Dinner with the Billionaire (Erotic Romance) (Rendezvous with the Billionaire Book 2) (4 page)

We switched, with me whispering at her. “Do you think it’s a trick?” I didn’t want to think so, but needed to be prepared just in case. “Can they lie like that?”

Carmen nodded slightly, “They can, but they’re probably not. You were never a good suspect in the first place.” She leaned away from me and nodded for the detectives to rejoin us at the table. They both sat, and O’Hara laid a folder out in front of us.

“How well do you know Evan Daringer?” O’Hara asked.

I froze and I could feel my eyes bulge out. Before I could control my expression I knew both O’Hara and Santiago had noticed it. “He’s my boss.” I finally told them. Carmen seemed satisfied with my answer, at least.

“And that’s all he is?” asked Santiago.

I didn’t want to lie to them, but even I wasn’t exactly certain of what the truth was. I shrugged, getting the tiniest bit of control of my emotions. “We’ve flirted a bit, but it’s not like we’re dating or anything.” I glanced back over at Carmen and took her expression to indicate that I should stop talking. I did.

It took a minute for me to think, I hadn’t told them about Evan at all, and I didn’t want to break my word to him now. So either they were fishing since we worked together, or it had to do with Nicholas Bitterman. “Is that why he took my pictures?” I guessed, “Because of Evan…Daringer.” I added his last name after a second, trying not to sound too familiar with him.

“It’s a possibility,” Santiago told me. “If you can think of any other reason why Mr. Bitterman may have wanted a photo album made entirely of you, let us know. Otherwise, you’re free to go.”

And so we left. Carmen and I parted ways after a brief farewell and I went home to my overcrowded apartment, more or less free of worries for the first time in weeks. The cops didn’t think I killed that guy, and they probably weren’t going to arrest me for murder.

The good news just kept coming. My cell phone rang seconds after I stepped through the door and I had to fumble to get ahold of it before the caller hung up. I didn’t recognize the number but was in such a good mood that I answered the call anyway. “This is Amy.”

“Hey,” said a vaguely familiar masculine voice, “It’s Dylan.”

Mr. Deli. I’d written him off as a lost cause but smiled with the memory of our lunch. “Hey!” It came out more excited than I wanted, but I didn’t care. This was turning into one of the best Sunday nights in recent memory. “What’s up?”

Dylan let out a small laugh, it must have been at my tone. “I meant to call you earlier, I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

I made a dismissive noise, it was far from lady like. “You’re calling now, it’s all right.”

“No,” he insisted, “It’s not, and I need to make it up to you.”

I crossed through the apartment, the prying eyes of two roommates following me as I entered my room and shut the door. From the expressions on their faces, I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to listen in. And still, I didn’t care. “Okay, how are you going to do that?”

“I’ve got tickets to this play at this tiny little theater. My friend’s in the show and she promises me that it’s worth it. And dinner after, what do you think?” He actually sounded nervous as he asked.

“I think I’ll see you then,” I replied. We set it up for Wednesday and hung up. I collapsed back onto my bed laughing. I felt a little drunk, giddy and so weightless that I wanted to scream it to the world.

Things, for once, actually were looking up.

Work picked up and I was ready to throw myself into it. And I wasn’t trying to avoid Evan anymore, not even after our little exchange in the conference room. Monday was a brand new day and I was a girl with a date who wasn’t looking at murder charges. And that second fact was still so exciting that I’d had trouble sleeping the night before, nearly bouncing with barely contained energy while I tried to calm myself down. Maricela was not happy with me, but I’d behaved as best as I could, given the circumstances.

Despite the lack of sleep, I felt well rested in the morning and arrived at work nearly ten minutes earlier than I normally did. The elevator was even empty, nearly unheard of at that time of morning. But just as the doors were closing, a hand shot through, the suited arm blocking the doors from shutting completely. They popped back open and Evan Daringer stepped in.

He looked a bit winded, as if he’d run to catch the elevator, but I didn’t think he’d done it to make sure he was in there with me. Other than a polite nod, he said nothing. The elevator ride would only take a minute, which gave me just enough time to say what I wanted before we got out.

“Thanks for Carmen. She really saved my ass with the cops.” I said it quickly, but I thought it was clear enough.

However, Evan shot me a confused look. “Who’s Carmen?”

I had to stare at him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t joking. But he seemed utterly serious. “Carmen Brown, the attorney who’s been representing me with the police?” She wasn’t conning me or something, was she? I mean, she seemed like a real attorney, and the cops had respected her. “She said that you hired her to represent me.”

Evan shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that.” He did actually look stricken. I guessed that in his world everyone just automatically had lawyers that they could call up at the drop of a hat. “If I had, of course I would have covered that. But I didn’t retain anyone.”

I saw the number ticking up past twenty on the digital screen. We were running out of time. “If it wasn’t you, than who was it? I mean, she knew that I worked here, that I was at the hotel, and I think she knew that we were there together.” His face tightened when I mentioned it, but I rolled my eyes, deciding not to be insulted. “What? I’m only talking to you, I think that falls under the parameters of the agreement.”

We passed floor twenty-five when Evan spoke. “Did she say what firm she was with?” He asked.

I couldn’t remember. “Maybe? I don’t think so. Are you sure you didn’t just forget?” I didn’t mean to ask it, especially not in the overly familiar tone that popped out.

But Evan’s mouth ticked up at the corner as if he found my inquiry funny. “No, it’s not something I just forgot.” We passed floor thirty-two when he took a step closer to me and for a second I thought he was going to put a hand on my arm. He’d touched pretty much all of me, so I don’t know why that seemed any different, but he curled his fingers in at the last moment and kept just enough distance. “I’ll look into it.” He paused, “If that’s all right with you?”

I nodded and the ‘ding’ indicated that we had reached our floor. We didn’t say anything further, simply walking silently down the hall and splitting up, him to go to his office and me to check out my computer for the morning. No one even commented on the fact we were near each other, it felt weird, but we looked completely normal. Maybe I was finally getting the hang of secrecy when it came to him.

As I got myself set up for the day, I tried to figure out who could have hired Carmen if it wasn’t Evan. And I didn’t think he was lying to me. What would be the point? Yeah, he might have that weird tic about relationships, but nothing I’d seen from him indicated that he would play games like that. When she’d told me that whoever retained her had wanted to keep quiet, I’d assumed it had to be Evan. But now I had to wonder, who else in the company would retain counsel for me? And why?

Over the course of the rest of the day, I nearly forgot about our conversation. It still played in the back of my head, but from the moment I sat down at the workbench I was absorbed with preliminary work that I needed to do for a new account along with feathers that needed to be soothed with a longstanding client. Before I even knew what was happening it was three o’clock and I made myself spare ten minutes to eat a yogurt before diving right back into work. I knew without a doubt that I’d be working late.

But between spoonfuls in the deserted break room, my cell phone rang. I quickly gulped down the vanilla treat and set it on the counter, answering my phone in my most professional voice. “Amy Bowen speaking.”

“Yes, hello, this is Beatrice Yu from J. Calendar and Co..”

I jerked my head around to make sure no one could hear me and carefully eased the break room door closed. “Hi,” I said, keeping my voice low but bright. I didn’t want to be overheard.

We exchanged pleasantries before Ms. Yu said, “You’ve moved up to the second round of interviews for our junior director position. I’m calling to set that up.”

My hand shot up in the air in victory and I did a little dance of happiness. And I was then glad for more than one reason that I was alone and the door closed. I didn’t want to have to live down that level of embarrassment. “That’s great,” I finally said, trying to sound calm.

It only took a few minutes, but we set it up for the beginning of next week and I nearly skipped back to my computer. The week just kept looking up.

The next time I took a break from my work, the sun was already setting, and since it was summer that meant it had to be getting late. I looked at the clock on my computer and winced. As if just realizing that the only thing I’d had to eat all day was a yogurt, but my stomach chose that moment to revolt, growling loudly into the empty office space. At least I was alone. All of the other associates had gone home long before me. But I still had just a little bit more work to do. I decided that if I just finished up one last report, about thirty minutes of work, I could pick up a sandwich and eat it before I got home.

“Are we starving you now?” Evan asked, standing in the doorway of his office.

I swiveled my head around to look at him. I’d thought that he’d long since gone home, but he was here with me, burning the midnight – well, 8PM – oil. “Can’t you see they chain me to the desk?” I asked.

He smiled, “Are you sticking around for a while? I was going to order some food, they’ll deliver if I order enough for two.” He said it casually, but there was something about his tone that made me pause.

My first instinct was to turn him down. Eating with him would add at least an hour on to my planned time to leave, but on the other hand, it was – presumably – a free meal, and there was a growing part of me that wanted to get to know him. Just a little. So I said, “Dinner sounds nice,” and tried to get finished up with the rest of my work before the food arrived.

About twenty minutes later he walked out of his office and returned with a bag full of steaming boxes. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it smelled delicious. Only as he set it up in his office did I realize that he hadn’t asked me what I wanted to eat. Oh well, I wasn’t too picky so I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

“It’s ready,” he called out.

I took one final look at my latest spreadsheet and decided that I’d done enough for the night. I saved it and shut down the computer. As I walked into his office, I asked, “So what are we eating?”

Evan had set the food and plates on a little table against one of the walls where he had two guest chairs set up. “Chinese, I hope that’s all right?” He paused for a moment, “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

“Beestings, but I unless you were really adventurous I think I’ll be fine.” I sat down in the chair that looked out over the city, taking in the bright lights of the office buildings and the zooming lights of the cars down so far away on the street. “It’s a nice view.”

He sat opposite me and threw a quick glance over his shoulder, “I suppose.”

“You can see the Empire State Building from your office, and you just suppose?” I laughed and spooned out some rice onto my paper plate. Fine dining indeed. “So what’s keeping you here so late?” Not that I paid attention to his usual schedule or anything, but he wasn’t known for keeping long hours.

Evan grinned, “Did you know that if you take two weeks of vacation and ignore your email the work keeps piling up? My father threatened to disown me if I ever did that again.” There was a tiny laugh in his words so I assumed that he wasn’t serious.

“You didn—” I stopped myself from asking. There was teasing and then there was overstepping.

He raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t what?”

But I shook my head and he let it drop. “This is good,” I said a few minutes later, looking to fill the silence.

“I should hope so, I had it flown in from this tiny place in Boston.” He sounded completely serious, his face blank.

I nodded, “Of course.” I picked up the bag and showed him the label, “It’s just strange how they must have stopped at Mr. Chan’s China House on 34
th
to bag it up, don’t you think?”

He put his hands over his heart and made a tiny sound of hurt, “You don’t believe me? I’m distraught.”

I threw the bag at him, one of the soy sauce packets still inside whipped around and hit him on the cheek.

He laughed and tossed it back towards me, but I batted it away and it landed on top of the white rice. Luckily we’d made such a dent in that container that only a grain or two spilled out.

An alarm went off on his phone and he had to rush across the room to shut it off. I just watched him and didn’t try to fight the smile that was blooming on my face. On his way back to the table he quietly closed the door. “The cleaning people come in at 9:00, I don’t like to make it weird for them.”

“Weird how?”

He shrugged, settling back into his seat. He loosed his tie before he spoke, “I don’t want them to think I’m watching them or will report them for whatever.” He grabbed his tie once more, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the desk. That left him in just his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show some very nicely tanned forearms, and dark gray trousers. Working late chic. And despite how long he’d been in the office, he didn’t look tired.