Be Your Everything [All for Love] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (8 page)

Bryce complained about having yet another restaurant meal for lunch, Manny thinking wistfully of all the times Heather cooked for him on their seventeen dates, after the initial, obligatory fancy dining experience. Heather didn’t require fancy. She could make any place comfortable and homey, something Manny appreciated. He took heart from the fact Heather clearly enjoyed making him dinner. He knew enough about relationships to recognize her doing so made it more than dating. God, he missed her. And he needed to get a move on for his last scheduled appointment with Grayson.

Bryce was characteristically silent, preparing for the last stages of the investigation. The other man was like a pit bull and wouldn’t lose focus from here on in.

“I’m going back to my room. The troops are ready. Just the forensic accountants to brief this afternoon. See you at two.” Bryce stood. “Watch yourself with Grayson today, Manny, and with Heather.”

“It’ll be fine.” Manny could carry things off with Grayson, no problem, and he’d ask Heather to have dinner with him tonight. He didn’t tell Bryce, but Manny was definitely going to break procedure and tell Heather what was really going on, who he really was, and tell her she’d be interviewed in the morning.

“Hello, Heather.” Matthew’s deep, smooth voice made her breasts ache and she blessed the fact she’d had the foresight to wear a sculpted bra to hide her beading nipples. Stupid sex hormones.

She had felt him before he spoke, before she saw him. Once again he hadn’t made any noise. She’d wondered how such a big man could move so quickly and quietly. Well, now she knew. All that cop training paid off. Heather kept her body from tensing with great effort and breathed through the next seconds.
It was fun. Thanks for the great time, Matthew.
Her rehearsed response, just crass enough to take him off guard, at odds with her professed distaste for quick, dirty sex. Why had she told him about her criteria? All those confidences over all those dates. Not that many, in retrospect. Maybe he wouldn’t remember the criteria or remember her shy confession of love.

Raising her head, she smiled widely. “Good morning, Matthew! Nice to see you.” Was that too bubbly, too cheery? At least answering his recent texts had given her time to choose words innocuous enough to allay any suspicions and hold him at bay. After all, she wasn’t supposed to know he was in town. His eyes narrowed for a moment so maybe cheery and bubbly was over the top. She’d have to do better. Keep it friendly, superficial, but not too fake. Her pride was formidable and she’d see this through.
Right. Don’t cry. Crying makes you look weak. Good advice, Mom.

“Nice to see you, too, Heather.” There was a hint of concern in his voice. Maybe.

Heather rushed ahead. “Mr. Grayson is expecting you. You can go right in.”

“I’m early, sweetheart. I came early so I could talk to you.”

Blinking, she smiled again, feeling the strain in her cheeks. “Oh, okay. But he
is
waiting. He asked me first thing if you’d called to confirm or reschedule.”

Matthew cast a glance at her boss’s closed door. A strange expression crossed his handsome features and his sculpted mouth set more firmly. Heather resolutely pushed away all the thoughts elicited by the sight of that mouth. Manny was visibly conflicted and it had to do with Grayson. Well, of course it did. Matthew was some kind of cop and he was investigating Grayson. He’d pumped her dry of any tiny bit of information about her boss. She had dissected each and every conversation between them, and was amazed at how skilfully he’d interrogated her. At least he hadn’t done it while they were having sex. Not a great multitasker. Heather decided to push him, deflect his interest in Grayson’s direction, despite the fact it was probably better to get things over with, make sure he knew she was no longer interested in him. She’d buy herself a little more time for more rehearsing, adjust to the shock of seeing him again, and maybe have a little cry, too. Take that, Mom.

“I know he has a full day and has to leave right after your appointment.”

Manny nodded, searching her face with those chocolate eyes. Milk chocolate. They melted into swirling bittersweet during lovemaking. Correction. During sex. Her hand itched to push that lock of sable hair drifting over his forehead back into place, but she held steady against the need and kept her expression open and pleasant.

“Okay. I’ll see him now. I can pick you up for dinner at seven if that works. I really need to talk with you.”

Heather quailed inwardly but managed to meet his inquiring gaze. She guessed she didn’t have that extra time. “Dinner doesn’t work, Matthew, sorry. In fact, I should tell you now. It was fun. I had a great time. But I’ve, uh, moved on, and it wouldn’t be fair. Long distance relationships and all.”

Matthew froze and the expression on his face annoyed the crap out of her. He was incredulous. The arrogant prick. He thought she was so
enamored
with him she’d fall all over herself to see him again. Screw him again. Well, screw him period. Her hurt fury gave her the strength she needed. She gave him the sweetest, apologetic smile she could summon and turned back to her computer.

“Heather.” The tone in his voice, the authority, made her shift in her chair. God, she wanted him, wanted to be under him again, on top of him, on her knees before him. She was going to die from the lack.

Mr. Grayson’s door opened and her boss stuck his head out. Saved. “Thought I heard voices. Come in, Bourke. I’ve got a busy afternoon.”

Matthew stared at her for another long moment before walking to Grayson, his hand outstretched, a pleased smile on his face. Such a consummate actor. Heather might forgive herself for being taken in. In time. A very long time. The door closed behind them and she breathed again. Her hairline was damp with sweat and her palms ached where her nails dug in.
Okay. Breathe.
She had maybe an hour before Matthew came out and demanded an explanation. And he
was
going to demand one. She’d pricked his ego.

Should she plead illness and find a temp? But he might come to her home. But then again he might not. He’d used her, and that didn’t translate into him furthering his interest. It would be a lot of work for a bruised ego, but he might. No. She would stay and face the music, get it over with.

She typed industriously.
It was fun. Thanks for the great time. I had a great time but it’s over. I don’t do long distance relationships. I’m seeing someone else.
Over and over, like writing lines. Punishment. Those phrases didn’t belong in any document she should be working on, but practice made perfect and she was a visual learner. A tactile one, too, but who would notice, other than Matthew? She saved it under Lessons I Should Have Learned About Men. When her boss’s door finally opened again, she was prepared.

Matthew immediately approached her desk. Heather swiftly changed screens and looked up at him in what she hoped was a professionally inquiring manner. He set both of his big, capable hands on her desk and leaned on them, getting right in her space.

“Did you need to schedule another appointment?” She was proud of her professional, secretarial, helpful voice.

“No. I want you to tell me what’s up with the bullshit you laid on me earlier.”

Jeez. Right to the chase. He and Moesha should put their heads together and make a formidable team. “I thought I’d been clear, Matthew. I don’t want to date you again. I’m seeing someone else.” And a bolt of lightning would strike her dead for that whopper.

“In three days? You’ve met someone else in
three
days? Who?”

“That’s none of your business, Mr. Bourke.” She used the tone that worked so well with the upstarts in the department. He’d been counting, too. It confused and hurt her.

“It’s my business when I was in your bed four nights ago and you told me you loved me.”

The ridged edge of the screw on the underside of the top of her desk, the one she cursed every day for catching her hose or the material of her skirts and pants proved to be a lifesaver. Heather pressed her thigh against it, hard, the tiny bite of pain distracting from the sensation of her heart being pulled from her chest.

“That’s offensive, Mr. Bourke. If I thought you were the kind of man who spoke about his sexual conquests like that I’d never have allowed you to…” She couldn’t continue in that vein, because she’d have allowed him far more. She countered with her own form of rudeness. “Passion makes women say things they wouldn’t normally. Men, too, apparently, although you clearly have better control than most. I repeat, it was fun. Now, please leave me alone.”

Matthew didn’t move. He just kept staring at her. Heather stared back and ground her thigh into that raised piece of metal. She flinched back when he leaned forward. If he kissed her, he’d know. No way could she hide from him if he laid a finger on her.

Rolling her chair out of kissing range she prepared to stand and state her case. Mr. Grayson stormed out of his office and halted abruptly. “You’re still here?” His ghost-blue eyes looked at Matthew and then her. She couldn’t interpret his expression, but it was unsettling. Mr. G might have grasped the situation and that wouldn’t be anything good. He wouldn’t like the idea that she and Matthew were an “item,” just as he didn’t like her friendship with Moesha. Grayson actually cautioned her about talking out of turn, gossiping. Heather stood, petite in a room with two tall men, feeling at a total disadvantage.

“I’m heading out for the day, Heather. You have my schedule. Call me if anything changes. I’ll walk you to the elevator, Bourke, and give you a ride to the airport, seeing as your work here is finished. It’s on my way.”

Matthew winced. It was a minute reaction, but Heather saw it and wondered if her boss did. Matthew straightened and flexed his shoulders. His suit jacket fell into place and he impatiently shot his cuffs.

“Thanks, Grayson. It’ll save me finding a cab. My carry-on’s with security downstairs. Nice seeing you again, Miss Graham. Thanks for
all
your help.”

Heather avoided looking at either man as they exited her office, mumbling something that might have been a gracious acknowledgment of Matthew’s farewell. She sank back into her chair and kept a neutral look on her face, pretending to read something on the computer screen. When Matthew didn’t return after what she determined a suitable amount of time, she grabbed her purse and made her way to the restroom. Locking herself in a stall, she cried, flushing the toilet to cover up her sobs. Her phone beeped to signal a text and she dug through her bag to find it. Matthew. Heather turned off the phone without reading the message, and dropped it back into her purse. He must be on his way to the airport and her tears morphed into giggles, then gulps of hysterical mirth.

He’d asked her to dinner, so Mr. Grayson was taking Matthew on a fool’s errand. And he wouldn’t be able to come back to the office without a really convincing story. That might mean his undercover work was completed or interrupted but she had been saved further humiliation. Leaving the stall she washed her face free of tears at one of the sinks. There wasn’t much she could do about her swollen eyes. Only time would take care of that. Heather hadn’t allowed herself to cry until now and suspected there’d be lots of tears in her future. Double yay.

After reapplying her makeup she inspected the results. Her hair was one of her best features, thick, the blonde her own color, complete with natural highlights, if not the platinum favored by Chrystal. Heather released it from the clip, needing anything she could get to hide behind today. Dark-blue eyes, slightly reddened, the lower lids puffy. Dark lashes, now dry and no longer clumped with saltwater. She touched up the circles beneath her eyes with concealer and blotted her lipstick. She’d do. If anyone remarked on her appearance she’d say she had allergies. The workday stretched out endlessly but it was better than moping at home. Moesha was taking her out for dinner, and would want a full report. Maybe she’d type one and add to the Lessons I Should Have Learned About Men.

Yesterday afternoon had been utter hell for her, concentrating on her work so as not to alert Mr. Grayson that something was wrong, pretending to herself that the bottom of her world hadn’t fallen out. Last night didn’t bear thinking about. She had huddled on her couch in the dark, staring at nothing, the shell-pink roses stuffed into a garbage bag at her feet. He loves me, he loves me
not.
He used me, yes he did.
She had eventually fallen asleep sitting up, and woke with a terrible crick in her neck, and a dull headache.

For the first time in forever, Heather hadn’t showered that morning, merely washing her face before applying a considerable amount of makeup, dragging her hair up into a clip. She lacked the energy for anything else. Choosing her outfit without casting a glance at her bed, that piece of furniture far too poignant a reminder of her naivety, was an exercise in futility. She supposed she would have to sleep in it at some point and resolved to do so as soon as possible. Kind of like getting back on the horse…bad analogy.

Heather had one goal in mind, made roughly ten minutes after she saw Matthew in the police station, one goal she fixated on with intensity. Get Matthew out of her life in as painless and efficient a manner as possible, and spare her further heartbreak. Funny how achieving that goal didn’t leave her with much sense of accomplishment.

* * * *

What the hell was that all about? Manny followed the walkway to ground transportation, hefting his carry-on. Grayson dropped him at the departure entrance, thanking him again for his input, asking him to stop by if ever in the area again. The other man effectively put paid to his planned conversation with Heather. Manny cursed inventively and muttered a quick apology to the two shocked faces of the women walking just in front of him. The drive to the airport had been fraught with tension and he tried to sort out if it was Heather’s sudden blow off resonating in his head, or if Grayson had caught wind of the something coming down. His final meeting with the man felt off, but Manny wasn’t at his best to judge and knew it.