Neck & Neck (40 page)

Finn was about to tell him there was no time like the present, but a loud thumping at the door to his suite prevented him. He lifted a finger in the internationally recognized sign language for
Hold that thought,
then strode back into his own room to answer the door. For a moment, he steeled himself for the possibility that it might be someone from the media, even though the hotel staff had been given express orders not to let anyone near Russell’s suite. Or Russell’s floor, for that matter. Nevertheless, Finn was surprised to discover it wasn’t a member of the media on the other side of the door at all.

It was Natalie. A woman who’d been hovering at the back of his brain ever since he’d dropped her off at her house the night before, and whose face kept materializing in his brain every time Russell looked at Ginny the way he kept doing.

“Natalie,” he said by way of a greeting, his surprise—and pleasure—evident in his tone.

Instead of looking happy to see him, the way he was happy to see her, she looked frightened and panicky. Instead of the always-well-put-together woman—well, except for last night, when he’d kidnapped her in the men’s underwear he assumed was supposed to pass for pajamas—she was a mess. Her hair was in a lopsided ponytail, her blue jeans had a rip in one knee, and her sweatshirt, emblazoned with the words, I Bleed Red and Black, was about ten sizes too big. And her shoes . . . Well, evidently, she either didn’t realize or didn’t care that one was a black Converse All-Star sneaker and the other was what to his admittedly untrained eye appeared to be a clunky brown sandal of some kind. And both were meant for the left foot.

“Finn, you have to listen to me,” she said breathlessly.

She splayed both hands wide on his chest and pushed him back a few feet, then came into the suite, slammed the door behind her, and shot the dead bolt, as if she intended to lock him inside. Then she did the splayed hands on the chest thing again.

“It wasn’t me,” she said, her eyes pleading, her fingers curling tight into the fabric of his shirt. “I wasn’t the one who said anything. I swear it. You have to believe me.”

He shook his head in confusion, covering her hands with his to tug them from his shirt. But she tightened her grip and jerked hard, pulling his head down until his face was a scarce inch away from her own.

“It wasn’t me,” she said again, more desperately this time. She punctuated the statement with a vigorous shake of his shirt. “You have to believe me.”

“Natalie, what are you talking about?” he asked, concern rising in his belly. Had she run into Waterman again? Done the drinking game thing again? Then again, running into Waterman
without
the benefit of alcohol could probably do a person even more harm. “What wasn’t you? Natalie, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

Her eyes widened at that, though whether it was a result of the question or the endearment, he wasn’t sure. Then again, the endearment had come as a surprise to him, too, and he was the one who’d uttered it.

She relaxed her hold on his shirt some, but she still clung to him, close enough that he could inhale that soft scent of her that had haunted him since day one. “You haven’t heard yet?” she asked.

“Heard what? What are you talking about?” he repeated.

“The story on the news. About Max.”

“Oh, that.”

Now she gaped at him. “Oh, that?” she echoed incredulously. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“We’re working on it,” he told her. Hell, he was way more worried about her at this point. “What else is there to say?”

She finally released his shirt, dropping her hands to her sides. “What else . . .” she repeated, her voice trailing off. “Aren’t you going to blame me for it?”

Finn circled back to confusion again. “Why would I blame you?”

Her mouth dropped open for a moment again, then she snapped it shut. “Oh, I don’t know, Mr. How-do-I-know-you-didn’t-sleep-with-me-to-get-closer-to-my-boss Guthrie. Maybe because—”

“She slept with you to get closer to me?”

Finn spun around to find that he and Natalie had an audience, and probably had since the minute Finn left Russell’s suite to return to his own. Russell, obviously, had been the one who spoke, but Ginny and Hazel were staring, rapt, too. Russell gazed at Finn with laughing eyes, then turned his attention to Natalie.

“Natalie, you didn’t have to seduce this reprobate to talk to me. You could have just picked up the phone and called me.”

“I did,” she said. “But you never returned my—” She broke off, shook her head as if to clear it, then said, “That wasn’t why I slept with him.”

“Then why did you?” This came not from Russell, but from Hazel. “I mean, I wouldn’t throw ’im outta bed for eating crackers, but then it’s been a while for me, you know?”

“Because I—” She halted again, her gaze moving from Russell to Hazel, to Ginny, then back to Finn. “Who are these people?”

Before Finn could answer her, Russell said, “Family, Natalie. They’re family. You can speak freely here.”

She expelled a restless sound and lifted her hand to anxiously rub her forehead. “Maybe you can, Russell,” she said. “But not everyone feels the way you do. Not everyone . . . is as trusting as you are.”

Russell looked amazed at that. “You’re not trusting, Natalie? See, that surprises me, because I’d trust you with my life.”

Now Natalie made a strangled sound. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t talking about me, but that shows how much you know.”

“What do you mean?” Russell asked.

“You haven’t seen the local news since yesterday, have you?” Finn asked him.

He shook his head. “Ginny and I were, ah, busy last night. And this morning, after we saw the
Investigator
, we came to the hotel. I asked Ginny and Maisy and Hazel to come, just in case someone made the connection between me and Ginny and started harassing them, too.”

“Yeah, well, in light of that story, this other one is going to seem like nothing, but Natalie did get you into a little trouble yesterday.”

She made another one of those strangled sounds, so Finn took it upon himself to explain about the announcement of Russell’s appearance at the party Friday night, ending with “But Natalie has promised to get it all straightened out and send a retraction to the paper and news stations.” He threw a meaningful look at Natalie. “Right, Natalie? You and Mrs. Hotchkiss are going to send out a retraction today?”

“Hotchkiss?” Ginny repeated. “Clementine Hotchkiss?”

Finn wouldn’t have thought there would be that many people named Hotchkiss giving a party this Friday night, but he said, “I don’t know. I guess so.”

“Yes, it’s Clementine’s party,” Natalie said. She started to say more, but Ginny inadvertently cut her off.

“That’s the benefit for Kids, Inc.,” she said. “It’s supposed to raise like three hundred thousand dollars for the group.”

Natalie nodded disconsolately. Equally disconsolate was her voice when she said, “Well, that was what Clementine hoped, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.”

“Why not?” Ginny asked. “Maisy’s involved with that group. They’re wonderful. And they could really use the money.”

“Believe me, I know,” Natalie agreed. “And I did everything I could to make it happen. But there’s just too much competition for parties that night. I sent invitations to tons of celebrities, and they’re all already committed elsewhere. Celebrities are what bring in the guests, and without them . . .” She shrugged. Disconsolately, Finn couldn’t help noting. “No guests, no contributions. No contributions, no check for Kids, Inc. That’s why I was trying so hard to get Russell to attend. He’d be a major draw. Mysterious, handsome, reclusive billionaire. Celebrity du jour just about every jour of the week. People would be lining up just to get a glimpse of him, never mind the opportunity to shake his hand.”

Russell had been listening to the exchange with much interest, Finn noted, certainly more than he’d shown when Natalie had tried to pitch the idea before. “So, if I agree to go to this party, lots of money will go to this Kids, Inc., thing that’s helping Maisy so much?”

“And scores of other kids, too,” Natalie told him, sounding vaguely hopeful. “And now, with this story about you and Max breaking . . . Woo. I bet we could get twice as many people to come. Twice as much money for Kids, Inc.,” she added, her voice moving from hopeful to coaxing. “Of course, it will mean a lot of last-minute changes, but hey, I’m a professional. I can handle it.”

Russell smiled, “Well, Natalie, dear, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

She gaped at that. “You mean . . . ?”

“Of course I’ll come to Mrs. Hootchimama’s party.” He turned to look at Max, in a way that Finn hadn’t seen him look at the boy in a long, long time. With absolute, unmitigated love. “Maybe Max would like to come, too, to really stir things up.”

Max went pale for a minute, then looked at his father, his mouth already opening to speak. But when he saw the way Russell was looking at him, he closed his mouth again.

“What do you say, Maxie?” Russell asked, using the nickname he hadn’t uttered since Max was a toddler. “You want to go public with this thing in a big way?”

Max inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. Then another. And another. Gradually, the color returned to his face. And, gradually, so did a smile. “I guess it has to happen sooner or later, huh?”

“I’m afraid so,” Russell told him. “Finn and I did our best to protect you for as long as we could. But there’s no going back now.”

Max’s gaze went from his father to Finn and back again. “And you guys did a great job. I guess it’s pretty amazing that no one found out before now. And it’s my own fault anyone did.”

Finn supposed that, someday, they’d all look back on this moment and realize it was the one when Max went from being a fun-loving, innocent kid to a fun-loving, experienced young man. For now, though, he figured they should just let Max work through it.

The kid hesitated a minute, as if he were trying to work out a few things, then looked not at his dad or at Finn, but at Maisy. “I guess I’d need a date if I’m going to a party,” he said.

Maisy’s eyes went wide and her cheeks went pink. “Uhhh . . .” she began eloquently. “My mom says I can’t date ’til I’m sixteen.”

Her mother smiled and slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s okay if you double with me,” she said. “Assuming I’m invited, too?” she added, throwing Russell a meaningful look.

He grinned at her, again in a way that Finn hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I figured that went without saying,” he said.

“Good,” Ginny replied. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

Russell took her free hand in his, lifted it to his mouth and placed a chaste kiss at the center of her palm. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, we are
definitely
on the same page.”

At the gritty, in no way delicate clearing of a throat, Russell added, “And of course, no party would be complete without the presence of the illustrious Hazel Lenski.”

Hazel fairly beamed at that. Well, okay, maybe
beamed
was pushing it. But she didn’t look quite as, ah, shady as before. “Thanks, Russ, you’re all right. Guess I won’t have to kick your ass after all.” She thought for a minute before muttering, “You think I could get Johnny Depp to come to this thing with me? He’s a Kentucky boy, you know.”

Maisy still didn’t seem any too comfortable with the idea of attending the party with Max, though whether that was because she didn’t like the kid or because she did was anyone’s guess. Thinking back to when he was that age, though, Finn was guessing it was the latter. Liking someone made you way more uncomfortable than not liking them.

And on that note . . .

As the others returned to Russell’s suite, Finn turned to Natalie.

“Why did you think I would blame you for leaking the story about Max?” he asked. Though by the time he finished the question, he already knew the answer. Because he’d blamed her for leaking the story about Russell going to the Hotchkiss party. But then, she
had
been the primary source for that one. Then again, Russell
was
going to be attending. Still, it had never entered his mind that Natalie would be the one to—

It had never entered his mind
, he thought again. Not once. Even though that night they’d been together, he’d been afraid she’d figured things out about Max, he’d realized later that she’d only been throwing something out wildly to counter his wild accusation about her sleeping with him to get to Russell. He knew Natalie well enough to know she would never do anything to compromise the safety or happiness of a fourteen-year-old boy. Hell, he knew Natalie well enough to know she would never do anything to compromise the safety or happiness of anyone.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he knew quite a bit about Natalie. He’d learned more about her in less than two weeks than he’d learned about anyone since Russell. And he hadn’t even been trying. She’d just kind of gotten under his skin. Worked her way into the recesses of his brain. Walked into his thoughts when he least expected it and into his dreams when he couldn’t help it. It was almost as if she’d become a part of him. Almost as if he’d fallen in . . . fallen for her.

“I would never suspect you of doing something like that, Natalie,” he said in response to his own question. “Never.”

Her brows arrowed downward, and she crossed her arms defensively over her midsection. “You’ve been suspicious of me since the minute you met me.”

Okay, he’d give her that one. “But only for a minute,” he told her, smiling, knowing it was true. “I stopped being suspicious once I found out you were an event planner.” His smile grew broader. “After that, you became a nuisance.”

“Hey!” She swatted him on the arm. “I am
not
a nuisance.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” he agreed.

“Then what am I now?”

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, dipping his head to press his mouth quickly, lightly, to hers. “Well, let’s just put it this way, Natalie. Like Russell said, we have a lot to talk about.”