Champagne Cravings (15 page)

Remember That Sticky Web of Seduction I Mentioned a
While Back?

I continued to hold Mike to me, though my mind whirled.
Myriad emotions crashed over me. Some of them good. Some…not so much.

When I got my breathing under control, I shoved him away. He
withdrew from me and flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Sitting, I glared at him. “You tried to keep that from me.”

“Yeah.” He was still dragging in sharp breaths of air. “I
knew I was feeling it before tonight, but when we were together in the foyer… I
only barely managed to tamp it down.”

“So you thought if you fucked me instead, you could keep
from saying it?”

He let out a hollow laugh. “I knew if I made love to you
again, I’d blurt it out. Turns out, it doesn’t matter how we get it on. I still
feel the same.”

My heart melted. I said, “Wow. That’s the nicest thing
anyone’s ever said to me.”

He groaned. “I’m not good with romantic, flowery sentiments.
You should know this about me already.”

“I don’t know. It was eloquent enough to give me
butterflies.”

His head rolled on the pillow and he stared at me. “You’re
not going to yell?”

I shook my head. “As twisted as it is, I get it. You tried
to stave off some of the emotion by hammering into me. But geez, Mike. We’re
explosive together no matter how we do it.”

His jaw clenched. Then he sat up and threw his legs over the
edge of the mattress. He raked a hand through his dark, tousled hair and stood.

As he stalked into my bathroom, I frowned. He was miffed.

Okay, I realized I hadn’t returned the sentiment, but he had
to know I wasn’t ready to. Despite having some very intense feelings for him, I
wasn’t at the point where I could digest or give into the
ultimate
feeling. At the same time, I didn’t mind that he’d said it.

But something told me that wasn’t what had him agitated. I
had a feeling it had more to do with the fact he’d insisted we wait until we
were ready to make love and then he’d gone and reneged on the grand plan by
fucking me.

When he came back to bed, he settled in beside me, but
didn’t say anything further.

I snuggled close and rested my head on his chest as he
draped an arm over my shoulders.

I said, “First of all, it’s apparent that any way we want to
have sex is the right way for us. Second, you’re more upset about telling me
you love me than I am about hearing it. Isn’t that backward?”

His sexy grunt filled the quiet room. “I told you I didn’t
want to push too hard too fast.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you take this one back either.
I appreciate that you’re being so open with me. I want to be the same way. I
just need time to…assimilate, remember? Get a grip, you know?”

“I’m not purposely rushing things between us, Lace. I
swear.” He let out another half-laugh that held no humor. “Yet that’s exactly
what I’m doing.”

I was quiet a moment, then asked, “Do you think it was just
the sex? I mean, apparently I seem to inspire professions of love when I’m in
the bedroom.” Which, of course, was a dismal realization on so many levels,
since those professions had never translated to
real
love. I would hate
for that to be the case with Mike.

He was quick to say, “It wasn’t the sex. You’re damn good,
make no mistake. But I told you, I was feeling it before you stared into my
eyes and came. I was feeling it before you held me close and called me Michael.
I was feeling it before you squeezed me tight and sent me over the edge. I just
hadn’t embraced it until all of those things happened.”

“Huh.”

With a sigh, he suggested, “Why don’t we ignore it for now?”

I considered this. Probably the most sensible thing to do. I
didn’t want him thinking the significant sentiment or saying it when I hadn’t
reciprocated. At the same time… I was twenty shades of sheer giddiness over his
admission.

But I wanted to be fair. So I told him, “Maybe we should
sleep on it.”

He chuckled. This time it didn’t sound tormented. “That’s a
very good idea.”

I kissed his chest. He kissed the top of my head. I’m not
sure either one of us got a full night’s sleep, given the words that still
lingering in the air.

* * * * *

I woke the next morning to the sound of my shower running.
Mike had left me and that both perplexed and concerned me.

As I sat up and pushed the covers off me, he came out of the
bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips.

“Hey,” I said, “you broke your promise to me.”

He drew up short, shooting me a confused look.

“You said the next time you used my shower, I’d be in it
with you,” I reminded him.

He grunted. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Where’s the fire?” I asked as I consulted the clock. It was
only five a.m.

Coming farther into the room, he grabbed his iPhone from the
nightstand and handed it over. I stared blankly at the incoming email address,
not even bothering to read the message.

“What’s up?” I asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Perched on the edge of the mattress, he said, “I have to fly
to Dallas. The FBI is reopening the Portman case based on my findings. The
insurance investigator I’m working with is meeting me at JFK this morning.”

I mulled this over instead of instantly reacting to it. Mike
clearly knew the direction in which my thoughts ran.

He said, “Chris emailed me after we’d gone to bed, but I
didn’t check my phone until this morning. It’s bad timing, Lace, I know. But I
assure you, this has nothing to do with last night.”

“Yeah, sure. Because usually in situations like this, it’s
the person who
didn’t
say ‘I love you’ who wants distance.”

I swung my legs over the opposite side of the bed and stood.
As I marched toward the bathroom, he said, “Come on, Lace. Don’t just walk
away.”

Whirling around, I said, “Go to Dallas. Whatever.”

Irrational of me, yes. But he wasn’t exactly being sane
either.

Unfortunately, as I reached for the knob to turn the shower
on, the supermodel’s teary-eyed face from Saturday night at Velage—as she’d
agonized over Piper leaving her—flashed in my mind. I pulled my hand back and
returned to the bedroom, where Mike still sat on the side of my bed.

Squaring my shoulders, I restated my previous comment in a
calmer, less bitchy tone. “Go to Dallas. It’s fine. You get to work with the
FBI on a cold case. That’s very cool. Everything will be fine between us.”

He got to his feet and crossed to where I stood. Gripping my
shoulders, he said, “I don’t want to leave you like this. I’m sorry.”

Forcing a smile, I said, “I have work to do too. What’s
happening between us can’t consume our lives. We still need our paychecks.”

His head dipped and he kissed me. “We’ll talk when I get
back.”

Those were not words I wanted to hear. They were too vague
and too foreboding, scaring me into thinking he regretted his admissions and
needed to retract them. Or put space between them. Between us.

But I wasn’t inclined to push the envelope with him this
morning.

Unfortunately, I could easily drown in fears of him meeting
someone in Dallas or falling off the wagon because things hadn’t gone smoothly
for us late last night or early this morning.

I didn’t want to be that person. I wanted to be the one who
trusted him, as I’d said I did.

“Let me know when you’re coming back,” I told him, trying to
keep my tone light.

He said, “I’ll call you from the airport and give you my
flight information.”

“Great.” When he didn’t move, I insisted, “Go. Do your job.
Rub elbows with the FBI. You know you’re dying to, and I don’t blame you. I’d
even ask to tag along for the experience, if I didn’t have my own case to
solve.”

His grin was a tight one. “I’ll be in touch.”

He headed toward the doorway, since his clothes were still
in the foyer. I waited for him to turn back to me and tell me he loved me.

He didn’t.

* * * * *

I tried not to dwell on that latter fact as I prepared to
make an appearance at Elan—and tell Mav what I’d discovered.

I called his executive assistant on the way to the office.

“Mr. Linnear’s office, how may I help you?” she asked in her
delicate voice.

“Hi, Christine. This is Lacey Mansfield calling.”

“Oh hi, Lacey,” she said. “You’re looking for Mav?”

I had the transcripts in my laptop bag and was anxious to
show them to him. Though I didn’t relish the potential repercussions for Anne
Dunley. I didn’t know the woman, but she could be a very lovely person. Someone
who’d gotten caught up in a scandal for the money or the attention. I’d seen
both.

To Christine, I asked, “Is it possible to get on Mav’s
calendar this morning? It’s urgent.”

“He instructed me to always make time for you, so yes. When
will you be in?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“I’ll alert him,” she told me. “See you soon.”

I disconnected the call and contemplated how I was going to
tactfully probe Mav about Olivia, especially after letting him know of my
suspicion there were two saboteurs—and one was likely interested in public
disgrace for personal reasons.

There were still plenty of media outlets hanging around the
front of the building, though security did a fine job keeping them out of the
lobby. Until another corporate scandal broke, they’d beat this one to a bloody
pulp. I skirted the crowd and flashed my badge to gain access. Then I went
straight to Mav’s office.

“He’s expecting you,” Christine said as she opened his door
for me. She was an attractive woman, around forty-five or six, who always
looked polished and professional. I liked her immensely.

“Thanks, Christine. I don’t know how long we’ll be.”

“I’ll push back his meetings if necessary.”

She left us alone and I entered the spacious office,
decorated in an elegant and sophisticated fashion. Mav wore a complex
expression, a cross between anticipation and dread. His shoulders bunched in
his well-tailored designer suit, this one in charcoal gray with a crisp white shirt
and silk tie in silver.

“How’s the company faring?” I asked as he stood to greet me
with a handshake.

“Some surprises,” he told me as we both sat. “Stock is up
and initial sales reports this morning indicate buyers are snatching up our
products like crazy, which means distribution will be on the rise this week.”

“That’s wonderful news.” So Biel had been right. The media
frenzy drove sales. Such a clever girl.

But Mav wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies this morning.
“With the exception of our new line. No one’s touching it.”

“Oh.” My heart sank. I felt bad for him—and I feared this
might be a career hiccup for Biel.

“Anyway,” Mav continued, “I’ve decided to re-launch the
line. Obviously, we need to prove it’s the absolute best waterproof makeup on
the market or no one will stock it on their shelves and they’ll dump it from
their catalogs. Because it’s a very high-end line, I need Barneys, Harrods,
Neiman Marcus, Bergdorf-Goodman, Bloomingdale’s and the like on board. We’ll be
taking a huge hit if we can’t generate sales.”

“Wow, a re-launch.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t
a corporate bigwig, so I had no idea if his approach was a sound one or if he
was just bailing water in a sinking ship. I hoped for the former, of course.

“As it turns out,” he told me, “Biel’s birthday is tomorrow.
I have my marketing and PR team recreating the launch at the Montlimiere, only
this time, the guest list will be pared down and specific to our goals. Less
star-power and more industry professionals. Department store buyers, fashion
magazine editors, product reviewers, et cetera.”

And the supermodel. He was giving her a second chance, which
made him aces in my book.

“I’m sure it’ll all go off without a hitch this time.”
Especially if I was right about Olivia. Which brought me to the reason for my
visit. “I think I’ve solved our mystery.”

He perked up. “I was hoping that was why you wanted to see
me.”

“The problem is,” I told him as I opened my laptop case and
extracted the stack of transcripts, “I believe we’re looking at two separate
incidents with more than one culprit.”

His dark brown eyes narrowed on me. “What did you find out?”

“First,” I said, handing over the documents, “your leak is
in the marketing department.” Which would send that particular VP into another
tizzy. “Her name is Anne Dunley. Luckily, she’s out of the office the rest of
the week, so she won’t divulge anymore trade secrets if you still have some
under your hat.”

He took the papers and skimmed them. I’d made notes in the
margins as I’d deciphered the riddles.

Continuing, I told him, “Anne is the assistant in the
department. She’s been out of the office for a week and won’t return for
another one. I’ve sent an email to the person she was corresponding with, since
it didn’t match the blogger’s email addy. Though my guess is they’re one in the
same. Of course, I haven’t heard anything back. I doubt I need to. I’m sure
with this incriminating evidence in hand, Anne will have no choice but to come
clean.”

He set the transcripts on the desk and reached for the
phone. “Christine, I want Thomas Baker and Marcy Kemper in my office
immediately.”

The VPs of marketing and Human Resources, respectively.

Mav turned his attention to me. “You don’t think Anne Dunley
is behind the launch debacle?”

“No. There’s nothing in her email transcripts that would
indicate she was involved with the replacement of the cosmetics, or gave
information on how it could be pulled off.” I shifted in my chair,
uncomfortable with this portion of our discussion.

Mav noticed. “You think you know who swapped the products?”