Five in a Row Page 4

  She didn’t have to worry about the ups and downs that Liz went through because of her love life. The uncertain beginnings, the disappointments, the temporary emotional thrills, the occasional heartaches, the annoyances caused by pests who couldn’t take a hint. No, she’d quite happily take a pass on all that.

  At least, that was what she’d made herself believe over the years.

  When the rush began to subside, Emily slipped quietly off her stool and disappeared into the tiny office. The mysterious package on her desk was the first thing that caught her eye. She ignored it and turned on her computer. Thumbing through the day’s mail, she neatly separated the bills from the junk mail from the catalogues. Once the computer had booted up, she scrolled through the hundred-plus e-mails she’d received overnight.

  The box remained in her peripheral vision. As always, the mystery of it tugged at her.

  Finally giving in, she grabbed a pair of scissors and opened the package. The Unabomber would have had a field day with somebody like her. No thought for safety. Just cut through the tape and rip open the top. She shook her head as she pushed away foam peanuts.

  “What have you sent me this time?” she asked, looking carefully at the rectangular shaped jeweler’s box that lay nestled in the packing material.

  She took it out and examined it before opening it. There was no marking on the velvet covering. Nothing to indicate what shop it had come from. Pushing the packaging to the side, she placed the box on the desk and opened it.

  “A watch!” she whispered.

  An old man’s watch, with an oversized face and large numbers and hands. She picked it up and stared at the thing, trying to understand its significance, intrigued by the puzzle of it. The gifts she’d received before generally had some thought behind them. They’d all been relevant to something she’d mentioned in passing in her talks or in her workshops or online. A smile broke across her lips. This had to, as well.

  She placed the watch back on her desk and carefully dumped the rest of the packing material into her trash can. As the last of it tumbled out, a plain white envelope fell out, as well.

  “So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Emily asked as she opened the envelope.

  There was no note inside. Not even the customary Post-it with the neat block letters, A Fan. Emily pulled out a folded newspaper clipping, the only thing in the envelope. She opened it and stared at the article. It was from the local weekly paper.

  High School Principal Hospitalized

  Wickfield Police are investigating a one-car accident involving the high school’s new principal. Scott Peterson took a wrong turn Monday evening and crashed into construction equipment on school property. The incident, which occurred following the…

  Emily was startled by a soft knock on her open door. Liz stood in the doorway, staring at her curiously. “Em, are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You look kind of pale, all of a sudden. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Nothing is the matter.” She dropped the clipping on her desk and pushed herself to her feet. She felt shaky. The connection was clear enough now. She’d been late for her online class on Monday. So she needed a watch to keep track of time. The Petersons’ accident had occurred on Monday. “Do you need me at the counter again?”

  “No,” Liz said, looking over the desk. Her gaze focused on the watch. “Another gift from your weirdo?”

  She nodded, but then shrugged indifferently and started around the desk. “The weirdo, not my weirdo. So, you have another order that needs delivering?”

  Liz shook her head and glanced over her shoulder before stepping into the room. Emily pulled up short as her sister put a hand on her shoulder.

  “You were dead-on the money.” Liz arched one eyebrow, her voice becoming a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s tall, dark and handsome. He’s here and—unfortunately—asking for you.”

  Four

  The food looked way too wholesome for his taste, and the jury was still out about the atmosphere.

  Standing in front of a pair of side-by-side refrigerated drink cases, Ben Colter shifted his attention from the paper menu in his hand to the artwork on the wall. Behind the counter, the space next to a cappuccino machine was covered with framed newspaper features and obviously favorable magazine reviews of the Eatopia Café. A plaque boasting a Best of Connecticut award had been hung dead center.

  “Can I get by?”

  “Sure thing.” He stepped out of the way to let a young woman with blue spiked hair get a drink out of one of the refrigerators.

  He glanced around at the framed, oversized prints of Hirschfeld caricatures. Marlon Brando. Barbara Streisand. Leonard Bernstein. Duke Ellington. Bette Midler. Jerry Garcia. A dozen or so black-and-white drawings of the more chic members of American theater and music, all done in Hirschfeld’s clever, cosmopolitan style. Ben had never been a big fan. But still, the collection fit in well with the cool jazz coming through the speakers mounted on the wall. The dozen tables in the place were all occupied and customers stood in a line seven deep at the counter.

  He saw Emily the moment she stepped out of the office and watched as she came down the back hallway with her sister. If Jeremy Simpson hadn’t mentioned it, Ben would have never guessed the relation between the women. The two looked nothing alike. Emily had dark hair, dark eyes and porcelain skin that seemed to glow. Her sister, on the other hand, was a redhead with blue eyes and dusting of freckles. Each, in her own way, was built very nicely, in spite of the six-inch height difference between them. Ben sensed that was only the start of the differences between the two sisters. He pushed his way through the waiting customers toward them.

  Liz sent him a come-hither smile as she went back to work at the counter, but Emily’s face was serious. Ben wished she would show at least half as much enthusiasm as her sister, considering what he was about to ask her…again.

  “Let me guess,” she said, reaching him. “You’re here to collect half of my tip from the police station.”

  She had a deep, sexy voice. That alone should have made him remember before. “No. Actually, I’m here to brag that I was right. About us meeting before.”

  A slight frown creased her brow at the same time a gentle blush colored her cheeks. “We haven’t met. I’m sure of it.”

  “Technically, you’re right. But I have seen you before. From a distance. You were giving a talk.”

  Ben saw the change in her face.

  “Well, that’s not exactly—”

  “And we have corresponded.”

  She actually looked startled and shot a glance back toward the office.

  “My name is Ben Colter. I own a special investigation unit.”

  He waited for a couple of seconds for the information to register and then extended a hand toward her. The blush immediately deepened. A small laugh escaped her lips, and she shook his hand.

  “Of course, Colter Associates. How could I forget? You sent me a letter with a job offer after the computer expo in Philadelphia this past July.”

  “Not only a letter,” he added. “I also left two voice-mail messages for you.”

  “And I returned them…at least, one of them. It looked to me like we could be playing phone tag forever, so I sent you an e-mail.”

  They had to step to the side as more customers came in.

  “You rejected my offer and didn’t give me any opportunity to pursue you. You wouldn’t be wooed, Emily Doyle.”

  She smiled up at him. “You’re not still hurt, are you, Mr. Colter?”

  “Actually, I am,” Ben said, pretending to look crushed. She laughed again, and he liked the sound of it.

  In truth, though, he really did want her. Ben wasn’t one to make offers lightly. His company was a success, and his team worked like a finely tuned machine, for the most part. Gina, Adam and Ben himself didn’t need levels of management, and they all fought growth when it came to personnel. With the exception of Linda Holmes, their o
ffice manager in New York, who wore different hats on different days of the week and hired temporary help whenever she was bogged down with paperwork, they all knew their jobs and functioned well together. Investigating white-collar crimes involving inadequate network security was the fastest-growing part of their business, though, and this was one area where they lacked expertise. All three of them had attended the expo in Philly. All of them wanted Emily on board.

  Another couple walked inside the crowded restaurant, and Ben and Emily found themselves pushed even farther into a corner. He sensed her discomfort with all the people and the rising noise level. “Is there a more private place where we could talk?”

  “About what?” Emily asked.

  “Look, I head a very successful company, and it’s not too often that my associates and I all agree on the recruitment of a certain individual to join our operation.”

  “I’m truly honored, but my answer hasn’t changed.”

  “Can I at least be given a reasonable explanation? Something to stroke my ego?” Ben cracked a half smile. “I’m very sensitive, you know.”

  That did it. She looked around at the tables. All of them were still full.

  “I’ll take you out to lunch if you’ll let me,” Ben offered. “Someplace less hip and with more calories on the menu.”

  When she looked back at him, she had a pretty smile on her face. She paused, but then shook her head. “I can’t. I have to pick my son up after school.” She motioned with her head toward the back. “I do have a little office where we can talk.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Ben hadn’t missed the glances being directed their way by the two women behind the counter. As they passed, Emily’s sister whispered something to her that he didn’t catch. Emily Doyle, though, was obviously not used to this kind of attention, because she turned several shades of red as she started down the hall toward the office. Before he could follow, Liz managed to cut in front of him, reaching for a hand towel on a shelf as Emily disappeared into the office.

  “Can I get you anything? Some lunch, a drink…anything?”

  Ben looked at her. She was pretty, chipper, and very good at making the most out of her assets. She was wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and low-slung jeans that showed a couple inches of flat midriff. She was like a lot of the women he went out with. He was sure Liz could talk a guy into the sack on a first date without much difficulty.

  “No, I’m fine.” He tried to go around her.

  “I’m here if you need me,” she said with a wink.

  “I won’t forget,” he said with a roguish smile.

  Inside the tiny office, he found that Emily had barricaded herself behind a battered desk that filled most of the room. She was shelving some technical manuals on a bookcase behind her. She turned and motioned to an old metal office chair next to the door.

  “Sorry, there’s not much room for visitors.”

  He eyed the space between the chair and the desk, deciding that there wasn’t enough room for his legs if he sat. Instead, he leaned against a four-drawer filing cabinet next to the door. Above it, he glanced at the photographs of what looked like Emily’s family pinned to a corkboard. One picture had Emily and her sister with a young Asian-American boy. They looked like they’d just rolled down a grassy hill and were all laughing.

  He looked back at her. On her side of the desk, there was a computer on a rolling cart that had been positioned under the manuals shelf. A printer sat on another filing cabinet. Every other space was stacked high with boxes of restaurant supplies, books, and papers. The clutter surprised him.

  “So, this is where you work?”

  “For an hour or two, five days a week.” Emily looked uncomfortable as she glanced about the room herself. It appeared as if she were trying to see the cramped area through his eyes. “I have an office at home that is not so…chaotic. That’s where my brilliance really shines through.”

  The fact was, Ben knew, she was brilliant. And he knew that not only because of a bachelor’s degree from Columbia and a master’s from MIT. Her research and her publications on various areas of network security were well known in the industry. And that was why the offer Ben had made to her was on the high end of the scale, with all kinds of bonuses and incentives added on. It was a damn good package that most people would jump at. But she hadn’t.

  He decided to get right to it. “Was your involvement with this place the reason why you wouldn’t consider our offer?”

  “Yes and no,” Emily responded. She sat down, looking very small and delicate in an ancient red leather chair that had to be stolen from a lawyer’s office. “I have to admit, your offer made me blink a few times. I had to look at it hard, I don’t mind telling you. I even decided to sleep on it.”

  “But it was only a one-night stand. We didn’t even make it to the weekend.”

  Her smile shone through again. “You do have a good memory.” She leaned back in the chair, looking very serious again. “In my last life, I would have leaped at it. To be honest, it was the most handsome employment offer I’ve ever received. I didn’t want it, though. I answered you quickly because I just wanted to put the temptation behind me.”

  “So you were tempted. That has a promising ring to it.”

  She bit her lip to stop another smile and shook her head. “It’s my personal life. My time with my family was—and is—something that I’m not willing to jeopardize.”

  Back in July she hadn’t been married. He’d learned that much from some of the regulars at the expo. “One of our partners, Gina Ellis, is a well-respected attorney. She juggles family and her job. Because we’re as small as we are, Colter Associates can be very flexible. We—”

  “My answer is the same,” she said, interrupting him. She shook her head. “See how difficult it is to explain it? I don’t really want to debate the issue. I’m a single mother of a great teenager, Mr. Colter. The years my son and I are going to have together before he goes off to carve out his own path in the world are too few. I’m not willing to miss that time. I’ve consciously made personal and career decisions that have tailored our lifestyle just so I can be here for him. Yes, this means less money. It means not taking high-powered jobs. It means minimal travel and living in a place where most people are married and have three-car garages with two-point-five kids and a dog. But I’ve chosen Wickfield because it’s a place that I think is safe. Other women make the choice that works for them and their families. This is the choice that I’ve made, and I plan to stick with it.”

  Ben couldn’t fault her thinking. This was exactly the same kind of upbringing his parents had given him. The big difference had been that he’d had two parents who stayed together. True, his father worked his tail off, but his mother was always there, and there weren’t too many dinners that they hadn’t shared as a family. Emily was trying to do all of that herself.

  “I respect your decision and your values,” he said quietly.

  The puzzled look that flashed across her face told him that she hadn’t expected this comment. She seemed lost for words for a couple of seconds. Then, she just nodded and started shuffling some papers on her desk.

  “That doesn’t mean that I can’t come back for you in…say, how many years?”

  Her laugh filled the office. Her eyes—large, dark, and beautiful—showed her amusement. “Maybe four.”

  “I’ll mark my calendar.” He straightened up and looked at the odd collection of things on her desk. A number of ceramic pieces that he assumed had been made by her son as some school project. There was an ugly watch. Three cups holding a collection of pen and pencils. A large seashell with paperclips. A newspaper clipping of the Petersons’ accident on top of a pile of papers. There was nothing feminine in evidence. Nothing to give even a glimpse of who the other Emily Doyle was—not the computer genius, not even the mother. He wondered about the person beneath all that.

  She was not like the women Ben had relationships with. In general, he stayed aw
ay from brainy ones.

  He caught himself short, surprised at the direction of his thoughts.

  “Looks like I’m stuck in your little corner of Utopia for a few more days. So is there any life after hours in Wickfield?”

  “I’d be the wrong person to ask about that,” Emily admitted quietly. “My sister Liz is pretty familiar with the social hangouts, though. I’m sure she could recommend a place or two.”

  Ben knew he didn’t want recommendations from Liz. This was the problem with spending time in the backwoods, he told himself. Even his taste in women got a little screwy.

  Or maybe he really just didn’t like being rejected.

  “That’s okay. Maybe I’ll see you around town again before I leave.”

  She gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s a small town.”

  Five

  “The San Diego accident appears to be just like the others I’ve looked at so far,” Adam said into his phone as he kicked off his shoes. “There is no sign of anything malfunctioning.”

  Pulling aside the sheer blinds, he slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the small balcony overlooking the pool. The crowd around the bar was three deep, and Happy Hour was just getting started. The beat of salsa music filled the air. He looked down at the handful of people still lying on beach towels and chairs, trying to absorb the last rays of sun. The golden orb in the west was just about to sink below the line of palm trees by the single-story lobby that linked the two wings of the hotel. The tanned skins of the drinkers and sunbathers glowed in the descending light. A soft breeze was moving the sultry Miami air, and Adam looked out at the boats bobbing on the glassy water offshore.