Teasing The Boss (2 page)

Breathing at a normal pace again, he pushed the door open and strode past the receptionist and a few rows of cubicles until he reached the small office he’d been given for the duration of the project. Not his favorite setup, but his fee was high enough that he didn’t complain.

As he waited for the laptop to boot up, he scrolled through his mobile email that had accumulated during the forty-minute walk from his Manhattan apartment to the office. He used to take cabs to his clients every morning, but he found a walk in the morning was so much more beneficial than getting a few emails taken care of.

Once his computer booted up, he opened up the latest earnings report and studied the numbers and percentages. His mind made note of inferences and conclusions with each new page. Something was off. Simon’s brow crinkled as he tried to pinpoint what was bothering him. The numbers on the screen could be better, but were a hell of an improvement over the balances a year ago.

He glanced around, trying to locate what was nagging at him. Everything seemed fine in his office. He didn’t have any pictures or personal items in the temporary work space, but the red pen and pencil he always had handy still sat neatly and perpendicular to the edge of the desk.

What else could be throwing him off? He thought back earlier to the desperate pleas of Grace Bell.

Simon couldn’t forget the image of Grace looking utterly defeated as he’d turned her down. But what the hell was he supposed to do with her? The idea that a respected, at least formerly respected, senator ran out to every news outlet that would take him to declare his infidelity was almost impossible to swallow. The idea that he was lying about having an affair made no sense.

But Grace hadn’t seemed as though she was bullshitting him. Simon had dealt with enough shady characters in his time to recognize the warning signs. Besides, desperation like that was hard to fake.

He tried his best to forget about her, lose himself in the patterns and figures in front of him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was missing something.

He considered himself a logical man, more logical than most probably, but he’d learned to trust his gut long ago. So when those big blue eyes popped into his head for the thousandth or so time, he stopped trying to ignore it. Instead, he brought up the Internet browser and typed in
Grace Bell
.

As expected, the screen was filled with the recent stories about her affair: speculation about when it had started, whether she was the senator’s first mistress, and whether the affair would stop now that it was in the open. The picture that accompanied the article was one Simon was familiar with. Robert held Grace in his arms as she stared wide-eyed at the cameras. There were also other pictures of him keeping his face hidden as he moved past the paparazzi, holding Grace close the entire time.

She sure as hell looked confused, but that didn’t mean she was telling the truth. Even if she and Bar were together, she probably wasn’t expecting that when the doors opened.

He stared at those wide eyes, so different from the composed woman he’d just met. A deer in the headlights of the car that was about to run her over. He ripped himself from the spell and decided to take a different tactic. He typed her name again, but this time set an image search.

Once again he was confronted with the plethora of elevator paparazzi pictures. But as he scrolled down farther and farther, there were more of her posing with various high rollers of the city. She must really have a strong business if these were the guests at her events.

She didn’t look old enough to have made all these connections on her own. Maybe late twenties, early thirties. She must’ve inherited someone’s book of business worth millions. He could see how the scandal would ruin her in more ways than one. If the elite of the city truly thought she was a tramp, she’d never book a high-end party like she was used to again.

These were election fundraisers, grand opening galas for big businesses, and high-end charity events. Not weddings and sweet sixteens.

Simon rubbed at his eyes. Even if he felt for the girl, he’d told the truth earlier in the morning. He was busy, and she wouldn’t have the money to afford him anyway.

But for some reason, he scrolled down once more, trying to get a better sense of this woman’s life before it was in shambles. His heart froze in his chest as he immediately recognized a man in one of the images.

The picture was innocent enough. Grace stared intently at a man; a smile tugged at her red lips. But it was the man who had his full attention this time. Mark DuFord. The con artist of Wall Street.

The same man who’d eluded Simon for six years. Constantly one step ahead or getting a lucky break at the last moment. Simon had been so close to getting DuFord behind bars a few months ago that he’d already had the FBI on speed dial.

But at the last minute, Simon’s perfect bait backed out, tipped DuFord off that Simon wasn’t on the up-and-up and ruined any chance he had to catch the con artist again.

Until now. Grace might not have enough cash lying around to afford his normal rates, but if she could somehow get him in touch with DuFord, he might have a chance to get his revenge after all.

His fingers scrambled over the keyboard, and in seconds, he had the Bell Planning website up and scribbled down the address. It was about half an hour drive by cab. Without hesitation, he shut his laptop and collected his things.

Grace Bell could be the key he’d been searching for.

“I’m sorry. I tried. I really, really did.”

Andre set an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “And you’re not done trying,” he said.

“Thanks,” she muttered. She’d spent the morning huddled in her office, frantically researching the superstars of public relations that she might be able to reach out to, but she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that she was screwed.

And not in the way Robert Bar claimed.

The phone on Andre’s desk rang and he pulled away from her. “What are the chances it’s good news?” he asked with a grin.

She shook her head. She supposed it was better to smile through the pain. If this call was anything like the hundred other calls they’d fielded, it was another reporter thinking they could get the interview that no one else had been granted.

Or worse. A client calling to release her. She’d stop answering the phone altogether, but the slight chance that it was new or returning business compelled her to listen to every voicemail and answer those damn rings.

“Bell Planning. This is Andre. How can I help you?” he asked in a cheery voice.

Grace pushed her shrimp fried rice around in the cardboard carton it came in as she moved to the window. She leaned a hip against the sill, making sure to stay mostly in the shadow of the building, so no one could see in.

There weren’t as many reporters as there’d been initially. They hadn’t tracked her down after her talk with Simon, so no one officially knew she was at the office, and she’d worn her suddenly useful auburn wig as she’d entered through the back.

But she’d have to go home eventually. Hell, she’d have to walk her dog eventually. Poor thing had stayed with her neighbors for five days already. For the first time in years, she yearned for a private yard to call her own. She and Princess had been so content with the eight-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment for almost half a decade, but now they were being pushed out. Viewed as an intruder and interrupter of the peace.

“I’m sorry; Grace isn’t in at the moment. Can I help you with anything or take a message?” said Andre from behind her.

A cab stopped in front of the building. Grace ducked back a bit farther and peeked an eye out. It was hard to make out details from the tenth floor, but she could see well enough as long as she had her glasses on. The man didn’t exactly look like a reporter, but she’d learned that the press came in all shapes and sizes in the past few days. She couldn’t see his face as he was paying the driver but she didn’t mind the view.

Grace took another bite of rice as she saw the play of muscles through a nicely fitted gray suit. One of the benefits of living in a major city was that there was never a shortage of attractive men. And another redhead.

What were the chances she’d see two hot redheads in one day?

The hottie turned and Grace’s carton of rice tumbled to the ground. Simon West.

“It’s him,” she breathed.

“Nah, I think it was a reporter. They didn’t say much, but totally flaked when asked what kind of event it was. One of these days they’re going to have an entire gala completely planned out and we won’t realize we’ve been had until they get through the door.”

Grace blinked a few times as she stared at him. “No. Not who was on the phone. I mean, it’s
him
. Simon West just walked into the building.”

A smile covered Andre’s face. “He’s going to help us!”

“Shit,” she muttered as she ran to the other side of the office and snatched some paper towel. She frantically wiped at the spilled rice. Luckily a good portion stayed in the carton, but she didn’t need Simon walking into a pigsty.

“Don’t you worry about that.” Andre leaned down to help. “Security is probably going to kick him out when he says he’s here to see you. Now you better get down there and work your magic on that man.”

Funny, she didn’t feel very magical at the moment. Andre picked up right where she left off and cleaned up her mess. Her heart clenched at the sight of such a talented, smart man on his hands and knees, cleaning up spilled food. He deserved to keep his job, and she owed it to him to fight her hardest to keep the business going.

“Okay. Snag a Simon, take two.” She pushed herself up and smoothed the front of her jeans, a habit burned into her from wearing skirts on almost a daily basis. She rushed out of the office and then ran to the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to climb the ten stories to her.

Her mind filled with images of Simon West changing his mind. Deciding he was crazy for even coming and retreating back into the summer heat to flag down a car. Or maybe security had kicked him out already, and he’d re-convinced himself she wasn’t worth the trouble.

Doubt crept deeper in her mind as she got on the elevator and it started its descent. What had changed since that morning? He’d seemed so sure that he wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe he wasn’t even there for her. He could just have another appointment in the building.

Or she could’ve seen wrong. Her wishful thinking had convinced her that the handsome redhead below her was exactly the redhead she’d wanted to see.

But as soon as the doors opened, there was no mistaking Simon West talking in a hushed voice with the security guard who stood next to the receptionist.

“Mr. West,” she called, making sure the guard knew he was an acceptable guest.

He turned; his dark eyes found hers, and Grace took a deep gulp. She had the distinct impression that he could’ve talked his way past the guard if given enough time. Quite a feat considering hundreds had tried to get past in the last few days.

“Ms. Bell,” said the guard. “I’m sorry for any misunderstanding.”

She tore her gaze from Simon as she approached the desk. “It’s not your fault at all, Jared. I didn’t realize Mr. West was stopping by today, or else I would’ve told you.” She focused on Simon once again, but, if anything, his scrutiny had only intensified. “Um,” she muttered. “I’m sure you understand that things have been a bit…hectic recently. Jared has been instrumental in keeping the vultures out of my office.”

“I completely understand. It’s great that you’re going through such lengths to help out Grace,” he said as he moved in closer to her.

The use of her first name seemed somehow off…too intimate. But she let it slide as she shot Jared one last smile. “Thanks again.”

Before she could lead Simon to the elevators, he was already ahead of her, as though he’d been there plenty of times before. She quickened her pace to catch up with him as he hit the up arrow. “I’m so happy you reconsidered.”

The doors opened and he held a hand out to signal her to get on first. He followed her in and the elevator climbed. “I did a bit of research on your case, and I think there might be more to this story than meets the eye.”

She let out a sigh of relief. Finally! Someone who believed she wasn’t a home-wrecking trollop and would help her convince the world. “Did you get a good look at those atrocious photos? I thought it was pretty obvious that nothing was going on between us.”

His brows drew together. “He was holding you in his arms.”

Grace deflated a bit. If the pictures hadn’t convinced him, what had? “I admit the position was a bit compromising, but there was absolutely
no
chemistry in those photos.”

“I didn’t realize that it was possible to keep the ‘spark’ when being mobbed by the press.”

The doors opened, and this time, Simon let her take the lead as she maneuvered through the drab hallway to her office. “One of the services I offer is photo coaching.”

He halted and frowned down at her. “Really?”

“It’s unofficial, but the clients love it. People who’ve never taken a good photo in their life suddenly can look at any camera with the right head tilt and smile. The events I work on only last a night, but if there are photos taken, those are what will stay with the client. So it’s win-win if they happen to look fantastic in the photos. Trust me, I can take a look at a panoramic shot of a crowded room and probably point out who’s doing it, who’s getting divorced, and, lately, I’ve even developed a rather impressive gaydar.”

He nodded, and his thick red brows drew together again.

“You think I’m crazy now,” she muttered. Darn it. She should’ve played her cards closer. Kept her more outlandish business tricks and secrets to herself. Now he was probably sure she was some vain floozy who’d been caught red-handed with the senator.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he assured her. “I just had to reassess your intelligence.” She opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about, but he answered before she spoke. “I mean you’re smarter than I thought.”