Eight
Liam Elliott looked over the cheeseburger he held between two large hands, a glint of pure devil in his blue eyes. “You’re not seriously asking me for relationship advice, are you?”
Cade laughed and set his own messy burger on the plate, wiping his hands, then placing them on the stainless steel tabletop of the EPH cafeteria booth they shared. “Well, you know women.”
Liam looked skyward. “The wrong ones.” He took a bite and chewed while he continued to eye Cade skeptically. “So, you met a lady. You like her. But you think she’s not being straight with you and won’t tell you why. Do I have this right?”
“Basically,” Cade agreed.
How much should he tell the financial operating officer of EPH, anyway?
To be sure, Liam’s official executive role ended when they left the conference room after a morning-long financial meeting. They’d already examined the bottom line for a few hours and Cade knew the Charisma numbers could be better, but they weren’t completely in the tank. He had decent news to report to Fin. But now he and Liam were eating lunch, having chosen the far more casual cafeteria over the executive dining room, and the only numbers up for discussion were the Jets’ lousy passing record in the first two games of the season.
Once they covered that, it was only natural the conversation would turn to women. Cade had purposely steered the discussion that way; he needed some advice. Liam may have a checkered history with the ladies, but he was a true friend.
“So where’d you meet her?” Liam asked.
Cade glanced away, his gaze traveling over the ultra-modern decor of the crowded cafeteria. Even though it was just a few minutes past twelve, the room hummed with hungry EPH employees. He didn’t see anyone in particular. Not that he was looking.
Liam blew out a breath of disbelief as realization dawned on him. “Whoa. Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘don’t get your meat where you get your bread’?”
A wave of resentment roiled through Cade. “This is meat.” He held his cheeseburger up. “She is not.”
“If you say so.”
They ate in silence until Cade abandoned the meat in question in deference to the tightness in his gut. Liam already figured out the woman was an EPH employee; it would only be a matter of time until Cade told him the truth.
“She’s an intern,” he finally said.
“An int—” Liam choked on a gulp of water. His eyes widened as he coughed and managed to swallow. “Not that redhead with the funny glasses who’s been following Fin around?”
“Her name’s Jessie. And she looks a lot better without the glasses.”
“She doesn’t look bad with them,” Liam noted. “But she’s young.”
“She’s twenty-three. Hardly illegal and long past the cradle.”
“All the women in New York City and you pick a twenty-three-year-old intern at Charisma.”
Cade speared him with a look. “As if I need the world’s worst judge of women to point that out to me.”
“Hey, you brought the topic up.”
“I know. Because I need some help. This is complicated and not funny.”
“Okay.” Liam held up a hand. “No jokes, I promise. Talk to me.”
Cade took a deep breath and looked back into the sea of employees filing into the cafeteria. “I overheard a conversation she had and I know that she’s hiding something from me. And she told me I just have to trust her and eventually, she says, she’ll explain everything. Should I trust her?”
Liam shrugged one well-developed shoulder. “I guess it depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much you like her. On how bad you want to get her in bed. On how big her secret is.” Liam wiped his mouth and balled up his napkin before discarding it on the table.
“Start with the first one. How bad do we have it?”
Cade snorted softly, not even sure there were words to describe his feelings. Certainly not words he’d share with Liam.
“I’m going to take that as ‘real’ bad.” Liam laughed, then his look grew serious. “Don’t tell me you’ve graduated from ‘like’ to…the big one?”
Damn. Had he? “I don’t know about that. But it’s serious. Not casual. Not just sex.”
“Not just sex? So you already had her in the sack.”
Distaste roiled through him. Jessie and the sack didn’t belong in the same sentence. “We’ve made love.”
“Oh, brother.” Liam held up a hand, fighting more laughter. “I’m sorry. I’m not making jokes. But you’re pretty far gone, pal.”
If he was that far gone, why did he let her walk out last night? Why didn’t he just act on the lust that pulled at both of them, and take what she would have offered if he hadn’t pushed her to confide in him? Why couldn’t he say he trusted her and get her in the sack, as Liam so poetically put it?
“So let’s ask ourselves the third question,” Liam said, copping the voice of authority he used in business meetings. “How big is her secret? What do you think she’s keeping in the dark?”
If the financial operating officer of EPH suspected something like corporate espionage, he’d have to look into it, and if Cade’s suspicions were even remotely right, Jessie would be gone and her professional reputation trashed.
“It’s complicated,” he said, purposely vague.
God, was he protecting her? Even as part of him believed the worst? For a careful man who avoided mistakes, he sure was flirting with disaster.
“You know what I think?” Liam leaned forward and put his elbows on the tabletop, a bit of humor remaining in his eyes. “I think you are well and truly in love, my man.”
This was definitely not the advice he’d been seeking from Liam. “This from the man who hasn’t made it to the fourth date without boredom setting in. Suddenly you’re a love expert.”
Liam grinned. “And how many dates have you had with her?”
“One.” At Liam’s threat of laughter, Cade added, “A long one.”
“You’re in love.”
“What I am is sleep-deprived and distracted.”
“Same difference.” Liam paused, lowering his voice for emphasis. “Listen, Cade, seriously. If you really like her, give her the benefit of the doubt. What’s to lose, really? How bad can it be? She has a stalker ex-boyfriend or she’s got a lunatic aunt hiding in her attic? Whatever it is, you can handle it. It’s not as if she can mess with your job or your life.”
Yes, it was.
Before Cade could respond, Shane Elliott passed their table, carrying a tray of food and wearing a broad grin.
The men greeted each other, and Cade and Liam both offered some room in their booth. Despite the competitive environment Patrick had fostered with his contest, Cade was disappointed when Shane declined to join them. Cade genuinely liked Fin’s twin brother and wouldn’t have minded getting a little intel on how things were going at The Buzz.
“Thanks, but I’m meeting with some of my editorial staff.” Shane tilted his head toward another table, a glimmer in eyes so much like Fin’s, it was eerie. “We’re not ready to rest on our laurels yet,” he added lifting his tray slightly in a mock salute to Liam. “But thanks again for the news.”
Nodding goodbye, Shane walked away, leaving Cade to look questioningly at Liam.
“What was that all about?” Cade asked.
Liam raised his eyebrows. “File it under Patrick’s contest.”
“He’s ahead?” Cade asked in disbelief. “The Buzz took over the lead?”
Liam gave Cade a look of sheer discomfort. “You know I’m not at liberty to say.”
Cade rubbed his jaw and regarded his friend. Liam couldn’t reveal who was ahead, and Cade didn’t want to push him to a breach of ethics. “But that’s what Shane implied. Or was that a fake just to psych me out?”
Liam cleared his throat. “Numbers don’t lie.”
Cade stood slowly. “They’re ahead,” he stated again.
“It’s only S
eptember, Cade. There are four months left in the year. Anything can happen. The Jets could make it to the Super Bowl.”
Anything could happen, and if it was up to Cade, that wouldn’t include mistakes of any kind. “I sure as hell better get my mind off the intern and onto business.”
“Now you’re talking,” Liam said, standing as well. “Although I have to say, I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”
Cade exhaled softly, acknowledging the truth. “She’s not like any woman I’ve ever met. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Whoa. Way, way far gone,” Liam muttered with a chuckle.
They dropped their trays onto the rolling conveyor belt and headed for the door. Cade stuck his hands deep into his trouser pockets, not even trying to deny how far gone he was.
“Is it possible you’re being too harsh on her?” Liam asked as they reached the elevator. “Maybe you’re jumping to the wrong conclusion?”
Liam may not be able to commit to anything that lasted longer than a dinner date and a possible breakfast, but at the moment, he sounded remarkably balanced and insightful.
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“If she’s that great,” Liam added as he hit the elevator call button, “she’s worth the risk.”
Jessie had asked for Cade’s trust. And, frankly, she’d done nothing wrong but have a conversation that he’d only heard half of. She deserved more than the rush to judgment he’d taken. And, yes, she was that great.
“You know what? I think I will give her the benefit of the doubt.” Suddenly, he had an idea. “And something else.” Cade stepped away from the elevator, toward the lobby doors. “I’ll see you later.”
Liam frowned as the elevator arrived. “Aren’t you going back to your office?”
“I have something to do first.”
As he bounded out the doors to Park Avenue, Cade wondered if he could be fined by the City of New York for what he was about to do.
Didn’t matter. It would be worth a lousy fine to see the spark in Jessie’s eyes again.
Chloe Davenport swung around the door frame of Fin’s office and tapped on the wall for Jessie’s attention.
“Hey there, Miss Shadow,” Chloe teased lightly. “Fin still gone?”
Seated at the round table in the corner of the spacious office, Jessie looked up from the typeset page in front of her. “Hi. She said she wouldn’t be back until mid-afternoon.”
At Chloe’s inquisitive look, Jessie added, “We finished up in here this morning, and I stayed to proof this one last article on hemlines. I have such a hard time concentrating out there in my cube.”
“Boy, do I hear you,” Chloe agreed with a knowing nod.
“I can barely spell my name when the phones are jangling like mad. Stay in here as long as you like.”
Bingo. Permission from the gatekeeper herself to be in Fin’s office. Jessie’s heart rate accelerated to a light trot. “Thanks, Chloe. It won’t take me much longer to finish.”
“Well, since you’re here, I wonder if you could do me a favor. Cade’s assistant is at an all-day computer class, and I don’t expect anything earth-shattering to happen, but I’m dying to get something to eat and—” she wrinkled her nose guiltily “—I’d really like to stop by Saks for a quick look-see at the fall stuff on sale.”
God bless Chloe’s shopping habits. “I’ll cover the phones,” Jessie offered quickly. “You take your time.”
“It shouldn’t be busy,” Chloe promised. “Cade’s up in operations most of the day and neither one has anything on their calendars this afternoon. If you wouldn’t mind—”
“If Fin’s phone rings, I’ll take a message.” She waved her hand with what she hoped wasn’t too much enthusiasm. “Go shop.”
Chloe blew her an air kiss. “You are a doll, Jessie. I’m so glad you were the one to get the shadowing job.”
Jessie smiled, hating the sudden shame that squeezed at her chest. “Thanks, Chloe. I’m learning a ton.” And, when she was safely alone, she could learn a lot more.
Enough, she hoped, to make a decision about how and when to tell Fin who she was. She had to. If she didn’t want to lose Cade, she had to come clean. And, like her father had said, she just needed some indication that Fin would welcome the news.
After Chloe left, Jessie waited for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath.
All she wanted was some shred of evidence that would show her Fin had an interest in finding her birth daughter. She had no earthly idea what that would be or where to find it, but she had to try.
Jessie glanced at Fin’s desk, as neat and organized as the woman who normally sat there. Most people kept their private files right there, at their desk. Not out in the hall, where Chloe would manage them. And probably not over in the dark wood credenza that doubled as a file cabinet and a piece of furniture. They would be in her desk.
Blood sang through her ears as she stood, casually approaching Fin’s chair.
She had permission, she reminded herself. Chloe had asked her to answer the phones. If someone walked in, it would be perfectly understandable for Fin’s shadow intern to be jotting down the name of someone who’d just called.
She was covering for Fin’s assistant.
But who would she say called? Jessie tamped back the roadblock. That was the least of her problems if she got caught.
She eased into the leather chair, leaned to the right to peek into the empty vestibule outside of Fin’s office, then listened for any sounds of approaching feet.
The carpet would silence them, but Jessie would sense if someone was coming. She placed a clean pad of paper and a pen at the edge of the desk. As soon as she heard anything, she’d act like she was writing a message. The phone was inches from her hand. She could even lift and drop the receiver as though she were hanging up the phone.
With one more shaky breath, she reached over and gave the desk’s lone file drawer a tug. Unlocked, it rumbled open. Thank God Fin was trusting.
A little pang of guilt accompanied that thought as Jessie began to finger through the neatly typed filing tabs.
There were four folders with the names of foundations where Fin had done some philanthropic work. Two labeled with doctor’s names, perhaps personal medical files. One called “Design and Decorating” and another with the name of the woman Jessie recognized as Fin’s housekeeper. The last file was marked with an address, but when she slid it out, she realized they were condo association documents and she quickly replaced the folder in its slot.
They were personal files, all right. But nothing so personal it was labeled Child Given Up For Adoption. Jessie almost laughed at the stupidity and naivete of her plan. Of course Fin wouldn’t keep files like that.
But Jessie had one irrefutable fact. Fin had contacted and listed herself and Jessie’s birth date on one of Canada’s premier adoption finders Web sites. And Jessie had been born in Canada, at a convent, and her birth mother had been a fifteen-year-old girl by the name of Finola Elliott. That much she’d pieced together from bits of information her mother had given her and what the Mother Superior had told her when she called.
She glanced at Fin’s computer, where the Charisma logo bounced around as a boldly colored screen saver. On a lark, she tapped a key to bring the monitor to life.
Enter Password.
There was no way she was attempting to hack into Fin’s computer. This wasn’t Mission: Impossible. This was real life. Maybe an impossible mission, but her real life.
Her skittishness and nerves had been replaced by a fine sense of frustration. Dropping back into the chair, Jessie’s gaze moved around Fin’s beautifully appointed office, the monument to a Type A overachieving woman.
A woman, Jessie thought miserably, who probably wouldn’t want a reminder that she’d slipped up twenty-three years ago.
Maybe Jessie should just forget the whole thing. She knew Fin. And she liked her. Did she need more?
Yes. She needed to stop lying to a m
an she cared for. If there was any chance, any chance at all, then he had to know the truth behind what he’d heard her say. She’d been hurt and angry when she’d left his apartment last night, but during a sleepless night, she’d decided that she was asking a lot of him to just “believe” her. If they were going to have a chance, she’d have to tell him the truth. And she’d have to tell Fin.
She blew out a long, disgusted breath as she arrived back at square one.
The phone startled her out of her reverie. Reaching for it, Jessie pressed the talk button and copped her most professional voice. “Finola Elliott’s office. May I help you?”
“Jessie?” Fin’s voice lifted in surprise. “Is that you?”
“Oh, hello Fin. Chloe had to run out and I’m covering the phones.”
“Let me guess. Sale at Bloomie’s?”
Jessie chuckled, liking that Fin knew so much about her employees and kept all judgment out of her tone. “No, Saks.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re there. Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“On top of my credenza, I left a file on freelance writers. Can you grab it for me? I need a phone number for David Luongo.”
“No problem. Hold on a second, I’ll see if I can find it.”
The stand up file rack on the credenza held a few manila folders, and Jessie found one labeled Freelancers in a matter of seconds. “Here you go, Fin.” She read the requested number and closed the file.
“Thanks, Jessie. I appreciate the help. Did you get that hemline article proofed?”
“Sure did. It’ll go to production this afternoon.”
“Awesome. You’re doing a great job, Jessie. I’m going to get a little too dependent on you by the end of September.” Fin’s voice was rich with warmth and honesty.
And why did that send silly shivers of hope down her spine?
“Thanks, Fin. I’m having a blast.”
When they hung up, Jessie walked the folder back to its proper place, a smile tugging at her lips. Fin really liked her. They’d clicked.
How bad could it be for her to know the truth?
She’d come to New York to find out who her birth mother was. And now she knew. But it wasn’t enough. Now Jessie wanted a relationship with her.