Читать книгу The Highest Bidder - Maureen Child - Страница 14

Charlie hated this. Hated feeling on edge all the time. Hated the sense of guilt that seemed to cling to the edges of her mind constantly these days.

Vance was being so nice. And she was lying to him. Every time she spoke to him, she lied. Her grandmother had always insisted, It’s a lie, Charlie, if you know something and you don’t say so. Same as if you were spinning tales yourself. And Gran had been right. Charlie knew something dangerous and she wasn’t saying anything about it because of her need to protect herself. And her son.

Which made her a liar.

And now Vance was talking to Security. Was it about her? Had someone seen something? Was she being watched by someone besides her blackmailer? Oh, God.

Charlie opened up her email program and clicked Reply on the latest threat she’d received only that morning. When that threat had come in, she’d actually tried to open up the older record files this morning, but she hadn’t gotten far before she had shut everything down. She couldn’t do it. Not to Waverly’s. Not to Vance.

Now she typed in a quick note to whoever was threatening her, asking for more time. Even as she hit Send, she knew it wasn’t going to help. This wasn’t going to go away until she either betrayed Vance and Waverly’s or took Jake and ran.

But where would she run? She had no family now. No one. The only people she knew in the world were here, in the city. She had a little savings, but not enough to set herself and Jake up anywhere else. She sat back in her chair, letting her fears rise up until they nearly choked her. When the light on line 2 went out, she shivered. Vance had finished speaking to Security. What was next? Would she be arrested? Fired?

“Gran, I really wish you were still here. I’d run home so fast …”

And just whispering those words made her ashamed. Running away wasn’t the answer and she knew it. She had to face this. Tell Vance the truth and hope to heaven he believed her when she swore she would never sell out Waverly’s.

Oh, God.

Fear still jumped in the pit of her stomach, but somehow, it was easier knowing that at least she’d made a decision. She knew what she had to do. All she needed was the courage to get it done. Because she knew that once she told him about her past, about where she’d come from, he wouldn’t want anything more to do with her. And oh, she would miss him. But first—

She buzzed his office and waited for his gruff reply. “Yes?”

“Vance, I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Sure. Fine.”

He sounded as stern and unyielding as he ever had and she wondered again how a man as ruthless as he was in business could be so different when it was just the two of them. She headed out of the office for the elevator. Before she spoke to Vance, she needed a few minutes with her son.

When she got to the fourth floor, Jake was sleeping.

Charlie slipped into the nap room, walked up to the only occupied crib and stared down at her son. Curled up on his side, Jake had one fist pressed to his mouth and the other curled into his soft, brown hair. His sock-clad feet were drawn up tight and his tiny sighs arrowed straight into her heart.

Scooping him up, Charlie cradled him against her and patted his back until he settled again. She sat in one of the rocking chairs in the shadowy half light and looked down at him through tear-filled eyes. She and her baby boy were alone in the darkened room and his warmth eased some of the chill snaking through her. Smoothing one hand over his hair, Charlie bent close enough to kiss his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I tried, really. I wanted to give you so much and now I don’t know what to do.”

The baby slept on and Charlie relished the solid, warm weight of him close to her heart. No matter what else was wrong with her life, she had Jake. And she wouldn’t let him down. She would give him a safe, warm world to grow up in.

“I’ll fix it somehow, baby boy. Everything is going to be all right.” Was she trying to soothe her son or reassure herself? She didn’t know and wasn’t sure it mattered.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she let them fall. Here in the dark, who would see?

“Why’re you crying?”

She stopped rocking, lifted her gaze to the doorway and met Vance Waverly’s steady stare. He was tall, gorgeous and, right now, she could see that his eyes, even in the shadows, were glinting with carefully banked fury.

“It’s nothing,” she said, because what else could she possibly say?

“You’re sitting by yourself, holding your sleeping son in the dark and crying. That’s not nothing.” He pushed away from the doorjamb and locked his gaze on her. Even in the shadows, she felt the power of that cool stare. “I have to know something. Are you a spy, Charlie?”

“I’m not a spy,” she said, patting her son’s behind gently, keeping her voice as quiet as she could. Her tears still rained down her face and as Vance entered the room, she tried wiping them away.

Here it was then. She wasn’t going to get the opportunity to confess. To go to him and tell him everything. Instead, he’d found her out and now he was looking at her as if he didn’t know her at all. But then, she thought sadly, he really didn’t.

He squatted down in front of her and locked his gaze with hers. “What’s going on, Charlie? What is it you’re trying so hard not to tell me?”

“Believe it or not, I was going to tell you,” she said softly as Jake murmured in his sleep. “I just needed to see my son first. Sort of center myself, then I was coming to you.”

Vance nodded. “I do believe you. But I’m here now. So talk to me.”

Still meeting his angry eyes, she shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about you put Jake back in his bed and you and I take a walk?”

She took a breath and let it out on a heavy sigh. The time for stalling was over. And oddly, the heavy ball in the pit of her stomach that had been her constant companion for almost two weeks was already dissolving. Living with lies wasn’t easy. Telling the truth wouldn’t be easy, either. But at least she’d be able to breathe again.

Charlie stood up, settled Jake back down again, then turned to look up at Vance. Lifting her chin, she whispered, “It’s a long story.”

He took her to the park. Central Park on a bright summer day was filled with locals and tourists and was far enough away from Waverly’s that whatever they said would stay between them. They stayed clear of the lakes and the swimming pool, skirted the carousel and the zoo. He bought them each a bottle of water from a waffle vendor, then steered her toward a wooden bench beside a walking path through the trees.

Vance sat down beside her on the bench beneath an ancient willow. The tree’s branches hung low, its feathery leaves grudgingly waving in the desultory breeze. The scent of flowers and burned coffee from a nearby food cart filled the air as they sat in the dappled shade.

Of course, Vance had followed her when she’d left her desk to take that “break.” Angry and suspicious, he’d felt like a third-rate private detective, slinking along in her wake as she made her way through Waverly’s. He’d had no idea what he might discover, but he certainly hadn’t expected to find her crying over her sleeping son. As her boss, he was wary, suspicious. As the man who … cared for her, he was worried.

“Start talking,” he said, when she made no move to say anything. “I want it all, Charlie.”

She laughed shortly, broke the seal on her water bottle and took a long drink. When she had neatly screwed the cap back on, she lifted her gaze and looked out over the park. Two women pushing strollers laughed and chatted. A young man threw a Frisbee for a golden retriever and somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted, crossing her legs demurely.

“Then start with this.” He waited until she looked at him. “Were you the one trying to access Waverly records this morning?”

Her pale blue eyes went wide in shock. “Oh, God.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he muttered darkly and took a drink of his own water. “Security told me that the IT department had found someone hacking into the records. I really hoped it wasn’t you.”

Dammit. He would have been willing to bet money that she was innocent. He didn’t like feeling as though he’d been played. Was she that good an actress? Could she really pretend to be an innocent and pull it off so completely? His gaze fixed on her, he tried to balance this new information with the woman he had come to know the past couple of weeks and couldn’t do it. Who was the real Charlie?

But even as he thought that, he remembered her alone in the dark with her son and the tears coursing down her face. She hadn’t known he was there. Hadn’t known she’d been caught. So the tears were real. Now all he had to do was find out what else was.

“I couldn’t do it,” she said after a long moment of silence. “I tried. Went to the records file, but I closed it again right away. I couldn’t steal from Waverly’s. From you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Vance said and meant it. His suspicions were dissolving. A real thief wouldn’t have changed her mind. She would have scoped out all the information she could glean and then disappear. But the frustration chewing at him was still fierce. He believed she hadn’t wanted to steal from him. But she’d come close.

“Now how about you tell me why you tried it in the first place?” He heard the tightly leashed anger in his voice and didn’t bother to disguise it. “What’s got you so jumpy? So worried that you were thinking about stealing, even though you didn’t want to?”

She started talking then and the words rushed over themselves as if they’d been banked up too long and couldn’t wait to get out into the light of day. Vance listened without interrupting, though it cost him to keep his growing fury trapped inside. His grip on the water bottle tightened to the point where he half expected to crush the plastic container and be doused in icy water. And maybe that would have been a good thing. It might have gone a ways toward cooling off the fire of the rage pumping through his body.

When she finally finished talking, Vance couldn’t sit still a second longer. He jumped to his feet, paced off a step or two, and turned back to look at her. The hot wind teased the ends of her hair and sent leaf-painted shadows dancing across her face.

She stared up at him. “You’re angry.”

“Good call,” he said tightly. He tossed his nearly full bottle of water into a nearby trash can with such force it was like the crash of a gong.

It didn’t help any. Frustrated and furious, he shoved both hands through his hair. “Dammit, Charlie.”

“I wasn’t going to do it,” she said firmly, and stood up, grabbing his arm to force him to look at her. “You have to know that. I wasn’t going to sell Waverly’s out. To anyone. I wouldn’t do that to the house. Or to you.”

He snorted in disgust. “You think that’s why I’m mad?”

“Isn’t it?”

Vance looked down at her misery-filled eyes, and got mad all over again. “God, you must think I’m a real bastard.”

“No, I don’t,” she argued.

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?” His demand was short, sharp and to the point. He couldn’t believe this. Any of it. He’d been suspecting her of betrayal when all the time— “You’ve been threatened by some creep and you didn’t say anything? Why the hell not?”

The wounded expression on her face faded and was replaced by grim resolution. “Because it was my problem.”

“That’s not an answer, Charlie,” he said, voice thick with the fury nearly choking him. “You’ve been scared for two weeks and never said a damn word.”

“What was I supposed to say?” she argued. “If I had told you that I was being blackmailed, what could you have done? You’d have assumed that I was going to betray you.”

One short, sharp bark of laughter shot from his throat. “That’s great, thanks. Good to know the high opinion you have of me.”

Stunned, she tilted her head and looked at him. “You’re saying you would have believed me?”

“I believe you now,” he pointed out, irritated beyond belief that she thought so little of him. “The minute you finally told me what was going on, I believed you.”

“I had no way of knowing that. And besides, I didn’t need help. Or, I did,” she corrected, muttering now as her words came faster. “Okay, I did need help but I didn’t want to need help, you know? I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself and Jake and—God, I’ve made a mess of this.”

“Everybody needs help sometimes,” he told her, and realized that most of his anger was draining away. At least now he knew what was going on. Knew that she was being threatened and he could do something about it.

“You don’t,” she charged, and didn’t look happy about it.

“Wrong,” he said. “I need your help right now, to make sense of all this. You with me?”

She nodded and took another drink of water.

“So, someone you don’t know threatened you with losing your son unless you stole my files for the last five years?”

“Yes.” She huffed out a breath. Her pale blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but they were dry now. As if she had decided she’d spilled enough tears and now she was gathering her strength for whatever she might need. “I got the first email the day that article about Ms. Richardson was in the paper.”

“Probably not a coincidence,” he said wryly.

“That’s what I thought,” she agreed.

“The question is, why did this person think they could get Jake taken away from you?” He watched her. “I’ve seen you with him. Been at your apartment. You’re a good mother, providing a good home.”

“Thanks,” she said, a half smile curving one corner of her mouth briefly.

“There’s more going on here, Charlie. You haven’t told me everything.” The air was hot and still as the wind suddenly died away. The sounds of summer at the park were in the distance and in the lacy shade it felt as if they were alone in the world. “Tell me the rest, Charlie. Let me help.”

She tugged at the end of her long, blond ponytail, twisting the ends around her fingers in a nervous gesture. “I wish you could. Help, I mean. But you can’t help with this, Vance. Things are what they are. They can’t be changed.”

“Try me,” he said, steel in his tone. He’d never admit that there was something he couldn’t fix. Couldn’t set right. “You might be surprised at what I can manage.”

“Not even Vance Waverly can change the past.”

He stiffened at the words because he knew she was right—about that, at least. Vance was a take-charge guy. If something needed doing, he did it. In his world, things ran the way they were supposed to. Now. Of course, that wasn’t always the case.

If he could have changed the past, he’d have done it by now. He’d have saved his mother and sister from the car wreck that had killed them. He’d have somehow convinced his father to find Roark earlier so Vance could have known his brother before they were adults. Yeah, there was a hell of a lot he’d go back and change if he could. But if the past couldn’t be changed, then at least its impact on the present could be.

“If you don’t tell me, then for damn sure I can’t help,” he reasoned. “So what’ve you got to lose?”

“A lot,” she said so quietly he almost missed it. Then she looked at him again and he saw emotions crowding her eyes, so many he couldn’t separate them all. Whatever she was keeping locked away was tearing at her. And that ripped at him in turn.

“What’s this guy got on you, Charlie? What is it you’re so desperate to keep secret?”

She took a breath and blew it out. “Remember how I told you my grandmother raised me?”

“Yeah?” He led her back to the bench and sat down beside her.

“I didn’t tell you why.” She shook her head and a sad smile curved her mouth for a split second before disappearing again. “When I was five, my father robbed a grocery store.”

Vance hadn’t expected that. Her features were a mask of shame and humiliation, but he didn’t say anything because he was pretty sure there was more coming.

“He died in a chase with the police. Drove his car into a tree.”

“Charlie …”

“My mother left soon after that. I never saw her again.” She tore at the label on the water bottle, ripping one long strip off carefully, as if it were the most important thing in the world. “After that, my mother’s mom took me in and raised me.”

She lifted her gaze to stare out over the park again, deliberately keeping her gaze from his. “You know the old saying about ‘the wrong side of the tracks’? Well, that was us. Me. When Gran died, I left and came here and never told anyone where I was from.”

Vance felt for her. She’d had it tough and she’d come through to make something of her life. But none of this was enough to make for good blackmail.

“Come on, Charlie. There’s got to be more,” he said. “This isn’t blackmail material.”

She nearly choked on a swig of water. She half turned to fire a look at him. “Didn’t you hear me? My father was a thief. He died being chased by the police. My mother ran off and disappeared. Not exactly a picture-perfect background.”

“Not exactly your fault, either. You said you were five.”

“Easy for you to say,” she said, shaking her head and blinking back—thank God—a fresh sheen of tears. “You have no idea what it was like. Everyone in town gossiping about us. You couldn’t understand. How could you?”

“Thanks for the faith,” he muttered. “You’re not the only one people gossip about. Seen the newspapers? People are always talking about the Waverlys.”

“Yes, poor you,” she said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “How horrible to be followed to all your fancy dinners and be made to pose for pictures. Very intrusive.”

One eyebrow lifted. “Good to know you’ve got a temper. And a snide side, too.”

She frowned at him. “You’re only the second person I’ve ever told about myself. I would think you could understand how embarrassing this is for me.”

“I get that you’re embarrassed,” he said. “I just don’t get why. So you grew up poor. Who the hell cares?”

“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head more in temper than misery and Vance was glad to see it.

“Fine. I don’t understand. Now give me the rest of it.”

“Not much left,” she said primly, scooting away from him on the bench. “I put myself through college and when Gran died, I moved to New York.”

He moved in closer. “And Jake’s father?”

She pushed up from the bench and put a stranglehold on her water bottle. “Why not? Let’s just spill the last of the humiliation and get it over with.” She whirled around to face him and the look in her eyes had Vance standing to walk toward her.

But she held up one hand, palm out to keep him at bay. “Don’t be nice to me right now, okay? I’m hanging on by a thread here.”

“Okay, then finish it.”

“I met Jake’s father right after I was hired at Waverly’s.” She dropped her water bottle into the trash and crossed her arms over her chest. Scraping her hands up and down her forearms as if to ward off a bone-deep chill, she started talking again. “His name was Blaine Andersen—at least that’s what he told me.”

Vance didn’t say anything. He had a feeling he knew where this was going and nothing he could say would help the situation any.

“He was sweet and funny,” she mused. “We went for walks in the park and to movies. He brought me flowers. He even replaced my BlackBerry when I lost mine. He said he loved me and—”

“You loved him back.” Strange, but those words had a bitter taste to them.

“I thought I did,” she corrected. “When I found out I was pregnant, I went to tell him, but he was gone.” She shook her head as she remembered. “Familiar story, right? Small-town girl comes to the city and gets taken advantage of. God, I felt so stupid. I even went to the Andersen Architectural firm that he told me was his family’s. They’d never heard of him.”

“Charlie—”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, interrupting him. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I got Jake out of it and he’s everything to me.”

Vance gave her a grin, as he thought about the tiny boy who had already wormed his way into Vance’s heart. One more complication that he hadn’t planned on. “He’s a great kid.”

“Yeah.” She smiled back and it was her first real smile since this started. Vance was glad to see it, even if it did look a little trembly around the edges. “He really is.”

“So is that it? All your deep, dark secrets?”

“Well, I didn’t tell you about my wild addiction to chocolate-dipped strawberries, but other than that, yes. That’s it.” She sighed and added, “Feels like fifty pounds have fallen off my shoulders.”

“Not surprising. Why’d you keep it to yourself, Charlie?” His voice was quiet. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I’m used to taking care of myself, Vance,” she told him with another deep sigh. “And I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “I do.”

When she looked up at him, with hope shining in her eyes, he felt like a damn knight in shining armor, which he really wasn’t. Hell, half the people in Manhattan would be willing to swear that he was a villain, not a hero. But he certainly enjoyed seeing her look at him like that.

“So I’m not fired?” she asked.

“You will be if you ever hold out on me again.” He dropped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “Charlie, you don’t have to be alone in this.”

“I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Then it’s time to learn,” he muttered. Drawing her up against him, he wrapped both arms around her and held on. She fit—that’s all he could think of. Fit as if she were made to slide in next to him. As if she were the missing piece to his puzzle.

He closed his eyes and shut down that particular thought. He already knew he wanted her more than anything. Now that he knew she’d been terrorized, he felt bad for her. That’s all this was, he told himself.

Need and sympathy. Nothing more. And he’d do well to remember that.

“I don’t like your being scared,” he said softly.

“Me, neither.” She tipped her head back to look up at him and he was relieved to see that her eyes were clear. No more tears, no more shadows. She looked, he thought, too damn good.

When she went up on her toes and tilted her head to one side, everything in him tightened. But as much as he wanted her, he had to say, “Charlie, you don’t owe me anything.”

“This isn’t about owing,” she told him, dropping her gaze to his mouth before looking into his eyes again. “This is about wanting.”

He skimmed his hands up her body until he was cupping her face between his palms. Smiling, he whispered, “Wanting is something completely different.”

“Show me.”

He did. His mouth came down on hers and his heart nearly slammed through his chest. The taste of her filled him, the need for her was raw heat pumping through his bloodstream and when she parted her lips for him, he took a deeper taste and lost himself in it.

It was her soft sigh that brought him up out of a kiss he wanted to linger over for days. But when he did his lingering, they’d be alone. In a bed. Not in the middle of a damn park.

Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss and lifted his head to look down at her. Her eyes were glassy and her mouth full and ripe. It took everything he had not to kiss her again.

“We’re going back to the office, Charlie, and you’re going to show me every email this guy’s sent you.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she pulled in a deep breath. “Then what?”

“Then,” he said with a fierce smile, “we fight back.”