Between The Sheets (17 page)

They've used this time that I've been away to brainstorm and have called a meeting for the crack of dawn on Monday, where I'm sure they'll try to strong-arm me into bringing in another independent consultant. I intend to stall, but I don't know how much longer that particular tactic will work. The natives are getting restless but I have to admit that this two-day break from the madness was welcomed even if it did jeopardize my position.

This trip also enabled me to spend some quality time with my marketing director and pick his brain about what's going on between him and my network administrator. I wanted to know if their involvement predated my arrival or was a result of sex on the brain. Unfortunately, I'm still not sure, but Charles's attitude about Jacqui surprised me. He was very free with his opinions about all the executive staff, most of whom he respects—even my VP of sales, who by his own admission gets under his skin. He wasn't very complimentary about Jacqui, though. I even sensed a little hostility.

I know what you would say, John, with your suspicious mind, and I agree. Charles may very well be blowing smoke to throw me off the scent. I can't say for sure, but I did consider it, which proves that your private-eye skills are rubbing off on me.

 

Wil, who wants
all
your fingers crossed on Monday morning

 

John reached for his coffee mug with a smile, contemplating Wilhemina's latest update. Her private-eye skills? She wished. She was a sharp cookie but she had a long way to go before he'd hire her. To her credit though, she had nailed several things cold. Paula wasn't happy that he'd gotten up early this Saturday morning to come into the office and this wasn't the first time in thirty-five years that she'd voiced her opinion.

Too, he would have cautioned Wilhemina to look past her marketing director's obvious reaction to her questioning. She'd taken on a bizarre situation with this new company of hers and couldn't take anything for granted—which, according to her had been the whole point of taking the job.

And he was feeling much better about April. About work, anyway. He refused to speculate on what she and Holt might or might not be developing in
that
department. He refused to be sucked into agonizing about what she was doing with this guy. That was Paula's department. He hadn't crossed the line with his own daughters and in all the ways that counted, April was his daughter, too.

If Holt could get her to enjoy working out from behind the computer then John owed him one. It was that simple. He just wanted to see April happy.

He knew she'd be happy if he would allow her to start investigating and after reading this post, he was tempted. She was top-of-the-line on the computer and he didn't doubt that she could figure out exactly what was going on—both with Holt and the network stalker.

But according to this update, April was conducting herself very well in the field. She was proving herself very effective at inside surveillance and as far as John was concerned that was much more important than giving her a reason to get
back behind the computer again. She needed to build her confidence and he didn't want to pile too much on her shoulders.

Wilhemina hadn't asked him to investigate anyway. She was giving her people a chance to deal with the situation and he understood why. As the new kid on the block, she had an opportunity to see what they were made of. She'd covered her ass by putting April in place and he knew his sister-in-law too well to think she'd miss the signs of a sinking ship.

He'd wait to see what happened at her meeting Monday morning. If things didn't go well, he'd reevaluate. But John didn't think he'd need to. Wilhemina didn't need April's help or his crossed fingers to bully that board into what she wanted.

A
PRIL'S FIRST CLUE
that Saint Patrick's Day was a well-loved holiday in Chicago came while disembarking the plane. In the blink of an eye, the world transformed from the whitewashed, serviceable decor of an airplane interior to a lush landscape of green. And that was just at the gate.

“Wow. Is there some sort of mandatory dress code to be in this city today?”

Rex gazed down at her, the warmth in those deep dark eyes winning a tingly reaction no matter how hard she tried to control herself. “I can't believe you don't own anything green.”

“It's a wretched color on me.”

His smile deepened. “I find it hard to believe you'd look wretched in anything when you look so good in nothing.”

“Rex!” she said, not believing the man would say that within earshot of an elderly couple.

She didn't have a chance to dwell on whether or not he'd been overheard because they no sooner stepped into the terminal when a small crowd rushed them and she didn't need introductions to recognize the Holt family. Rex was the spitting image of his father, sans the silver hair and bright blue eyes.

The group cornered them between the gate and the attendant's desk, greeting them noisily, introducing themselves and pressing in to hug Rex as if he was the president arriving for a national holiday.

April shook hands and smiled a lot, with a complete sense of unreality. Somehow seeing Rex's family—his dad, mom, sisters, brothers-in-law and nieces and nephews—made him seem more real than he'd been when she'd had him all to herself.

Until this very second, Rex had been the man who could coax miracle reactions from her body, the man who could make her forget her common sense and long for the impossible. He'd been almost too good to be true, a figment of her imagination. Until now when she saw how very real he was.

He had a whole family who loved him.

He introduced her to everyone and as all his sisters, with the exception of Betsy, were married, she had her hands full sorting out which husband belonged to which sister.

“So what warranted the welcome reception today?” he asked while greeting the cluster of small children who gathered around his knees to beg for lollipops.

Uncle Rex didn't disappoint. He produced a handful of the treats from his briefcase, the cheek-filling kind with bubble gum in the middle, and earned squeals of appreciation from the little ones and scowls from his sisters.

“No, you may not open that now, Carson,” Theresa, his second-to-youngest sister, told her son.

Juliet held the distinction of being the oldest sister and scowled as if she'd had a lot of practice. “I'm sending your nephews in the car with you, Uncle Rex.”

He just laughed.

“Of course we'd come welcome your plane,” his mom said. “You brought home a friend.”

Gina Holt was a beautiful woman whose youthful olive skin made her appear more like a sister to her daughters than a mother. She clearly adored her only son and held him
at arm's length to check him out before she hugged him. “I'm so glad you made it home for the holiday.”

“And with a
woman
friend,” Betsy said.

Gina shot her youngest a dark glance then hugged April as if she'd been missed as much as Rex.

“You're lucky your grandparents didn't show up.” His father laughed. “They'd be here if Grandpa didn't insist on hearing the Rovers practice this morning, trust me.”

His dad was what April had always thought of as dark Irish, tall, black-haired—though there was now more silver than black—fair-skinned with bright blue eyes that twinkled.

It was no mystery where Rex had gotten his charm. Shawn Holt laughed loudly, interacted with his wife and daughters easily and seemed genuinely pleased to see his son. Very different from the way John interacted with his girls, although something about that king in the middle of his all-female court held distinct similarities. Not to mention explaining Rex's own rather regal sense of entitlement.

“Have you ever been to the Saint Patrick's Day parade before, April?” Deirdre, the tallest of the sisters, wanted to know.

“Have you ever even been to Chicago before?” Juliet asked. “We want to know all about you, so come with us.”

Rex retrieved her carry-on bag and arrangements were made for the brothers-in-law to drive the cars around to baggage claim. Giving her a smile of reassurance, he disappeared with his parents to retrieve their luggage and April found herself herded toward the bathroom to tend Juliet's infant's diaper.

The sisters were a hoot, so much like John and Paula's girls that she felt at ease as they interrogated her, conversing between the stalls, the sinks and the diaper-changing area as casually as if they were in the privacy of their homes.

“So who are you, April?” Juliet asked. “We want the scoop on why Rex has brought you home. Are you dating?”

“I'm his assistant on his current project,” she replied, unwilling to get into the details of their relationship. She had no idea what Rex had told his family and since maintaining family relations didn't comprise a great deal of her past experience, she hadn't thought to ask.

“Would you hand me that?” Juliet pointed to the bag on the floor and April did, smiling as Juliet hung on to her squirming baby, fished out a diaper and ointment while managing to keep her curious gaze on April. “You're just his assistant?”

Deirdre emerged from the sink area, drying her hands on a paper towel. “Betsy wasn't kidding. Rex has never brought home a friend for Saint Patrick's Day.”

“It's our biggest family holiday, if you can imagine,” Juliet said.

“Rex told me.”

“Well…” Deirdre prompted.

What to say…what to say?
She and Rex weren't dating; they were sleeping together. She had no idea what he would have told his family. She saw no choice but to keep her explanation light. “I hadn't made any plans to head home for the weekend and he felt bad about leaving me behind at the hotel alone.”

“Your family doesn't celebrate Saint Patrick's Day?”

She just shook her head, not wanting to get into interpretations about what constituted family. She celebrated most holidays with the Mooneys. For all that John Patrick Mooney was Irish, Saint Patrick's Day wasn't one of said holidays.

Juliet handed off her son's diaper to his Auntie Deirdre for disposal. “Where's home?”

“Los Angeles.” An outright lie.

“How long ago did you and Rex meet?” Theresa called from the sink area, where she was helping her preschool aged daughter wash her hands.

“Just a few weeks ago when I was assigned to the project he's currently working on.”

“The sheet project?” Juliet asked, illustrating that while Rex may work on the road, he remained in touch with his family enough for them to know the particulars of his business life.

She nodded, interested.

“So you and Rex spend your days doing what…talking about what to do on sheets?” Betsy appeared, tossing a paper towel into the trash and retrieving several more for her young niece, who emerged from the sink area with Theresa.

“In a manner of speaking. We're collecting data for the launch of a new product line,” she coached, hoping to continue the conversation. Here was an opportunity to find out what Rex had said to his family about the Sensuous Collection.

“Oh, we know all about this product line,” Deirdre said, returning the diaper ointment to Juliet's bag.

“Made for a rather entertaining conversation over Sunday dinner when he first contracted the project,” Juliet added.

“I can imagine. It's rather unique. What did he tell you?”

By the time they caught back up with Rex and his parents at baggage claim, April had learned that Rex hadn't shared anything pertinent about the Sensuous Collection launch other than the details of the line itself, which had apparently entertained the Holts from appetizers through dessert.

Pleased with what she'd learned, April imagined the sisters were equally pleased. They were relentless in maneuvering her into neat little corners so she had no choice but
to answer their questions or look like she had something to hide.

Family inevitably came up.

“Adopted? Wow!”

“But your parents died? That's so sad.”

“How wonderful that you became part of your boss's family. They sound great.”

The sisters had been no less determined in the pursuit of information than their older brother demonstrated on a daily basis with his finely honed information-gathering skills. April decided this talent must be a Holt family trait. But when she saw Rex, standing out in the crowd with his striking good looks and charming smile, she couldn't help but think that information-gathering wasn't his only gift.

He looked relaxed in a way she'd never seen him before. The man was in his element, unguarded almost, a distinct difference from that almost-regal, always-on-edge person he projected to conduct business.

This Rex was a son, a brother, a man about the business of enjoying himself with the people he cared about. There was an intimacy about the way he interacted with his family, absently taking his mom's elbow to guide her through the door to where his dad waited with the car, holding his infant nephew while Juliet strapped her older son into his car seat.

She watched him curiously, glimpsing a man who might be so focused on work that he didn't make much time to have a life, but one who knew how to enjoy himself when he did. And now that he realized he wanted to kick back and make more time to have fun, he'd need a woman to enjoy that time with. And when he found the right woman, he'd probably want to raise a family as wonderful as his seemed to be.

Fortunately April was distracted from her thoughts before she got to really angsting about all the reasons she could
never be that woman. Rex directed her to his parents' car and she settled in beside him for a grand tour of Chicago. From city history and trivia to landmarks like Rex's elementary school and the ball field where he'd played Little League, she glimpsed a view of his early life until their day of celebrating kicked off at nine o'clock mass at Old Saint Pat's Church.

They met up with his grandparents to attend the service and afterward made their way to the riverbank of the Chicago River for a bird's-eye view of the river's transformation into an Irish-green phenomenon, and a performance by the Shannon Rovers Irish Pipe Band.

Rex's grandfather was a retired band member, an elderly man who'd passed along his charm to his son and grandson. With his twinkling blue eyes and dashing smiles, Scully Holt clearly still reigned as the patriarch of the Holt family. His wife Anna smiled good-naturedly at her husband's loud welcomes and hugged all her great-grandchildren warmly.

“So you're Rex's young lady?” Scully asked her.

April caught sight of Betsy elbowing Rex from the corner of her eye, but Rex didn't pay any attention, his gaze was fixed on April as he said, “Yes she is, Grandpa.”

Well, there, that answered the question about what Rex had told his family.

“And you've never been to Chicago before, young lady?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you Irish?”

“I am today,” she offered, hoping to sidestep the particulars of her upbringing. The sisters had already picked her brain enough for one day.

No such luck.

“Grandpa, April was adopted, so she might be just as Irish as you are,” Betsy said.

Clearly Betsy thought this tidbit was something special so April forced a smile and stepped into the suddenly awkward silence to deflect the inevitable questions. “I can choose to be whatever I want. And today, I choose to be Irish. Seems like a good day for it, don't you think, sir?”

Scully pierced April with a searching gaze and she knew those sharp blue eyes were assessing her character. Rex took a step closer. A reassurance, April supposed. But amazingly, the alarm wasn't shrieking in her head and she didn't have to assume the stance to stand still. In fact, she didn't feel nervous at all beneath Scully Holt's gaze and when his wizened old face split into a grin, April felt as if she'd made the cut.

It was a very good feeling.

“It's not only a good day to be Irish, little lady. It's the
best
day.” He shot his grandson a sharp look and gave a snort of what she assumed was laughter.

Without another word, he linked arms with her and his wife and escorted them both toward the riverbank where they could get the best view of the band on the south bank. April sensed Rex staring after them with a smile.

By the time Rex had maneuvered his way to her side again the crowd was cheering so loudly in anticipation of preparing the Chicago River for the holiday that she had to raise her voice to be heard. “I thought you said this river was going to turn green. That's orange.”

Rex leaned close, his head bowed over hers, but never taking his eyes off the river, which grew more orange by the second. “Just wait.”

And then it happened. Orange transformed to a bright Irish green before her very eyes. “Wow.”

“There you go. A Saint Patrick's Day miracle.”

“All right. I'll bite. How do they do that?”

“Leprechauns,” Scully replied before Rex had the chance. “Homesick for the greens of Ireland.”

April could almost believe him. With the bagpipes playing and the whole world looking as though the sky had opened up and rained green, she felt a definite magic in the air.

Or maybe the magic had to do with the company of the man wedged against her, his hand casually wrapped around her waist, so that even through her coat, her skin tingled with his touch.

His father said something that April couldn't hear, but Rex laughed, the chiseled lines of his face softening, the dark eyes he'd inherited from his mom sparkling with amusement.