What's in a Name? (31 page)

He lowered his head to her breast,
swirling his tongue around an already taut nipple. Sucked. Scraped.
Nipped.

With his hand, he reached between her
thighs, working his fingers between sleek satin and her soft
curls.

Her hands clutched at his, struggling
to free herself from her panties. With an almost frantic
desperation, she wriggled out of them, then grabbed at his belt
once again. “I want you. Inside me.”

“
All in good time.”
His fingers caressed, circled and cajoled until he saw her eyes
start to glaze.

Panting, she gripped his wrist. “Blake.
Please. Together. I love you.”

Her words destroyed his resolve. He
yanked his belt open and unfastened his jeans. His erection popped
free. Slow and easy went out the window. Shoving and kicking, he
lowered his jeans down his legs and off. He exhaled a quivering
breath and tore open a condom packet.

“
Wait,” she said,
reaching for him. “Come to me.”

She took him in her hands. Her warm
fingers cupped him and she smiled as he tightened under her touch.
She encircled his hardness. She ran her fingers up and down his
shaft, thumbing the drop of moisture collecting at its tip until he
thought he’d go mad.

“
Oh, God, Sweetheart.
Take it easy. This was supposed to be for you.”

“
For us.” She took the
condom from his fingers and rolled it over him. Settling back on
the bed, she opened herself to him and guided him inside. Rocked
him as they discovered their rhythm, tempo building until he
couldn’t wait any longer. Thunder pounded in his ears as he thrust,
faster and faster into that final moment of oblivion-filled
release.

Golden late-afternoon sunlight cast a
glow over the office. Kelli took another cookie from the plate on
the desk, got up and closed the curtains, getting rid of the glare
on her monitor. If she eliminated Robert as the reason someone was
after her, she had no place to start. Back to Dwight Hollingsworth,
her only lead at the moment.

Blake sat sprawled sideways in the
recliner, cell phone to his ear. When she heard his voice, she
stopped to listen. From his tone, he was obviously leaving a
message.

“
Mrs. Madison, this is
Blake Windsor. Please let Dwight know I’m out of town—a personal
matter. Not exactly sure when I’ll be back, but I can work on the
Whittaker account from here, so things should remain on schedule.
He can call me on my cell if he needs me.”

Blake set the phone down and clicked
the release on the recliner, stretching his legs along its length.
He closed his eyes. “You want to join me?”

“
I heard you—you have
work to do and so do I.” She glanced back at the screen. “Wait a—
What’s this?” She grabbed the mouse and highlighted one of Dwight
Hollingsworth’s bank records.

She asked Blake, “Do you remember
Hollingsworth having plastic surgery a year or so ago?”

Blake sat up, his eyes wide open. “No,
I don’t. I think I’d remember. Why?”

“
Because he paid some
major bucks to Doctor Trevor Einsel—the same doctor who did my
surgery before I started Berkeley.”

“
If he had anything
done, it wasn’t visible.” Blake got up and crossed to the desk,
leaning over Kelli’s shoulder. He smelled clean and spicy. She
reached up behind her and ran her fingers down his freshly shaven
cheek.

“
Guess I’ll dig a
little more.” Kelli picked up the mouse.

“
Can you get into a
doctor’s files?”

“
This one, yes. I
created his system for him—in exchange for my operation. One final
job for CompSecure and my last appearance as Casey.”

“
I thought you made
systems people couldn’t get into.”

“
Back doors, Windsor.
I always leave myself a way in.” She turned her face to his,
allowed herself one moment in the chocolate depths of his eyes.
“Now, go. Let me work. You’re distracting me.”

But she didn’t stop him when he kissed
the nape of her neck.

“
I’ll get my papers
and work in the kitchen,” he said.

She allowed herself a moment to enjoy
the view as he left the room. Definitely a nice ass.

Stop it, she admonished. Someone was
trying to kill her. She needed to forget about the way Blake made
her feel and get back on task. Brushing cookie crumbs from her
shirt, she turned to the keyboard.

She went back to the medical records.
Georgette Hollingsworth had been the patient. Probably Dwight’s
wife. Face lift. Made sense. Disappear on a vacation, come back
looking well rested. Really well rested. And Dr. Einsel was known
for being one of the best. His client list included some heavy-duty
VIPs.

All of a sudden, she was back in his
waiting room, thumbing through book after book of before and after
photographs. What would she bet she was in there? At the time of
her own surgery, she hadn’t given it a second thought. She wasn’t
creating a disguise then, only taking advantage of a needed surgery
to help escape her past with a new image. No names with the photos,
but if Hollingsworth had recognized Casey Wallace in a “before”
photo, he’d know what she looked like now.

Shit. Why did everything happen on
weekends? She couldn’t call Dr. Einsel until Monday, unless—she
started clicking through phone directories, drumming her fingers on
the desk while she waited for each search to run. Office number. At
least he was still practicing in the same place. No personal
listing for him, but it wasn’t unusual for a doctor to have an
unlisted number.

Wait. She’d had dinner with him once
while she was designing his computer system. His wife had come
along. A walking ad for her husband’s skill. Big into charity work.
Kelli pounded the desk. What was her name? She stared at the
ceiling, willing the answer to appear. Nancy? No. Natalie. She
grabbed the mouse again and hoped Natalie had her own phone
listing.

There was an entry for an N. Einsel.
“Yes!” She gave a quick fist-pump and dialed the phone.

“
Einsel residence,”
answered a cultured female voice.

She forced herself to relax her grip on
the receiver. “May I speak to Dr. Einsel please?”

“
May I tell him who’s
calling?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought this one
through. Would the doctor know CompSecure was defunct? She almost
hung up the phone, but followed her gut feeling. “Mary Rogers with
CompSecure. We worked for Dr. Einsel a number of years ago. I’d
appreciate it if he’d have a few moments to talk with me about a
security issue.” Almost afraid to breathe, she waited.

“
One
moment.”

She heard the phone clunk down and
footsteps fading away. After what seemed like forever, Dr. Einsel’s
voice came through the line.

“
Ms. Rogers. What can
I do for you? If I recall correctly, I worked with Casey
Wallace.”

After taking a deep breath, she plunged
into the story she’d created in the last half minute. “Casey’s no
longer with the company. But customer satisfaction remains one of
our highest priorities. By coincidence, I overheard your name in
conversation and it sounded like a prominent woman thought word of
a procedure had been leaked to the press.”

After a long pause that had her mouth
turn dry, the doctor went on. “I’ve never had a complaint.” His
tone was guarded.

“
I know how important
patient confidentiality is. I was afraid someone might have
compromised CompSecure’s system in your office. If there were any
problems with your computer security, I would certainly fix them—at
no cost to you, of course.”

After another moment, he spoke again.
“No, no, I never received one of the alerts Ms. Wallace told me I’d
see if someone had been in the system without authorization. And I
assure you, my staff would never leak any information.”

The way his voice drifted off had her
wondering if he was hiding something or merely thinking. He
continued, his voice both hesitant and defensive. “We did have one
incident, but that was almost a year ago and couldn’t possibly be
related to any recent cases. And it wasn’t a computer
incident.”

Her heart rate shifted gears. “What
happened?”

“
It was a case of an
inexperienced file clerk who left file cabinets unlocked and was
slovenly in her work. She was dismissed and we haven’t had any
other issues that would compromise our files. As I said, it was a
minor incident, quickly rectified and had nothing to do with our
computer system.”

“
You’re right, Dr.
Einsel. I shouldn’t be listening to cocktail party gossip. I
probably misheard, anyway. Since it appears your computer system
wasn’t compromised, I’ll let you get back to your
weekend.”

She disconnected and paced the room.
Calm down. Think.

Hollingsworth might have connected
Casey to a nameless picture. But he hadn’t given any Kelli pictures
to Blake. How had he made the connection? Did he have anything to
do with the filing mishap? And even so, what had Casey ever done to
Dwight Hollingsworth?

* * * * *

Blake set aside his papers and stepped
to the refrigerator. Kelli had been working for two hours now, and
if dinner was going to be on the evening’s schedule, he guessed
he’d have to do something about it. He smiled when he set a package
of chicken breasts and a carton of orange juice on the counter,
then found an onion and the Dijon mustard he’d bought.

Okay, but now what? He started rooting
through cabinets and drawers, trying to remember what he’d seen in
the kitchen at Camp Getaway.

“
Need some help,
Windsor?”

He spun around at the sound of Kelli’s
voice, cracking his head against an open cabinet door. “Crap!”
Rubbing his head, he could tell she was trying not to laugh.

He saw her taking in his attempts to
start cooking and when her expression softened, he had a sudden
urge to use the kitchen counter for an entirely different course of
action. “Umm … I thought I’d start dinner. Unless—?” He cocked an
eyebrow.

“
I think dinner’s the
more sensible option.” But her smile gave him hope for
dessert.

She stepped closer, brushing her hip
against him while she found a frying pan. “You’ve got the right
idea, anyway.” When she raised her eyes to meet his, she laughed.
“About dinner. It’s always a good idea to get all the ingredients
out and ready before you start cooking. There’s even a name for it.
Mis en place
.”

“
I think I love it
when you talk cooking.” He embraced her, making no effort to deny
his arousal.

She lingered against him for a moment,
then pulled away. “Down, boy. Hand me the garlic.”

He watched in fascination as Kelli gave
the garlic clove a resounding whack with the side of the knife
blade, slipped off the skin, then chopped it fine.

“
You know how to dice
an onion?” she asked. She poured some olive oil into the pan and
adjusted the burner.

“
I think I can
manage.” He reached for the knife. “Dice means cut up into little
bits, right?”

“
Let me show you.”
Kelli cut the onion in half, made a series of horizontal cuts, then
vertical ones. “Don’t go all the way through the root, though, or
it’ll fall apart. Then, all you do is cut crosswise and …
voilà
… dice!” She handed him the knife. “You can do the
other half.”

He copied her moves and although his
end product wasn’t quite as uniform as Kelli’s he thought he’d done
a fine job. He blinked as the onion brought tears to his eyes.

“
Not bad.” Kelli
scraped the onion into the hot pan. “Work on your speed and you’ll
be done before the fumes get to you.”

While they cooked, Kelli brought him up
to speed on her findings. “I think Robert was a false trail. I’ve
been looking at Dwight Hollingsworth’s personal records, but other
than the doctor, I can’t see anywhere he and Casey would have
crossed paths. I want to get back to Hollingsworth Industries after
dinner. Now that I’m not looking for the Robert connection,
something else might ring a bell.”

He settled in alongside Kelli,
following directions, studying her moves and to his amazement,
found himself working with her as though he’d been cooking for
years.

Before he knew it, dinner was ready.
Kelli gave him a questioning look when he carried the plates to the
dining room instead of the kitchen table, but she seemed to
understand this was something he needed to do.

He put his plate on the massive table
in front of the chair he’d begrudgingly built all those years ago.
It rocked slightly when he sat down and he wondered why nobody had
ever fixed it.

Kelli took a seat across from him. She
gave him a quick glance, then picked up her knife and fork. They’d
finished their meal without uttering a word when Kelli broke the
silence.

“
Did it
help?”

“
What?”

“
Eating in here. At
his table.” She wiped her mouth on her napkin. “Don’t bottle it up.
Talk to me.”

Her gray eyes caught his. In their
depths was understanding. Encouragement. Strength. He pushed his
plate aside.

His voice, when he found it, was thick.
“I keep wondering why he kept this chair.”

“
Why wouldn’t he? It’s
a fine chair.”

“
It’s a piece of crap
compared to what he could produce. While I was building it, nothing
I did was good enough. Nothing was right. I didn’t use the lathe
right, my chisel was gouging, I didn’t sand it smooth enough. To
listen to him, it’s a wonder he didn’t use it for
firewood.”