Spying On The Boss

CHAPTER THREE

THE DAY WAS pleasant and Wyatt would have chosen the outdoor seating, but Marcus Canard had already taken up residence in a corner booth at the Citadel Mall location of Sesame Burgers & Beer. The lunch crowd was beginning to thin out which troubled him a little. People in large noisy crowds were less likely to eavesdrop.

Wyatt hesitated, studying Marcus for a moment. He wore the Southern gentleman’s casual uniform of khakis and a polo shirt. But everything was a bit off. The shirt stretched over a too-large gut and one collar was frayed. The fabric of the khakis was stiff and shiny. By his appearance, he wouldn’t seem to fit with the business elite of Charleston, but he did.

He’d first noticed it when he’d been summoned to the office of Henry Moody to meet Marcus. The contrast between Henry’s Old World grace and Marcus’s crude appearance and speech was almost comical. Until you realized they were both rich and powerful men. And in the business world, money and power were all that really mattered.

Wyatt had taken this assignment when he really didn’t want to. The work he did for Henry’s insurance company was his main source of income. He couldn’t jeopardize that relationship. Not with Jules’s welfare to consider. So he was stuck with Marcus Canard. He crossed the room, pulling on his bland cop face.

“Did you get the job?” Marcus asked around a mouthful of fries as Wyatt sat across from him.

“Start on Monday. It’d be helpful if you told me exactly what it is you’re looking for.”

“Anything. I know that gal isn’t running a legitimate business over there. And what’s with the guy thing? Is that a gimmick or are those boys doing more than mopping?”

Wyatt corralled his irritation while he gave the waitress his order. Clients usually knew exactly what they wanted him to find. When he turned back to Marcus, he had it mostly under control. “You think there’s something illegal going on, then?”

“All I know is she charges twice what I do, and for what? So a good-looking guy can clean your house? Who cares what he looks like?”

A spark of interest flared at that and Wyatt leaned forward. “You think she’s running a male-prostitute service?”

“Why not? Women can pay for it now, too, right?”

“My preliminary investigation hasn’t turned up anything. Not even a rumor.”

“Find a rumor. Find something. Find anything. I want her out of business.”

“Why?”

“That’s nothing you need to know to do your job. Just do it.”

Marcus had barked out the order, but his eyes had slid away from Wyatt’s and lingered on the shoppers passing the window. His hands clenched into fists on the table. The man was angry. Anger was usually personal.

“You said she couldn’t run a legitimate business. How do you know that?”

Marcus looked back at Wyatt and the silverware clanged on the table as he slammed his fist down. “There is something going on. She’s nothing. A minimum-wage trailer-park maid. Thinks she’s something now.” He leaned forward and pointed his index finger at Wyatt. “I won that ridiculous City Paper award five years in a row. She took it from me. Now I’m losing customers. Find me something. Anything.”

And there it was. She was hurting him financially and now she’d publicly beaten him. The City Paper’s Best of Charleston Award may have been the catalyst for Marcus seeking revenge, but money was always the motivation for men like him. He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything going on, but if you want to continue the investigation, it’s your money.”

“Damn right, it’s my money. You find something. Anything. Be a shame if I had to tell Henry you let me down.”

Wyatt pressed his lips together. His first impulse was to get up and walk out. But there was Julietta to consider now. He couldn’t do anything to risk the stability he was trying to give her. If his relationship with Henry was damaged, he’d lose his biggest source of income.

He shrugged as he squeezed lime over his fish taco. “It’s your money.”

“And you’ll have a report for me next week.”

Marcus wiped his mouth and threw the napkin on his plate. He reached into his wallet and left a twenty on the table before lumbering away.

Asshole. Wyatt tried to finish his lunch, but the food tasted like sawdust and his stomach burned with frustrated anger. He shoved the plate away and smiled at the waitress to let her know he was ready.

He should probably try to dig a little deeper into the story of the woman who made the false allegation. Most likely a waste of time. He’d heard the passion and the fierce protectiveness in Sadie’s voice when she’d told him the story this morning. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t stupid, either. There was more going on here than Marcus was telling him. His phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. The display read Springfield Elementary and everything else was forgotten in a wave of concern. Julietta.

“Mr. Anderson? This is Mrs. Rigby, the principal at Springfield.”

“Yes, ma’am. Is Julietta all right?”

“She’s having a bit of a rough time today. Would you be able to come to the school?”

“On my way.”

A bit of a rough time today. Poor kid had had a rough time the past six months. Her mother, Maddie, his baby sister, had been filling in for another flight nurse when the helicopter she was in went down in the Smoky Mountains. There had been no survivors. Julietta had been dropped off for school and had never seen her mother alive again.

He found her sitting in a chair in the school office, clutching her book bag to her chest. She sat perfectly still. No fidgeting, no swinging of the legs or tapping of feet. None of the constant motion you would expect from an eight-year-old. She didn’t smile at him, only turned those big, dark eyes in his direction. He squatted beside her and ruffled the black hair falling in a messy sheet down her back.

“Hey, Jujube. What’s up?”

She lowered her head to the book bag but her eyes, so full of a sadness he’d give anything to know how to relieve, never left his. “I want to go.”

She didn’t say she wanted to go home. In her mind, home was still in Asheville. Home was as dead and gone as her mother. He brushed back a lock of hair from her face.

“Okay, we’ll go. Let me talk to Mrs. Rigby first.”

“I’m sorry to have called you,” Mrs. Rigby said as he sat across from her. “Usually, if we give her a little quiet time in the library or here, she can regroup and go on with her day.”

“No, call me whenever you think it’s necessary. She’s my primary concern. Do you have any idea what may have upset her?”

“I think it was a geography lesson. Her teacher was talking about plains and mountains.”

Wyatt took in a deep breath. Mountains. Asheville. Home. Her mother. The child psychologist said it was normal. Anything could trigger a memory reminding her of the loss and all he could do was be supportive.

He’d spent hours on the phone with Maddie’s best friends trying to learn their rituals and habits and the things they celebrated so he could be prepared. That’s how he’d known Julietta got a new stuffed bunny rabbit for Easter every year, not candy. He’d worried it had been a mistake to try to replicate a gift from her mother when Julietta had stared silently at the bunny. After what had seemed like forever, she’d stroked the soft, plush fabric and given her uncle a hug. Wyatt had never had a better hug in his life.

“I’m going to take her home, then. School’s almost over for the day.”

“Is she still getting help?”

“Yes. We’re seeing the counselor twice a week. She’s making good progress. It’s slow, but steady. Due for some sort of breakthrough, the counselor thinks.”

“Good. If there’s anything we can do to help, please schedule a meeting with her teacher and me.”

He stood and shook her hand, thanking her. As he left, he held out a hand to his niece. “Come on, Jules, let’s hit the road.”

She stood and carefully, deliberately settled the book bag around her shoulders. After a moment she placed her little hand in his. He closed his fingers gently around hers and let out a breath as sadness washed over him. He wanted to see her have some sort of normal childhood. He simply had no idea how to get her there.

CHAPTER FOUR

A SLENDER HAND with golden-brown skin and a perfect manicure reached over Sadie’s shoulder and snatched the phone out of her hands. She reached to grab it back and noticed the jagged nail she’d forgotten to fix after breaking it while opening a box of mop tops.

“Magdalena!”

Her best friend slid into the booth across from her with a flounce of heavy dark hair and pinned her with nearly black eyes. She held the phone up. “Don’t try to piss me off by calling me that. You can’t distract me. Why were you looking at it?”

Sadie ignored the flare of guilt and gestured to the glasses of wine on the table. “I already got your chardonnay. And I ordered the hummus.”

Lena lifted the wineglass and took a healthy sip. “Thank you. Why do you keep looking when you know it only makes you feel bad?”

Sadie took her phone back. Setting it aside, she took a long sip of her own wine. She knew she should stop checking her mother’s Facebook page. It stirred up pain and anger she should have left behind years ago. It wasn’t healthy, she knew, to read the accomplishments of her half brother and sisters and feel the need to shout, “Hey, I still exist! I’m accomplishing things, too!” Her jealousy of mere children made her sick with shame. But she couldn’t stop. A part of her wondered if her mother had wanted her to find it. There were no privacy settings on the account. All she had to do was send a friend request.

She didn’t need to say these things to Lena. She knew. The waiter brought the hummus and, as Sadie reached for a wedge of bread, Lena put her hand over Sadie’s.

“I’m sorry, Sades. I didn’t say that to hurt you.”

Sadie shrugged and pulled her hand away. She kept her eyes on the bowl of hummus. She was capable of hurting herself without any help. “I know. You’re right. It’s like picking at a scab.”

She sat back in the booth of the Avondale Mellow Mushroom restaurant. Avondale was a booming little microcosm about a mile over the Ashley River from downtown Charleston. While Sadie’s home wasn’t quite in the Avondale neighborhood, it was close enough to walk. In the past few years, the intersection where Magnolia met Savannah Highway had become a hot spot for local restaurants, artisan shops and amazing mural art. The revitalization was the reason her property values had skyrocketed, and she tried to repay the community by frequenting the shops and restaurants.

“Congrats on winning the City Paper’s Best of Charleston Award. Are you going to the big party to accept it?”

“No. A couple of the guys will. They’re the reason we won.”

“You should go, too. Come on, you built the company. Take some credit.”

“I take credit. I don’t need to go to a party. I do the important stuff.”

She belonged to all the proper business groups. Lena, who owned her own financial management agency, had dragged Sadie to the meetings and forced her to join. She still felt uncomfortable. The professional women with their cool grace, beautiful suits and master’s degrees made Sadie feel uncouth, sloppy and stupid. She eyed her gorgeous friend as she flirted with the waiter while giving her order.

She and Lena had begun working as maids twelve years ago when they were both fresh out of high school. Lena had graduated and Sadie had been forced to leave school. Lena had been focused and beautiful even then. She came from a huge family, and they were determined she was going to be their first college graduate. Her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins came together to fund her education. She earned scholarships and qualified for grants. With her hard work and her family’s help, Lena had graduated with a master’s degree and not one penny of debt. The commitment and sacrifice of her family took Sadie’s breath away.

“How’s Paul?” she asked after she’d ordered.

Lena made a face and took a sip of wine. “Your attempts at distraction are pathetic. But since you asked, I’m going to break up with him.”

“Why? I thought he was perfect.”

“He is, on paper. In real life, he’s boring. Don’t get me started on the sex.”

“Don’t want to know.”

“On. Off. Back to the computer. There should be no reason to self-induce when you have a man in the house.”

Sadie stuck her fingers in her ears. “La la la la la, not listening.” She did not want to hear this. Especially since the last time she’d had a man in the house or otherwise was... Two years ago? No wonder random men were making her horny. She took a sip of wine. Be honest. One man was doing that. Only one. She turned her attention back to Lena.

“Well, hell. You’ve sworn off bad boys. Now the nice young executives on the rise are boring? You’re narrowing your options.”

“There has to be a hybrid. I need a beta in the living room and an alpha in the bedroom. Do they exist?”

“You’re asking me? I’ve given up.”

“You’re too young to give up.”

“I can’t do it. All the dating and getting to know someone and explaining...”

“You have nothing to explain. Nothing to be ashamed of, do you hear me?”

“Sure, right. Until he takes me home to meet his family. And wants to meet mine.”

“So, bring him home to meet mine.”

She smiled as she said it, a wicked little gleam lighting up her eyes. It made Sadie laugh. That would be a sight. Lena had paid her family back after her success by building her parents a huge home south of Charleston near the Edisto River. It had six bedrooms, six bathrooms, a huge kitchen and large yard. It was full to the roof with the same extended family that had helped her through college. They were loud and boisterous and nothing went unsaid—good, bad or ugly. You could feel the love crackling in the very air.

“It would certainly show us what he’s made of.”

Their pizzas arrived and Lena ordered another round of wine. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“So, the new guy you hired seems interesting,” Lena said.

Sadie, concentrating on her never-ending indecision of whether or not to use a fork and knife for the pizza, glanced at her friend. Lena was her accountant and Molly would have sent over the information to put him on the payroll.

“Whoa! What was that look all about?”

“What look?” Sadie said.

“That look. Last time I saw that look, it was from a dog growling over a bone. What’s up with Mr. New Guy?”

“Nothing.”

Lena laughed. “You’re actually blushing, Sadie. Spill it. Is he hot?”

“Of course he’s hot. He works for me. It’s my business. Hot guys.”

“True, but there’s something about this one. Is he giving you the flusters?”

Taking a long sip—or three—from her wineglass, Sadie mulled over those words. Lena had gotten closer to the truth than she’d like to admit. Wyatt Anderson turned her into a nervous, giggling girl. Her mind offered up the memory of his hand, strong, tanned and calloused, clasping hers for a brief moment. The lust his touch had sent rocketing through her body wasn’t girlish, though. Those had been the feelings of a woman who hadn’t had a boyfriend in a very long time and led to thoughts of his hands on other parts of her body. Sigh.

“He has a certain appeal,” she said. She tried to downplay it with a detached tone, but Lena didn’t fall for it.

“Oh. Dios. Mio. It’s a miracle! The ice is melting. Digame.”

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s an employee. Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. Is he starting orientation Monday? Can I bring the paperwork over for him to sign? Get a peek at the man who made the mighty Sadie Martin feel like a woman?”

“No, you can’t. Employee. Period. End of story.”

“Who says you can’t have a couple of thrills with an employee?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You know what I mean. Plenty of people meet on the job and figure out how to make it work.”

Sadie swirled the last of the wine before downing it in a gulp. She shook her head. “Stop it. The guy’s gorgeous. I looked. That’s as far as it’s going to go.”

Lena held her hands up in surrender. “Fine. But we’re getting to the age where we need to take advantage of every opportunity.”

“There’s the difference between us. You want the whole deal. Marriage, kids, happily-ever-after. I really don’t care about all that.”

The understanding and touch of pity in Lena’s eyes irritated her. She didn’t know what made her madder: the look or Lena continuing to poke at this sore spot.

“Yes, you do. You’re afraid.”

Sadie raised her glass in a signal to the waiter to bring another. To hell with it—she wasn’t driving. She pressed her lips together in a tight line. Breathe. She hated when Lena hit the truth dead-on. She was afraid, but Lena didn’t have it quite right. Lena thought she was afraid of trust, of love. But that wasn’t everything. She was afraid to let someone close enough for love because he would discover there was something wrong with her. She didn’t know how to love.

She pushed those thoughts away. “How’s Lito doing?”

Lena slumped back and Sadie felt her heart slump, too. A small frisson of fear bloomed in her belly. Lito, Abuelito, was Lena’s grandfather. He had taken Sadie under his arm when she’d been introduced to the family. He was the closest she had to a father figure in her life. His diagnosis of pancreatic cancer several months ago had sent her on a roller coaster of fear, denial and hope. She’d stuffed all her messy emotions in a box, labeled it “doctors can cure anything these days” and begun a highly successful effort to pretend the entire thing wasn’t happening.

“It’s not good, Sades. It’s too advanced for surgery. He hates the chemo and radiation therapy.”

“But he’s going to keep doing it, right? I mean, isn’t that normal? The chemo and stuff is bad, but it helps eventually, right?”

Lena shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s eighty-three, Sades.”

Tears clogged her throat. Selfish tears, she realized. She wanted him to keep fighting because she didn’t want to lose him. “I know.”

“He’s questioning whether it’s all worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it! What’s the alternative? To just die?”

Lena’s dark eyes met hers and Sadie felt everything in her grow cold. The laughter and conversation around them dimmed to a distant buzz. She felt her head begin to move from side to side. No.

“It’s his choice to make, Sadie. Only he can say what he wants his quality of life to be.”

“I know.”

The words were weak and wavering. She did know. But she felt like a child in her fear. Lito was going to leave her. Just like everyone else. She shook her head. You are being selfish and childish. Stop it. Her brain knew this. Her heart would accept it eventually.

CHAPTER FIVE

SADIE TRIED TO keep on the shady side of the path, but Jack had other ideas. He pulled on the harness with such strength she had no doubt that if she fell, he’d drag her along behind him. He’d been a rampaging whirl of doggie ecstasy ever since she’d put his halter on. Dog park day. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The little park wasn’t really a dog park, but no one had complained about her tossing tennis balls to Jack along a grassy stretch off the bike path, so she kept going there.

She’d slathered herself with eighty SPF and wore lightweight cotton pants to cover her legs, but a long-sleeve shirt was impossible in Charleston’s May weather. Today the humidity was relatively low, so the temperature in the mideighties was pleasant. Her fair skin burnt to a crisp with ease and she’d long ago given up trying to get any sort of tan.

“Hold up, Jack. You’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.”

Of course he didn’t listen. If Molly were here, he would trot obediently at her side. All he knew was they were approaching the stretch of grass where he could run until he collapsed or Sadie’s throwing arm gave out, whichever came first. It was their Saturday ritual. A late-morning run in the park, then a bath. She’d discovered bathing an exhausted dog was much easier.

They reached the edge of the grass and Jack sat panting over his shoulder at her, his silly tongue lolling out. He let out a happy bark and tried to wag his tail through the grass. She took his head between her hands and squatted to look him in the eye. “You’re such a goofball, Jack. Do you know this? Do you know you’re a goofball?”

He barked again and quivered in anticipation. She led him to the shade of a large oak tree and undid the leash. As she shook a tennis ball out of the tube, he began to run in circles at her feet, making her laugh. Adopting him had been the best idea she’d ever had.

“Okay, you ready?”

She threw the ball as hard as she could, but honestly, not very far. Jack didn’t care. He took off like a bullet, outpacing her throw and catching it neatly. He ran back to her and pretended to tussle over the ball. She threw the next one almost straight up. This allowed Jack to jump a fairly impressive distance into the air. As he did, she heard a little girl call out.

“Did you see that doggie jump?”

Sadie smiled at the little girl who had stopped her bike and was straddling it, pointing at Jack while looking back over her shoulder. Her hair was a shining wave of pure black falling halfway down her back. A man approached the girl. Her heart tripped over itself. Oh, great. It was Wyatt Anderson. He watched Jack run back and his gaze met hers the same instant Jack dropped the ball at her feet.

Oh, Jesus. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe he’d keep on going. Please, because dear God. Because he was wearing shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and he’d been running and was all muscle and sweat and devilish goodness. He raised his hand in a wave and smiled and even from this distance, she could see those dimples. Jack yipped impatiently at the delay. She waved back. Perfect. Here he comes. Without business matters to hide behind, she was going to make a fool of herself. Because those hazel eyes made every brain cell she had melt into a useless pile of goop. And she wanted to press her lips to one—or both—of those dimples.

“Hey,” he said as they approached. The little girl left the bike on the side of the path and trailed behind him shyly. Must be the niece he’d mentioned.

“Oh, hi.” Going for casual, coming across as stupid. Brilliant. Jack was having his own meltdown and gave her an excuse to look away for a moment so she could throw the tennis ball. The little girl stopped to watch him run.

“Wow,” Wyatt said. “He’s fast.”

He turned his attention back to Sadie. She smiled up at him. He seemed taller. Wider. Her gaze slid along the curves and dips of the muscles of his arm. The man was cut. She eyed the front of his shirt. Wonder what’s under there.

Come on! Stop staring.