Rendezvous with the Billionaire: A Billionaire Workplace Romance (7 page)

I couldn't focus at my desk. I only sat there for about three seconds before I scooped up my purse and headed for the elevators. It was a beautiful day outside and just about lunch time. But my trip was almost cut short in the elevator bank. The pair of detectives who'd been given supporting actress roles in my nightmares were standing in the lobby. I tried to duck out of the way, but Detective O'Hara saw me before I could hide.

She had long dark hair and olive skin. Hard brown eyes and cheekbones that could cut, but I hadn't noticed until this moment that she wasn't very tall, in fact, I thought she was shorter than me. Her partner, Detective Santiago, was the tall one, probably close to six feet with ice blond hair and blue eyes. But her face was nice, someone you could trust. If she wasn't investigating you for murder.

"Ms. Bowen," said Santiago, smiling, "How are you?"

That wasn't a trap, right? God, I'd become so paranoid. "I'm fine. You weren't looking for me, were you?" They had my number, and my lawyer's number. No need to come so far from their precinct.

It was O'Hara who answered while Santiago shook her head. "Not today."

"Okay, well. Bye." I hightailed it out of the lobby without saying anything else. I felt like such a spaz, but I couldn't deal with them, not with my nerves still on edge from those few minutes alone with Evan.

In half a daze I walked down the street to one of my favorite delis. It was called Ma's and was barely more than a hole in the wall. I'd found it on my first week on the job. It was everything I wanted from a deli, and no matter when I went, it was nearly deserted. But the food was delicious and it wasn't hideously expensive, so I'd take it.

But it looked like I was destined to have company that day. Another man stood in line by the counter, looking over the selection of pastries in the glass case. I could see that he had long dark hair and wore a really nice suit. And while I did take a moment to appreciate how well it fit his ass, I tore my eyes away after a second. Ogling men had gotten me in enough trouble as it was.

And my opinion of his hotness, or at least the hotness of his backside, was quickly declining. He needed to make a selection before I just skipped ahead of him. But he turned around and offered me something approaching a breathtaking smile. I damn near expected the light to wink off of his white teeth. He had dark eyes and heavy brows, but fine cheekbones and a sturdy chin. It should have been all a mish mash, but he made it work. "So, baklava or a cookie?"

He had to ask? But his smile was doing things to me and I could feel my lips tugging up. "Baklava, always. Unless it's my grandma. Then cookies."

Wait, why was I sharing that? But he laughed and nodded. When he turned away to speak to the cashier, I assumed that was that. But he waited until I finished ordering and sat with me at my table without so much as asking. "Excuse me?"

The dark eyed man laughed. "You're excused, though I don't know that you've done anything to warrant it."

"Wait, to warrant what?" I felt like I'd missed a vital part of this conversation somewhere.

"I see no need for you to be excused, you haven't done anything wrong, have you?" He smiled as a server brought us our food and thanked her when she left. So he might be presumptuous, but at least he wasn't rude to wait staff. "I'm Dylan, by the way. Marquez."

"Charmed, I'm sure." But there was something about this guy, maybe just the super aggressive confidence that lead him to sit at my table when there were plenty of other ones available. I didn't know, but I decided to play along. "Amy."

His lips smiled around his coffee cup. "That's a nice name. So what brings you by? Not too many people know about this place."

I took a dainty bite of my sandwich before answering. "I work right around the corner. What about you?"

His face grew dark, "My sister is meeting her fiancé for lunch; she insisted that I accompany her. She hates Manhattan."

I looked him up and down, he looked 100% Manhattan, and it seemed strange that his sister wouldn't be. I loved the city too much, couldn't understand when people didn't. If they didn't want the hustle and bustle of the city, why would they even come here? I shrugged. "Her loss." But there was that look on his face, "Do you share her view?"

His face cleared and he smiled again, this time it didn't quite encompass all of his face. "Oh no, I love it here. Couldn't imagine being anywhere else." He told me more about himself, he worked for his family's investment firm and was just back from a great vacation in Europe. He'd lived in the city his entire life except for during college and a short stint in his early twenties.

And he got the same information from me. I wasn't from New York but got there as soon as I could, that I'd gone to a tiny liberal arts college that I was sure he'd never heard of. But maybe he'd heard of where I worked, at Daringer Associates? His eyes lit up when I said that, but he didn't tell me why.

His phone beeped just as I finished up the tiny piece of baklava he'd made me try. Of course, knowing how delicious it was, I hadn't resisted too hard. He checked it and cursed. "I'm sorry, Amy, this has been great, but I have a conference call I need to jump on in five minutes."

I glanced up at the clock on the wall. "It's okay, I should be getting back to work anyway." But something made me linger instead of just getting up and going.

Dylan wasn't leaving either. He smiled a bit sheepishly and looked down at his phone. "This has been a great time. How would you feel about doing it again?"

Like a date? I didn't say it out loud, but the prospect of a nice looking guy actually wanting to go out with me in public and let me talk about it sounded nice in light of all of the recent secrecy. "That sounds good." I gave him my contact information.

But he didn't leave it at that, instead kissing me on the cheek before walking out of the deli. I followed him not too much later with even more pep in my step. Damn, at this rate guys would start falling out of the woodwork by next week.

After all of the excitement, a few days passed where nothing seemed to happen. Dylan didn't call, Evan didn't speak with me, and I was able to get some of my work done in peace. Another weekend flew by and I was starting to appreciate that my life just might get back to normal. And then the cops called.

I didn't know if it was good or bad, but I was starting to be less freaked out every time they got in contact with me. That probably wasn't a good thing.

One call to Carmen Brown and we were scheduled to meet at the police station on Sunday evening. She met me in the lobby, her white suit impeccable and makeup making her skin look nearly dark gold in the harsh fluorescent light. "They didn't tell me what it was about," were the first words out of my mouth.

Carmen just smiled, "I'm sure it's nothing serious."

When Santiago and O'Hara greeted us, I began to think that Carmen might be psychic. They were both all smiles and this time led us to a conference room instead of the interrogation room where they'd questioned me before. The room was small but comfortable, it could probably accommodate six or seven people so we weren't hurting for space.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice," said Detective Santiago. "We're fairly certain you'll like what we have to say."

What, were they going to offer me a plea bargain? Or was that the district attorney who did that? Conscious of Carmen by my side, I gave a sort of half-smile and said nothing.

She spoke for me, "Is there anything you have to say that couldn't have been covered with a phone call?"

O'Hara leaned back in her chair, but it was Santiago who kept speaking. "We have eliminated Miss Bowen as a suspect in the case." Joy soared through me. I knew it had been weighing me down, but I hadn't realized how much. But once she said those words I felt like I could float away from the lightness of my newfound body. "However," and with one word I could feel the pressure building up again. "We still have a few questions."

I opened my mouth to respond, but Carmen put a hand on my arm before I could say anything. "Please give us a moment?" The detectives stepped away from the table, but they didn't leave the room. I guessed that Carmen was fine with that when she didn't insist. She leaned in close and whispered, her breath tickling my ear. "Just because they've eliminated you as a suspected does not mean that they will not change their minds. You'll need to be careful, however, cooperation at this point will more likely reflect well on you."

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.