“I’m sure they’re worried,” she said.
“I know. I know. I need to talk to them.” He glanced at the cell phone ID as it began to ring, as well. Caron felt as if her ears were on permanent ring.
“My attorney,” Baxter said. He answered, “What the hell is going on, Kevin?”
Caron couldn’t feel more helpless. All she could do was sit and try to make out part of the conversation, which was short and apparently not so sweet. “I have to be at his office as soon as possible,” he said, heading toward the shower.
The house phone rang again at the same time as his cell. “My family,” he murmured. “On both lines, no doubt.” He stared at his cell and confirmed. “Like I said. My family.”
He stopped in the bathroom doorway and turned back to her. “Can you grab that call and tell them I’ll call them back? I have to contact some critical staff members and still manage a shower.” He didn’t give her time to answer before disappearing inside the bathroom.
“You want me to talk to your family?” she squeaked. “I can’t talk to your family!”
He poked his head back into the room. “Please, baby. Just tell them I’m not dead or in jail. That will hold them off a few hours.”
She inhaled and let it out, reached for the cordless. “Okay.” It stopped ringing. “It stopped ringing!” she called out.
“It’ll start again,” he yelled back just before the shower came on.
He was right. It started again. For the first time since she was about to walk down that runway, she thought she might hyperventilate. Damn it, Caron, get it together. Baxter needs your help. She punched the answer button on the cordless.
“Hello.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” came the female voice. “Caron, it’s Rebecca. I’m at the airport, and I just saw the news broadcast here in the gate area. Baxter didn’t answer his cell. Please tell me he’s not in jail or something horrid like that.”
“He’s in the shower,” Caron said, relieved at the familiar female voice. “Trying to get ready to go to the attorney’s office. He’s shaken, but okay.”
“Tell him I’ll meet him at the attorney’s office,” she said. “We’re trying to get our luggage retrieved now.”
“No!” Caron insisted quickly. “Please, Rebecca. Baxter will be devastated if you cancel your trip. This will get handled. By the time you land in Russia, it will be over. Please. I beg of you. Go on this trip.” They went on to argue a minute or two.
Finally Rebecca said, “We fly through O’Hare. Give me your cell number, and if there isn’t good news by the time I hit Chicago, I’m coming home.”
Relieved, Caron offered her number and prayed there would, indeed, be good news by that time. “My parents are going to be panicked. Can you make sure Baxter calls them?”
The other line had beeped several times. “I believe they’re on the line now. I’ll talk to them.” And so Caron spoke to Baxter’s mother and father. Both on the phone at once, on separate receivers. Rather than being resistant to some strange woman talking on Baxter’s behalf, they acknowledged knowing her name, and thanked her for being there for Baxter. Assuring her they would be there, too, and soon.
She’d barely hung up the line when Baxter appeared in the doorway already dressed in a black suit, fitted to perfection.
She started with the good news. “I talked your sister into still going to Russia, though if she doesn’t hear good news by the time they’re in Chicago, she’s coming back. I gave her my number and I’ll handle it. Your father wants you to call him as soon as you get on the road.” She swallowed hard and then gave him the bad news. “Baxter.” She hated telling him this because she knew it would upset him. “He’s on his way to the airport. He’s coming home and he’s bringing your mother.”
He ran his hand over his face, weariness in his voice. “I guess I can’t blame them.” He sat down on the bed and reached for his watch on the nightstand. Caron crawled over the mattress and helped him put it on. He seemed content to accept her aid, as if it were one thing he didn’t have to do himself. “So much for their Christmas in Paris, away from all of this,” he added softly. “It’s what, two weeks away?”
“I am hoping this will be over well before the holiday.” Which was in eight days, not two weeks, but she didn’t see any reason to point out the shorter time frame.
“We can only hope,” he agreed, and turned more fully toward her. “Caron. Baby. I have to go. There’s no way I can keep you out of this. The press is going to come after you.”
“I know. I don’t care.”
He wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her. “I’ll make all of this up to you when it’s over. Take you away somewhere wonderful. We can take your grandmother, too.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That is, if she likes me.”
“She’ll love you,” Caron assured him, the strength of his nearness comforting in such an uncertain time. “I was actually going to ask you to spend Christmas with us.”
“Looks like we’ll be doing Christmas with my family and your grandma,” he said, as if it was totally expected that they would be together.
His words rang in her ears. She was falling in love. Probably already had. And she worried for him, worried that Jett, a man so obviously devious, might have done more to destroy Baxter than he knew.
“Baxter,” she said, her hand resting on his chest, over the thunder of his heart. “I know you have to put on a tough exterior for the rest of the world, for your stockholders and employees. But I want you to know, you don’t have to for me. I’m here for you.”
“I know, Caron. And it means more to me than I can possibly show you right now. But I will. I will.”
His vow warmed her but not enough to erase the fear she felt for him, or about how this day was going to turn out.
IT WAS NEARLY FIVE, three hours into the FBI meeting he and his attorney had agreed to, when Baxter sat across from Agent Walker and her partner, Agent Ross, his nerves wearing thin.
“If you plan to arrest my client, then do it,” his attorney, Kevin Hersh, stated flatly. “This is nothing more than a fishing expedition that is bordering on harassment. You have nothing more than Jett’s accusations because there is nothing more to find. And you know that. You’ve looked. There’s not one detrimental aspect to any of this that can be attached to my client.” Clearly, Kevin’s nerves weren’t any better than Baxter’s. That was good because one thing Baxter had learned working with Kevin these past five years was that the thirty-something attorney performed best in an agitated frame of mind. Point proven when Kevin added, “Therefore, this meeting is over.”Baxter silently said a “thank you.” Yes. Please. Let this hell be over.
Agent Walker pursed her lips. The woman had a major chip on her shoulder that showed in her every expression.
“You have a problem with reasonable questions, Mr. Hersh?” she asked. “Or maybe your client does?” Her attentive inspection sharpened further. “Why would that be, I wonder?”
“Reasonable questions are fine,” Hersh replied drily, his chiseled features schooled into an uncompromising mask, “but they’ve been asked and answered several times over. Reframing the same question does not make it a new question. And might I add, Ms. Walker, your methods of interrogation have proven not only ineffective, but unethical. We all know you meant to seduce him into some great confession that didn’t exist.”
“There is nothing unethical about being at the same place as your client,” she countered. “Unless your client has some reason to feel an aversion to the FBI.”
“Give me a break, Agent Walker,” Hersh stated. “You planned far more than a casual encounter with my client. You simply failed to garner his attention.”
“We’re done here,” came the short, sharp response from Agent Ross, who’d spoken infrequently during the entire inquisition. “He can go.”
Agent Ross’s attention swung to Baxter, and Baxter looked straight into the depths of his stare and didn??
?t like what he saw—the man had ghosts swimming in his eyes, deep dark secrets that told of hard times, and a harder soul.
“Don’t leave town, Mr. Remington,” he said. “I expect you to be available if we need you again. I’d hate for anyone else to suddenly go missing.”
“I have no reason to run,” Baxter said, his stare unwavering. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“That’s not what Jett Alexander says,” Agent Walker interjected.
“We keep hearing that,” Kevin rejoined. “Yet we see no proof.” He leaned forward, as if he were sharing an inside secret. “You know what I think, Agent Walker? I think you jumped too soon, didn’t dot your i’s and cross your t’s with Jett. You’re afraid you don’t have enough to charge him, either. Now you need someone to go down, so you don’t.” He shoved his chair back. “You have no evidence. When you get some, call us.” He pushed to his feet, making the termination of the meeting final. “We’re leaving.”
Baxter eagerly stood, ready to run out of there. “This isn’t over,” Agent Walker promised, leaning back in her seat as if they weren’t worth the effort to stand.
Baxter followed his attorney out of the room, neither of them speaking until they had exited the front door of the building.
“This is all speculation on my part,” Kevin said, his voice low, tight. “But experience leads me to certain conclusions.” They stopped beside Kevin’s BMW parked beside a meter, and he continued talking over the top of the roof. “I don’t think Jett turned himself in. I think the Feds located him and brought him in. He most likely panicked under pressure and offered you on a silver platter.”
“I don’t see what that achieves,” Baxter argued inside the car as he snapped his seat belt into place. “I’m innocent.”
“Right now, all they’re thinking is that losing Jett means someone’s head’s on the chopping block. Jett’s attorneys will stall, which means the Feds’ hands will be tied. They’ll come at you hard and fast, trying to dig up dirt before I shut them down. But that’ll be faster than they think.” He glanced at his watch and turned on the car. “I’ll be filing a restraining order and an injunction tonight. The courts won’t let this harassment continue. You just keep a low profile, and I will make this go away.”
“It’s not enough to make it go away, Kevin,” Baxter argued as Kevin pulled into traffic. “Everyone has to know I’m innocent or Remington is ruined.” He scrubbed his jaw. “I have to appeal to the media and make myself visible.” He didn’t even want to know what the stock would close at today. “Do some of those high-profile interviews I’ve been offered. Tell my side of this.”
“Going public is a weapon, but one that must be used with caution,” he said. “In this case it serves us well to send the message that you aren’t anywhere near intimidated by any of this. I will need to approve the format of any venue you undertake as well as the questions asked and your answers, in advance.”
“Understood,” Baxter said, ready, willing and able to fight back. It was time to shove back. Caron was right. Protecting himself did protect those he cared about, and she was one of those people. He wanted this over, and her in his arms, and he would do what he had to in order to see that happen.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT all about?” Sarah demanded, following Fred into his office where he was already sitting behind his desk, feet kicked up, as if he owned the world—or rather her career.
“We weren’t getting anywhere in there. Baxter Remington has told the same story from day one. Nothing has changed.”She wanted to scream. She all but did. “You mean you didn’t want to talk about me trying to seduce Baxter Remington for evidence,” she accused. “I get that you don’t like it when women use their bodies for duty, but men do it, too. Undercover agents do what they have to. That’s the world we live in. If you can’t deal with that, you shouldn’t be an agent.”
Furious, she turned to leave. Fred moved with stealthlike agility, and suddenly his body was framing hers, his hand on the door above her head, stopping her from opening it.
Sarah whirled around, her back against the wooden surface, forced to look up into his face. He was close. Too close. Her body betrayed her anger, uncomfortable feminine awareness shimmering across her skin.
“Get out of my way,” she hissed. They’d pretended the conversation about his sister hadn’t taken place, but it was there, though she’d tried to forget it. She didn’t want to like Fred, didn’t want to be attracted to him. And bullying behavior such as this only reminded her why she didn’t respect him. “Move!”
“There is a time to push and a time to back off. It’s time to back off. You’re focused on getting away from me. It’s clouding your judgment. It’s the wrong reason to make a decision.”
“Your ego is bigger than I thought if you believe this is all about you,” she spat back, though guilt twisted in her gut. She did want to get away from Fred, away from him before he made her do something stupid and sleep with him. That would be the kiss of death for her career. “I want a transfer, yes, and a promotion. Early this week, I applied for entry into a special terrorist unit.” It was where she’d get the special training to be seen as more than just a woman. “But they want a track record, Fred, and they want results. They’re watching me on this one, and I have no doubt they expect me to clean up a mess and make it right. That means, cover my tail. I can’t think he’s innocent, I have to know he’s innocent. And I can’t do that with a partner who scoffs at every step I take and treats me like a little sister he has to protect.” The instant the words were out, she regretted them. She’d never meant to refer to his sister. “Oh, God. Fred. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. “I guess we finally agree on something. We can’t work together. Good luck getting that promotion and Baxter Remington. It sure as hell won’t be with me as your partner.” He took another step backward, motioned her toward the door. “Feel free. I finally do. I won’t stand in your way anymore.”
Sarah’s pulse raced, unexpected pain jabbing her in the heart. She grabbed the door and opened it, couldn’t get away quick enough. Tears prickled her eyes. Tears! Agents didn’t cry. Damn it, she didn’t cry. This was why she needed to be away from that man. He confused her, made her nuts. She swiped at her cheeks.
In more ways than one, this all felt unfair. She could seduce a perp and be respected in the morning. Falling in bed with Fred was another story. Falling in love with him—well, that would be just plain crazy.
16
THREE DAYS AFTER JETT had suddenly reappeared and further shaken up Baxter’s life—and Caron’s along with it—Caron’s grandmother was officially fretting. She’d seen the news and the papers, and despite Caron’s reassurances that she was fine, her grandma was on the phone for the third time that day.
Standing in her store, behind the register, phone jammed between her shoulder and her ear, Caron straightened the display on the counter as her grandma expressed more worry. “Yes, Grandma, I’ll be careful,” Caron said, only to have her grandmother launch into more worry-driven fretting.Caron raised an apologetic finger as a customer approached, one of the many despite the late eight o’clock hour—their normal closing time if not for the extended holiday hours. The well-advertised, unavoidable store schedule meant that she might not make it to Baxter’s in time to watch the national news show in which Baxter would appear that night. At least, not in real time at his place, with him and his parents, as he had hoped. Meeting his parents had her distracted anyway. So did the outcome of this show—how it would affect his stockholder’s confidence. They’d know tomorrow, when trading started, how well he was received.
Aware that her customer was staring at her, waiting patiently, Caron gently but firmly cut off her grandmother’s musings. “I love you and I’m fine, Grandma. I have to take care of a customer. I’ll call you in the morning.” With an affectionate exchange of goodbyes, Caron replaced the receiver on the cradle and rang up her customer’s purc
hases.
After wishing her customer goodbye, Caron glanced at the clock again, thinking Baxter should have landed about an hour ago, flying in from New York, and she wished he would call. On the other hand, she was comfortable that he would call when he could. She didn’t feel out of control or scared with Baxter. She felt safe, secure.
Glancing around her store, adorned with flickering red lights and poinsettias, Caron smiled. She really was proud of her little shop. Decorating her apartment, too, had seemed a waste since she was always here or at Baxter’s. Except last night, she thought longingly.
Despite his insistence that she go with him on his trip, she’d stayed behind to tend the store. Another sign Baxter was special, she thought. She wanted to be with him, but he didn’t make her feel she ceased to exist without him. Simply that she was better with him.
Twenty minutes before closing, Caron stood at the register finishing paperwork, the keys dangling in the lock, ready for departure. Instinct made her look up a second before a gasp escaped her lips as Baxter pushed through the door. In a long coat and dark suit, he rounded the counter and reached for her. Caron all but fell into those warm, wonderful arms, amazed at how much she’d needed this.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured, his chin brushing her hair.
She inhaled his yummy scent and wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling up at him. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Her eyes searched his. “Your show. You won’t make it home in time to watch it with your parents.”
“Actually,” he said. “I brought my parents with me.”
Caron’s eyes went wide. “What?” He brought his parents? She was meeting his parents. Now? Here?
“They’re outside waiting,” he said. “I thought you might want some warning. They knew I wanted to watch the show with you, so they picked me up at the airport, and we came straight to the store.”
“Outside waiting is not a warning!” Caron’s fingers closed around his jacket. “Why didn’t you call and warn me?”