped to stare at the blank white wall in front of him.

  Mick shrugged his shoulders and held his hand up. “Listen,” he said.

  “Speaking of grudges, what’s the deal with you and Jeb? I thought ya’ll were friends.”

  Snorting laughter. “I have no friends, and no loyalties except to myself. Jeb Booth is a joke, Mick. A sad joke. Instead of making me the VP, he gave it to that fool, Johnson. Well, he made his bed.”

  “You certain he won’t be able to trace this to us?”

  “I’ll handle Booth. You just worry about keeping McAdams busy. Of course, he’s so busy putting it to Andi, I doubt he’ll notice a damn thing. He’s already certain she’s guilty, but I’d bet my ass they’ve been getting it on. And some people would consider me slime,” Art said, chuckling. “He’s just waiting for her to trip up so he can slam her in jail, and in the meantime, he’s slamming her.”

  Jamie shot to his feet, jamming his fisted hands into his pockets, gritting his teeth as the tape ended. “I’m gonna nail that bastard to the wall,” he said pleasantly, wanting nothing more than to take the recorder and make Letcher eat it, that and the nin
ety-two grand. Slowly, he drew in a deep breath, ordered his muscles to relax.

  “Calm down, man. It’s almost over,” Mick said, eyeing the younger man warily.

  “Yeah, almost.” The easygoing tone of voice didn’t have Mick relaxing any. Slowly, Mick got to his feet, deciding maybe sharing the tape wasn’t the brightest move. I could have just hit the highlights, he thought with a weary sigh. And saved myself the trouble.

  “Jamie, you need to calm down,” Mick said, wisely keeping his distance. “This will all be over with in a matter of few days, another two weeks top.”

  I’m supposed to keep lying to her for two more weeks? Jamie thought. He took a deep breath, acknowledging what he had already decided to do. “I know,” he said mildly, fury still hazing his vision.

  As Mick retreated from the office, Jamie dropped into his seat and said, “Sorry, buddy. But as far as Andi is concerned, it’s already over.”

  Chapter Nine

  She rolled out of bed on Saturday morning with a yawn and stretch, eyeing the clock with acute dislike. Way too early for a Saturday. But she had a house to clean and a book to work on. Of course, maybe the house wouldn’t get clean. She had lain awake for ages, unable to sleep without Jamie next to her.

  She had gotten accustomed to him so quickly. Already she could hardly imagine her life without him.

  But on the up side, it had hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she had sprung out of bed and hit the keyboard, staying awake until nearly three a.m. while the story flowed from her with an ease she rarely experienced, page after page, chapter after chapter.

  With a moan, she wondered why she was out of bed at eight thirty when she had been up so late. But nonetheless, she padded into the kitchen and searched blearily for her seldom used coffee pot. Her camisole rode high on her hips as she stretched on her toes, trying to wrap her fingers around the base.

  “Damn, now that’s a fine thing to see so early in the morning.”

  She shrieked, whirling around to see Jamie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb, a Styrofoam cup of coffee held in one hand, the other hand in the back pocket of a worn pair of jeans.

  “You scared me to death,” she said, her voice shaky.

  His eyes slid over her nearly naked body and he smiled. “You look pretty alive to me,” he replied, moving closer. Reaching over her head, he grabbed the coffee pot and moved it to the counter. “Just out of curiosity, why do you have it so high up?”

  “Because I usually don’t drink coffee,” she replied, eyeing his cup with greed.

  One black brow arched and he held the cup out to her. “Bad night?” he asked as she accepted, wrapping both hands around the cup and sipping carefully.

  “Yuck, black,” she muttered. Then, she took another drink, waiting for the caffeine to hit her system. She snuggled up against him, smiling when his arms came around her. “I couldn’t sleep.” Tipping her head back, she took in his drawn face and tired eyes. “You look kind of tired yourself.”

  His hands stroked down her silk-covered back. “You look beautiful,” he whispered quietly, staring into her eyes. “Even if you did swipe my coffee.”

  “I thought you had some stuff you needed to get done,” Andi said, trying to ignore the rush his words gave her.

  He leaned down and rubbed his lips over her mouth. She set the coffee down and reached out, hooking her fingers in the loops of his belt. For a moment, his body crushed into hers, his arms banding tightly around her back. Andi shuddered as he greedily took her mouth. Her hands went to tug at the hem of his shirt, but before she could get it out of the waistband of his jeans, he had lifted her, planted her nearly naked butt on the cool Formica counter top and stepped back.

  With a pained look, he said, “Andi, do me a really big favor and put some clothes on.”

  Glancing down, she followed his eyes as they trailed over the amount of skin exposed by her panties and camisole. “Why don’t you come with me?” she asked, looking at him through her lashes.

  “Oh, God,” Jamie rasped, pressing his hands to his eyes. He turned his back, bracing his palms on the opposite counter. The fabric of his shirt drew taut and stretched across his shoulders with the move, the muscles in his forearms standing out as he clenched his hands into tight fists. “Andi, baby, I need to talk to you and I can’t do it with you like that.”

  She shrugged, suppressing a grin as she slid off the counter. Over her shoulder, she called, “Your loss.”

  He looked up in time to see her pulling her camisole off as she walked away, exposing her slim naked back. Blowing a breath out, he muttered, “Don’t I know it.”

  He took his cooling coffee, gulped it down then started hunting through the cabinets looking for more. He found a red tin can in the fridge, popped off the top and sniffed. Not the same as freshly ground, but thank God, at least it wasn’t instant. Within a few minutes, the scent of coffee filled the air again and Jamie waited for the first cup.

  God, he was exhausted. He pressed his thumbs against his eyes, and rolled his shoulders. Lifting his head, he watched as Andi padded back into the kitchen, an angelic smile on her face. She had dressed. Sort of. If you could call pulling a pair of well-worn, tight faded jeans on, getting dressed. A thin white cotton tank top covered her, but did not conceal. It was so thin he could see the shadow of her nipples through it. One skinny, lacy strap slid down her naked shoulder as she took a couple of mugs from the cabinet.

  “You’re cruel, Andi, you know that?” he asked, flicking the strap with his finger before accepting the steaming mug of coffee.

  She paused in the midst of adding a boatload of sugar to hers to grin up at him. “So I’m told.”

  Jamie waited until she had settled down on the couch before following her, holding his coffee, staring into it, as he stalled.

  “What’s wrong, Jamie?”

  Looking up, he met her eyes. She had scooped her hair into a loose tail and she wore a pair of gold dangles through her lobes. Eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, arms looped around one knee, she waited patiently.

  “You’re so damn pretty,” he murmured, setting his untouched coffee on the oak entertainment center.

  She flushed pink.

  He wondered if a compliment in thirty years would still touch those cheeks with color, if her eyes would widen slightly and that small, self-conscious, proud smile would still curve her mouth. If he’d even be around to see it.

  Moving across the carpet, he settled his weight on the coffee table. His briefcase sat on the floor in front of the couch and he reached down, picking it up. Opening it, he took out a fat file and laid it next to him. “I need to talk to you, but before I do, there’s something I need to tell you. And you need to believe me.”

  “Okay,” Andi said, her voice wary. Her hands locked together and her knuckles whitened as his tension started to transfer to her. “But if you tell me you’re married, I’m going to kill you.”

  When he didn’t answer, Andi’s eyes narrowed. “You bastard.”

  He held his hands up and said, “Easy, girl. No, I’m not married. But if you cooperate, we can change that whenever you want.”

  She didn’t smile, didn’t respond to that as she studied him with narrowed eyes. “What’s the deal, Jamie?” she asked quietly.

  “I love you. I think it started when I walked into your clinic. I don’t know when. I only know that I love you—you’re the other half of me,” he said softly, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. Raising his head, he asked, “Do you believe that?”

  She combed her fingers through his thick hair and said, “Yes. I can’t understand it, but yeah, I believe you.”

  “I don’t want you to be hurt. I never wanted it.”

  “Hurt by what?”

  Jamie had stayed up half the night, trying to figure out how to tell her this. And he had come to the conclusion that there wasn’t going to be an easy way, so he just flat out told h
er, like he was giving Jeb a report.

  Halfway through, as he was explaining how Letcher had approached Mick, she climbed off the couch, brushing past him to stand in front of the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself while she rocked back and forth.

  “He’s the one who pointed you towards me in the beginning?” she asked when he paused.

  Staring down at the hands linked between his splayed legs, Jamie responded, “Yes.”

  “Figures.”

  That was all she said.

  Jamie went through the proof that had been gathering, saying, “It was all circumstantial, not enough to nail him. It was my job to find enough evidence to get him arrested.”

  “So, since he conveniently put me in the way to begin with, you went ahead and used me,” she supplied in a faint voice. “Efficient, Jamie. Very efficient. Nice side benefit, too.”

  “I never meant this to happen.” Getting to his feet, he moved to stand behind her, wisely keeping his hands in his pockets. But, damn it, he wanted to touch her, hold her. “I wanted you. I won’t deny that. I still do. I’m going to go to my grave wanting you. But all I intended to do was make it look like I was getting close enough to feel you out. I left some background reports and your financial data out where Letcher could find them and Mick was feeding him lines.”

  “I swear to God, Andi,” he said hoarsely, staring at the slim, stiff back. “Getting into your bed wasn’t a plan. It just happened.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t fight it,” she said coldly.

  “I couldn’t,” Jamie replied honestly. “It was where I wanted to be. Where you wanted me.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Did you get what you needed and want your conscience clear before you go back to Indy?” she asked, turning around and staring at him with hooded eyes.

  She had that mask on her face again, the one she had worn so often when he had first met her, the one that hid her every emotion. Even her eyes were blank. But fine tremors shook her body and Jamie would have cheerfully chopped off his arm before causing her pain. But it was too late. She was already hurting and he couldn’t stop it.