Sleeping With the Boss (9 page)

And it made her ache all over. She had totally fallen for him and he’d only been using her. Her breath caught in her throat. She was so confused. Deep down, below the layers and layers of hurt and anger, she still believed they really had something special—that he cared for her.

The facts as she knew them and his explanation on the ride home had parried back and forth in her brain ever since he had dropped her off. And honestly, it was a dead heat. She got why she would be a suspect, for sure.

But Will had said he believed her innocent, even in the face of all the strange coincidences and circumstantial evidence.

She scrolled down and read the name she’d seen in several articles and photo captions out loud. “Bethanne Carmichael.”

Then she clicked on the next article. Local Socialite to Marry War Hero. Will and Beth made a fantastic couple. Both perfect as they smiled at her from her screen.

Skimming through the articles, it seemed like they were everywhere all the time: premieres, restaurants, parties, charity events, even a dedication at the zoo. She flicked through the entries, but stopped short at the bottom of the third page of links. Carmichael-Anderson Wedding Canceled.

Claire expected to find a dry article announcing the end of the engagement, but instead found a horror story. The press had had a field day. By the end of the first paragraph, she’d covered her mouth; by the third, she was holding her breath; and by the end of the article, she was fighting back tears. “That bitch!” Claire stammered in disbelief. It was a wonder the guy didn’t hate every female on the planet. She’d dumped him in the tabloids, and they’d covered his return by posting a photo of him on crutches and wearing a cast fielding questions about the breakup, rather than what he’d accomplished in service to his country. Beth had totally stolen his spotlight. “Give ’em what they want,” Claire whispered. Obviously, a celebrity breakup would sell better than a simple “hero returns” story. Best of both worlds.

It was the next article, though, the one about what had happened to his unit in Afghanistan, that ripped out her heart out and stomped it flat. Will and two other men on his mission had been injured in a roadside ambush. Even with a broken leg, he’d managed to drag the two to safety. God, to go through that, and then return to find out he’d been jilted.

Claire wiped away a tear and picked up her cell phone on her nightstand. He was only a phone call away. One simple push of the button. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not until she sorted out what had really happened between them.

After brewing some chamomile tea, she shuffled back to bed. Sleep or not, she couldn’t torture herself with looking at pictures of Will anymore. It was troubling how much she felt his absence after only this short while, and what she’d just read made her stomach churn. Bethanne Carmichael had better hope she didn’t meet up with her in a dark alley someday.

Chapter Ten

When Claire turned in her notice the next morning, Beverly asked her to finish the catalog she was working on before she left because she was the best editor they’d ever had and it was imperative it be finished in time. She had reluctantly agreed, for Heather’s agency’s reputation more than anything. It would only take the day to finish it, though honestly, she found it impossible to focus and at the rate she was going it could take her remaining week and a half.

Through her open door, she watched Chance go in and out of Michael’s office several times, but there was no sign of Will. Not that she’d expected him to show up today. Still, her heart stuttered every time someone entered the lobby, and sank every time she realized it wasn’t him.

After lunch, a crew delivered and set up rental chairs and a platform in the lobby, turning it into a makeshift stage for the private auction scheduled that night. While a woman affixed a skirt to the platform, Chance paced the lobby like a caged animal. Several times, he glanced over at the elevators as if waiting for someone.

When it appeared he was heading for her office, Claire snapped her attention back to her screen, adrenaline screaming through her body in a tingly blast. What on earth could he possibly want with her?

He stood right outside the door. “May I speak with you, Miss Maddox?”

Claire placed her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. “Sure.” He was smaller than Will, with brown hair that touched his shoulders. Piercing blue eyes like his brother’s studied her face as he got closer. He had the same whatever-it-was that all three brothers had, but he didn’t appeal to her in any way like Will did. Nobody had ever appealed to Claire like that.

“I hate to ask you this, but have you spoken with Will today?”

Prickles rolled over her skin. “No.”

He shifted uncomfortably and looked over his shoulder into the lobby. “Neither have I. He hasn’t answered his phone since he spoke with Michael last night. I was hoping you might have—”

“I haven’t.” She tried to focus on her screen, but she couldn’t, and he didn’t leave. “Maybe you should talk to Jacob.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

She leaned back in her chair and waited. His manner was nothing like Will’s assertive, direct approach.

He glanced over his shoulder out the door to the lobby, where the crew was still setting up chairs. “As you can see, we are prepping for an event tonight, and I really hate to ask it, but we could sure use some help.”

“I gave notice today and removed my name from the list to work tonight. I only agreed to stay until this catalog is edited, and I’m almost finished.”

“I know.” He twisted a ring on his right hand. “Beverly told me. I’m asking you to reconsider. We will only need help with check-in.”

“Why are you asking me rather than Hig…Mrs. Higgins?”

“Because it was an excuse to ask you if you’d heard from Will.”

Well, at least he was honest. She took a deep breath and met his steady gaze. Did he think she was a spy, too? His brother Michael did for sure. But Will didn’t. That much she was certain of. Maybe working this auction would demonstrate she had nothing to hide. Maybe not. Maybe the real reason was that deep down inside, she really wanted to see Will again and clear the air. He’d appeared crushed outside her apartment last night. After what she’d learned about him online, she knew she should at least let him know she understood why she would be suspect.

Chance leaned forward. “We really could use the help. Please reconsider. We’ll pay double for the event.”

Like that mattered. As Will pointed out so eloquently last night, she had
five-fucking-million dollars
in her bank account. The only reason she was even finishing up the work in front of her was because Elite Placement had a good working relationship with this company and she didn’t want to make Heather look bad.
Be responsible, Claire.
“Okay. I’ll help out.”

The trademark Anderson dimples made an appearance as he smiled at her across the desk.

…

“Open the fucking door!” Chance shouted from the front porch of Will’s house. “I know you’re in there.”

Will rolled over and landed on the floor in front of the sofa with a thud he could hardly hear or feel over the pounding inside his skull. He could, however, hear his little brother banging on his leaded glass front door.

“You break that glass, and I’ll make you eat every last shard of it,” he tried to shout back, but could only manage a croaking sound as he struggled to his feet. When he opened the door, his little brother strode into the living room without a word. Will didn’t even have to look at his face to know what he was thinking. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Chance picked up the almost-empty bottle and strode to the kitchen, dropping it in the trash can with a bang that bordered on a sonic boom as it rattled around in Will’s brain.

“Well, you would be an expert.” It was a low blow, and he knew it.

His brother’s voice remained level. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, Will.”

He slumped into his favorite chair and pressed the heels of his palms to his temples. “Why are you here?”

“When you didn’t respond to Michael’s calls and texts, he sent me over to see if you were okay. If I found you dead, I was supposed to leave you here to rot and stink the place up.” He wrinkled his nose. “You’ve already started that process, obviously. But since you’re alive, I’m going to sober you up and haul your ass into the office before the auction.”

Will started to shake his head, but stopped when it felt like it would cause brain damage. “No way am I going into the office today, or tomorrow, or ever again for that matter.”

“Something has come up. You have to come in.”

“No.”

“I’m going to tell you about the new information, then you’re going to haul your sorry drunk ass to the shower, and then come with me to the office.”

Will dropped his hands and looked up at his brother’s face. Chance was standing over him with his arms crossed over his chest. On a good day, he might be able to hold his own with Chance, even with all his martial arts training. This was not a good day. “What came up?”

“Last night, Polly Guidry told me that she was visited by an attractive, petite blond woman who suggested she not sign over her items with us, but to sell them instead to a private buyer who was interested in the entire collection. Polly could sell it all at once with less hassle and immediate results in cash. Of course she didn’t accept and we are still handling her account.”

Shit.
“When did this happen?”

“Two days after Polly met with Michael. That was week before last.”

Will scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to clear his partially fermented brain. Claire had been working in the office at that time.

Chance moved to the fireplace and leaned on the mantel. “I showed her a picture of Claire I captured from surveillance video. She didn’t recognize her, but I thought if they met—”

“This is completely unnecessary. I already
know
she’s not involved.”

“You’ve spent time with her, and I’m sure you’re right, but this will prove it once and for all and clear the issue for Claire as well. She’s agreed to work the auction tonight.”

“The fact that she even agreed to be at the auction of a client who’d been approached indicates her innocence.”

“So it would seem, but we need something concrete for Michael—something more than only your instinct ruling her out. This should do it.” Chance shoved his hands in his pockets. “Someone needs to casually get the two of them together to see how Claire reacts and see if Polly recognizes her in person—her voice or whatnot. I thought you were the best candidate.”

Will covered his face. “You got that wrong by a mile. It can’t be me. She’d bolt.”

“Well, I can’t do it. I’m on monitor because our night guard’s baby was born yesterday, and since no one could reach you”—Chance gave him a pointed glare—“I acted in your place and gave him the week off. The stand-in doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

His brother had every right to be angry. Hell, he’d even slipped up in his job, which was way out of character. It was time to get his shit back together. Will stood and stretched, trying to wake up his sluggish body and mind. “I’ll take over surveillance and you deal with Claire. I can’t do it. I’m not shitting you.” Though he’d love nothing more than to talk to her, she’d made it clear that was not an option.

Chance grinned. “Deal.”

After a long shower and two glasses of ice water, Will had evolved from hideous creature to something just shy of human.

“You look like shit,” Chance said from the seat across the limo.

Will didn’t bother to meet his brother’s eyes and continued to stare out the window. “I feel like shit.”
On every possible level.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Chance shrugged and finally looked away. “I’m here if you need somebody.”

“I’m fine.” God, he sounded like a dick. His brother was concerned and had every right to be. “Well, I will be.” They pulled up in front of the Anderson Building. “Thanks for coming by my place. I probably needed the rescue.”

His brother met his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

…

It was almost closing time when Claire spotted Will following Chance into Michael’s office. He didn’t even cast a look in her direction. Ever since he’d dropped her off, she’d thought about him and had actually started softening to his side of things, but his deliberate avoidance was irritating.

Her phone buzzed from her desk drawer. She pulled it out and slammed the drawer shut. She thought he would have at least acknowledged her presence.

“Hey, Mr. Sinclair,” she answered. “I hope you have good news for me.”

“Indeed, I do,” the familiar voice responded. “The hold has been lifted, and the money wired into your account is now available for use.”

Under ordinary circumstances, Claire would have screamed and danced around in a circle. She was rich—really rich. Something she’d never been before. For some reason, this amazing news didn’t make her feel like dancing. All she could think was that it was one more step toward leaving New York City behind. Her gaze moved to the closed doors across the lobby. She’d be leaving Will behind, too. “Thanks. You’ve been amazing.”

Heather picked up on the first ring, as had been her habit lately. Nothing like potential gossip.

“I’m stuck here late. Let’s go to dinner when I’m free,” Claire said. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

Heather’s voice was so loud and shrill she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Oh, my God! You got laid.”

If only.
Claire stood and looked out the window at the gridlocked traffic in the street below. “No. The money has been transferred and is available now. You know what that means.”

“Woo! It means you’re rich! Text when you’re done,” Heather said. “Be ready to dish on your date with your hunky man.”

He wasn’t
her
hunky man. Sadly, he never would be.

…

Will stared at the bank of monitors that fed from security cameras placed strategically throughout the office. He had muted the audio on all but the one in the main lobby. Every now and then, Claire drifted through a screen and a cold, sad wave of regret washed through him.

He watched her talk to an elderly man inspecting a topaz necklace in one of the auction lots. In her trim suit, she looked professional and businesslike, but every bit a woman, and he knew exactly what that woman looked like under that suit. Even knowing he’d lost her, his body reacted. If only he could go back and do things differently.

Polly Guidry and her new man arrived. She’d been a client since Will was a boy, and he’d recognize her anywhere. Her complicated and remarkably large hairstyle was…unforgettable. On the top right monitor, Will watched Chance go into action. He strode over to Claire and spoke with her a moment, then he led her toward Polly.

This was it. Will turned up the volume on the monitor where Polly was visible. Unfortunately, Claire was facing away and the room had a ton of background noise, so he couldn’t hear them talking. It appeared from the visual that casual, introductory pleasantries occurred and then Claire wandered off to meet up with one of her coworkers. Polly continued gabbing with her cronies as if nothing had happened. Chance looked up at the camera and shrugged. Will sat back in his chair satisfied. The girl he’d come to know just didn’t fit the profile, and he’d known that all along.

The door opened with a click behind him. Chance entered wearing a grin. “Case closed. I called Michael and he’s satisfied ruling her out.”

“There was never a case. I told you she didn’t do it.”

“You sure did.” He closed the door. “And now you have to discover who’s really doing it. But that’s not the biggest problem right now,” Chance continued, studying the monitors. The prospective buyers were arriving and filling up the seats. Will scanned the two screens that covered the lobby but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“There,” Chance said, pointing at the screen on the bottom left that focused on the elevators.

Holy fuck.
Will’s stomach dropped to his feet. Beth was there, working the room. He hadn’t seen her since before his last deployment and had hoped never to cross her path again. He lowered himself back down into the chair, unable to pull his eyes away from the woman he hadn’t seen in years. The one who’d rendered him little more than a shell almost a year ago.

“Wonder what she’s doing here?” Will said, more to himself than his brother. “It’s by invitation only.”

“Her mom is friends with Polly. And just so you know, she was asking for you. I told you she broke up with her boyfriend and was sniffing around again.” Chance pulled a rolling chair over from the desk in the corner and sat beside his brother at the bank of security monitors. “Grilling every person wearing an Anderson badge. If I were you, I’d stay in here. She’s on the hunt. You’re prime prey.”

Prey.
Will shook his head and watched Beth pretend to be interested in something a middle-aged man was saying while her eyes scanned the room like the predator Chance had described.