Sleeping With the Boss (10 page)

The auctioneer stepped up onto the raised platform and slid behind the lectern. By security standards, everything was running like clockwork. By emotional stability standards, everything was completely fucked up. Beth popped up on another screen as she wended her way around the outside of the room, chatting up every AA employee. And then his heart completely stopped as she approached Claire. Seeing the two of them together made him scoot to the edge of his seat.

“Holy shit,” Chance said. “Claire’s going to throw down. Look at her body language.”

Sure enough, tiny Claire was squaring off with Beth, if not consciously, then instinctually. She stood straighter as they spoke and clutched the sides of her skirt in fists. Then she pointed to her left. The two women moved from one screen to the next, as Beth followed Claire into a small conference room between the elevators and Claire’s office. This room was fully visible on the screen.

“Turn up the volume,” Chance said.

Will hit the volume console button for screen seven, and both men leaned closer. There was no background noise, so it was easy to make out the conversation.

“Okay. Why are you asking about Will?” Claire asked in a harsh tone.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you know my name out there?”

“Newspaper articles,” Claire said, gripping the back of a leather chair pushed under the slick cherrywood table. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

It was a smile Will had seen at least a thousand times—Beth’s preening smile. She loved attention and being singled out as important or special. Most people did, probably, but it was what Beth lived for. “Well, yes, I am a bit of a celebrity in some circles.”

“Not in mine. What do you want with Will Anderson?”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“You need to leave him alone.”

“And you are?”

“Nobody.”

Beth’s expression darkened to a condescending smirk and she gave Claire a theatrical perusal from head to toe. “That much is obvious.”

“Look,” Claire said, shoulders back, head held high. “I’m asking you as a friend to step back and leave him alone. You’ve done enough damage.”

“You are not my friend,” Beth answered.

“Nor do I want to be.”

Beth flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and took a step closer to Claire. “That means you think you’re Will’s friend. Is that it? Are you his lover? I heard he had one now. I just never expected him to pick up an office girl.”

“Uh-oh,” Chance said, eyes glued to the screen.

Will’s gut churned as he watched his ex take another step closer to his…what exactly was Claire? Whatever she was, she was no match for Beth and he didn’t need intervention on his behalf. He could handle Beth himself. He stood. “I’m going down there.”

“Nuh-uh.” Chance grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “Let Claire handle it for now. Look.”

Will turned his attention back to the monitor. Claire had stepped out from behind the chair and was moving closer to Beth. “You listen to me, and listen closely, Bethanne Carmichael. I am not Will’s lover, nor will I ever be. We’re not really even friends, but let me tell you what I am. I’m someone who hates bitches. And while I’m a ‘nothing’ as you say,
I’m
not a bitch.”

“How dare you!” Beth sputtered.

“No. How dare
you
!” Claire circled to the other side, standing between Beth and the door, which Beth was eyeing. Will held his breath, having no clue what would happen next.

Beth tried to saunter past her, but failed when Claire stepped sideways to block her.

Claire was facing away from the camera over the door, but her voice was loud and clear. “You dare to come back here to contact him after you dumped him like that? Really?” The look on Beth’s face was almost comical with her eyes huge and mouth drawn tight. It was probably the first time in her adult life that Beth had been challenged.

Claire stepped aside and pointed to the door under the camera. “Go home. Go home and leave him alone.”

Will had expected Beth to bolt out the door when given the opportunity. Instead, she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You have no idea what it was like. He came home that first time wanting to put me in a tiny house isolated from everything I loved.”

“What about him?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said he was isolating you from everything you loved. You wouldn’t have been isolated from
him
. Didn’t you love him? Isn’t that why you’re here now, so you can get back together with him? That’s what Mallory said you told her when you made your rounds in the auction area.”

“I don’t even know who Mallory is,” Beth said, shifting a couple of steps toward the door.

Claire moved in even closer. “Did you
ever
love him, or did you only love what his money and power could do for your social life?” She backed Beth into the corner of the conference room. “Did your new guy not get you in the papers enough? Did you miss out on some premieres, or God forbid, have to wait for a table at a restaurant?”

Chance chuckled. “I hope this is being recorded.”

Beth’s brow furrowed. “What do you want from me?”

Again, Claire’s back was to the camera, so Will couldn’t see her face. “I want you to go away and leave Will Anderson alone. He’s one of the nicest, most generous people I’ve ever met, and he deserves better than you. He’s a war hero and you’re…you’re a selfish bitch. Get out before I lose it. Get out
now
.” Her voice broke on the last word and Beth bolted from the room like a scared rabbit. In the monitor, Will watched her enter an elevator and leave the building. He sat back and took several deep breaths as Claire slumped into a chair, back still to the camera, and covered her face.

“If you say one fucking word, Chance, I’m going to take out all my anger on you instead of a punching bag at the gym,” Will said. “Because I really want to hit someone right now.”

“So did Claire,” Chance said, pushing the chair upright and rolling it back to its original position. “I wish she had.”

“You’ll be taking your teeth home in a bag if you don’t shut up. I’m not kidding.”

“I’m not either.” Chance put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened between you and Claire that made it where you can’t even talk to her, but if I were you, I’d fix it.”

When Will looked back up at the conference room monitor, Claire was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Heather was already in their favorite booth with a glass of merlot when Claire arrived. “Hard day at the office?” she asked with a grin, dragging out the first word while wagging her eyebrows up and down.

The clumsy sexual innuendo was not appreciated. The altercation with Beth had shaken her up and left her in a crappy mood. “Today was my last day. I’m not going to finish out my temp time.”

Heather’s face clouded. “A phone call to me first would’ve been nice, you know. I’m the owner of the agency who placed you. It makes me look bad.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you first. I acted on impulse.” She pitched her purse onto the seat and slid into the booth opposite her friend. “I can’t stay until the end of next week. I need to be packing and other stuff so I can get to Egypt.”

“That’s not why you quit and we both know it.” Heather picked up her glass of wine. “I never pegged you for a runner.”

“I’m not running. I’m taking care of business. I don’t need the money anymore.” Which was and wasn’t true. She didn’t need the money, but she sure as hell was running. Just being in the same city with Will hurt, and sharing the same offices was excruciating. When she’d defended him to Beth, she’d spoken the truth—he was one of the nicest, most generous people she’d ever met. And in her heart, she knew he’d been honest with her. He hadn’t used her. He wanted her like she wanted him.

Heather took a sip and studied her over the rim. “What
do
you need?”

William Anderson.
“Dinner.”

Heather flagged down the waitress and they ordered. “Done,” she said. “Now, tell me why you are really bailing early. What did he do?”

“Nothing. It’s not about him. It’s about me. What I need and want.”

“And that is?”

“Freedom.” What she really needed freedom from was the killer ache in her chest.

Heather held up her glass for a toast. “Well, you got your money. Nothing’s holding you back. Here’s to freedom.”

Claire clinked the rim of her glass to Heather’s feeling anything but liberated. Part of her was tied here—just a tiny thread of her heart wrapped around William Anderson, and she wasn’t sure it would stretch all the way to Egypt.

“You can always talk to me, you know,” Heather said, squeezing Claire’s hand.

“I know. I just…” She was lucky to have a friend like Heather. Still, she was so confused and conflicted about what was going on between her and Will, she wouldn’t know where to begin. No doubt she’d fall apart if she even tried. “I’m still sorting things out.”

After a long, awkward silence, she decided it was time to change the topic to something emotionally safe—something
not
about William Anderson or her impending escape to another country. “Anything good going on at your temp agency? New clients or funny stories?”

Heather shook her head. “Nope. You?”

Ah. A safe topic, one they both loved: Egyptian artifacts. “We had a new one come through from a past client. The guy didn’t have an appointment, but came in with a really cool private collection of canopic jars. He had all four and the stoppers were beautifully carved.” In addition to loving Egyptian artifacts, Heather was totally into the macabre and these were right up her alley, since they had been used to store vital organs when a body was mummified.

“Nice.” Heather’s eyes lit up and Claire knew she’d successfully turned the conversation away from her shredded heart.

“You want to see them?” She turned her phone screen toward Heather and flipped through the photos she’d emailed herself from the client file.

“Where on earth would someone get canopic jars?” She took Claire’s phone and studied the photos.

“The client had inherited them from his grandfather, who held mummy unwrappings on his kitchen table in the late eighteen hundreds. He said his grandmother still remembered the parties.”

Heather handed the phone back. “Enough of mummies and boring office biz. Let’s talk about why you and Will Anderson aren’t lip-locking anymore instead.”

So much for steering the conversation to safer ground. “Let’s not.”

The waitress finally delivered their food and the rest of dinner was uneventful. Without any real heartfelt enthusiasm, she talked about her upcoming plans to travel the world—plans that used to make her giddy with excitement.

After dinner, she hailed a cab to take her back to her lonely apartment, where she was haunted by the memories of her amazing adventure up against the door with Will. Things weren’t so different for her since Sissy’s death after all. She was still plagued by
if onlys
and
might have beens
.

…

The rumble of Will’s motorcycle dimmed the noise of the city around him, but couldn’t drown out his thoughts. As he drove home after the post-auction cocktail party, all he could think about was how fierce and loyal Claire had been when confronting Beth. If only things had been different. If only he had foreseen the effect of the investigation on her.
If only.

I’m not his lover, nor will I ever be.
In her mind, it was over, but he couldn’t seem to let go. He knew she’d be more receptive if he gave her more time too cool off, but she was leaving soon and he didn’t have time.

The light turned red and he pulled up behind a cab with an ad for a new Broadway musical stretched across a mini-billboard above the trunk. The ad depicted a happy couple with sparkly grins and their arms around each other.
And they lived happily ever after
was scrawled across the bottom in swirly gold letters.

The light turned green and the cab inched forward, but a car stuck in the intersection forced him to endure staring at the 2-D happy embrace a little longer. That’s what he wanted: a fairy-tale ending, even if the happily ever after only meant two weeks.

Traffic started moving again and the cab switched lanes and turned. He would give anything for another chance—anything, including doing something risky. But hell, what was left for him to lose? Will took a right at the next light and right again, heading back in the opposite direction.

…

Claire rolled up another coffee cup in bubble wrap and placed it on top of the others in the box. She’d thought that packing would bring back that anticipation of leaving she craved. Sadly, every item she placed in the box felt more like a nail in the coffin than a step toward adventure.

Telling Beth off had felt fantastic, but at the same time, it made her sadder for what she was missing—a big, hot, honest, kind man with painfully talented hands. And other talented parts, too.

Her phone dinged again as Heather left another voicemail. She appreciated her friend’s concern, but right now, she just wanted to be left alone.

She sighed and wrapped another cup. By Monday, she’d have enough of her stuff boxed up to start moving it to storage. Then she’d leave this big, loud city behind. That’s what she’d always wanted, right?

No. Not anymore.
She wanted Will. More than money or even Egypt, and the realization sucked. And with that miserable thought, she crumbled to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and cried. She was long overdue for a cry, and damn, it felt good.

The banging on the door caused her to jump. The doorman hadn’t called to announce a visitor. Maybe it was a neighbor. Something had damned well better be on fire for someone to knock on her door after ten o’clock.

Barefoot and wearing warm-ups and a T-shirt, she wiped the tears from her face, wandered to the door, and stood on her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Will was the last person she had expected. She opened the door without hesitation as her heart did a somersault in her chest at the sight of him filling her doorway. The closed look on his face, though, gave her pause.

“I’m sorry. I had to come. If it’s a bad time, I can go,” he said.

And then his facial expression made sense. He was protecting himself.

“No. It’s okay. I was packing up some stuff. Come on in.” She sniffled, and realized she must look a mess since he’d interrupted her cry. “How’d you get in?”

“There’s only one guy down at the desk at night. He’s gotta go pee sometime.”

She stepped aside and he entered, stopping right inside the doorway. Instead of his usual confident demeanor, he was tentative. It must have been hard for him to come here. Risky even. She knew now that he had been sincere and that meant there was a lot at stake for him—just like there was for her.

“Look, Will, I—”

“Wait.” He held his palms up. “Please. I need to say some things.”

As if a hole had opened up in the floor, she felt like she was sinking.

“I know I hurt you. And it was inexcusable,” he began. “And I was probably taking things too fast, so I understand why you thought—”

“Stop.” Her voice was much louder and more forceful than she’d intended. Time stood still as they stared at each other, gauging each other. She didn’t want their relationship to end. “Yes, I was hurt, but you didn’t do it on purpose. You get why I was upset, and I get why you did what you did. That’s it. An ugly set of circumstances.”

He stood straighter, his face relaxing slightly, but he didn’t respond.

“As for taking things too fast, they couldn’t go fast enough for my tastes,” she said, relaxing a bit herself. “They still can’t.” She regretted blurting that out until the look in his eyes completely changed. It was as if they had darkened and deepened. She could drown in those eyes.

He wiped a remaining tear from her cheek with his thumb, then held out his arms and she stepped into them, loving his warmth and the faint smell of mint.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

“Me, too. I’m glad you came by. I didn’t expect to see you again, especially in light of our game of ‘keep away’ going on in the office.” She pulled back enough to look into his face so she could read his reaction.

His smile was bittersweet and dimple-free. “I couldn’t stay away. When I watched you with Beth through the security cameras, I knew I had to try to talk to you, even if you turned me away.”

Turning him away would have been impossible. “How did you and Beth end up together? She doesn’t seem like your type. She’s so…”

He dropped his arms from around her and took a step back. “Self-absorbed?”

She nodded. “You guys were together a long time, though.”

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked away and exhaled.

“How about a drink?” she offered, heading toward the bar to get some distance between them. Being in his arms again had put her body into an adrenaline frenzy.

“Nah. I’m driving, but I’d love a soda or some water.”

He followed her to the kitchen where she pitched him a bottle of water from the fridge. She pulled one out for herself and bumped the door closed with her hip. “You don’t have to talk about Beth if you don’t want to. It’s just a little confusing to me. I’ll be honest. I don’t like the woman.”

He leaned against the counter and twisted the top off the water bottle. “I met Beth at a frat party during my junior year of college. I wanted nothing to do with her.” He slid the cap into his pocket. “She felt differently.”

He took a sip from his bottle, staring at the cabinets over Claire’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact. She knew this was hard for him. “Beth represented everything I grew up with and wanted to get away from: society, the show of money, prestige. It seemed like no matter where I went after that, she was there. It turned out that she had known who I was since our freshman year and I’d never even noticed her.” He smiled, but it was not a happy smile, and it made Claire’s chest ache. “She resented the hell out of that—probably still does.”

Claire cranked open her own bottle and took a sip, waiting while he stared off into space for a moment.

“It became a running gag with my frat brothers that I had a stalker. After a semester of supposedly coincidental meetings, I started actually looking forward to seeing her. She was familiar by that point. So I finally asked her out.”

He took another chug of water and then set the half-empty bottle on the counter behind him. “Turns out we got along really well. Both sets of parents were over the moon about us dating. I mean, hey, an Anderson-Carmichael union would be like uniting two small countries in their eyes. Peace, love, and glitter-shitting unicorns.”

She laughed. He gave her a slight smile and continued. “Beth said she wanted the things I wanted, but it was all an act.”

“What kind of things?”

He shook his head. “Open air, quiet, a family eventually.”

“So you asked her to marry you.”

“No. She asked me.” He ran his hands over his closely cropped hair. “Honestly, when I look back on it, I should have seen the signs. I was projecting what
I
wanted, rather than seeing what was really there. I just kept looking for rainbows.” He took a slow, deep breath. “Even in Afghanistan, I kept chasing those rainbows.”

Claire knew all about chasing rainbows. Rainbows obscured the reality that crept up on you in the middle of the night when you realized your mommy wasn’t ever coming home. Or when the screams of pain started in the next room because the morphine pump wasn’t enough anymore.

They stared at each other until she felt a little dizzy. She knew what he’d been through and how much he’d been hurt. “I’ve been told that sometimes, there’s a pot of gold at the end of those rainbows. I’d sure like to find it.”

This time when he smiled, his dimples showed. “Me, too.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him from across her small kitchen.

“You up for a little adventure?” he asked. “I’d love to show you something.”

There were lots of things she’d like him to show her. Maybe her pot of gold was closer than expected. “Sure. You’re the boss, Mr. Anderson. Set the agenda.”

…

Will loved the feel of Claire on the bike behind him with her arms wrapped around his torso. At first, she had tried to maintain some distance, but before long, she was resting fully against him, and it felt so right.

He turned into his subdivision and his heart rate kicked up a notch. He wished it weren’t nighttime so that she could get a better look around, but the streetlights created pools of light that were big enough to give her the gist of it. His need for her to like his home bordered on irrational. He made a right at the second stop sign and took a deep breath. She was leaving in a little over a week, so in truth, her liking it was neither here nor there. Maybe he just wanted affirmation that the house he had restored and loved had value. Or maybe he wanted the girl he was falling for to value it, too. And with that thought, Will knew he was completely and totally fucked. He had it bad for this woman. Fate had thrown him a bone he couldn’t chew and it pissed him off.