Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rain pounded against the sidewalk, but Bev told Len to stop the car. “I’ll just jump out and run under that awning,” she said. Len’s lips tightened into a grim line, but she opened the door and took off at a run before he could protest.

As she reached the awning, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly into the alley next to the hotel. Bev smiled up at him until she saw the hungry look in his eyes. Desire surged through her.

She circled her arms around his neck. “Eager to see me, Counselor?”

“Can’t tell you, I need to show you.” He crushed his mouth to hers and Bev returned the kiss with pent-up lust.

He dragged his mouth from hers. “This was stupid; I should have waited until we got to the hotel room.” He pushed the damp hair from his head. “We’re exposed out here.”

Bev looked around. “In an alleyway in South Boston? I doubt it.” She grabbed his lapel, pulled him close to her and whispered. “I don’t mind the rehearsal. It makes me wonder what’s in store for the real performance.”

His eyes heated. He closed them and took a breath. “Well, Miss Winslow,” he nipped at her lips. “Let’s get inside. It’s show time.”

****

“You’ll want to be careful.” He was just opening a bottle of wine to go with the pasta he’d brought from the North End. They had been too distracted by each other to think of food when they finally reached the hotel room.

The memory of their ferocious lovemaking burned in his brain. The floor was littered with their clothing, and he looked over at her. She looked lovely. She’d pulled back her damp hair with a band and had traded her suit for her usual jeans and black T-shirt. She’d just finished telling him about Serena and John’s visit to her office.

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “No kidding, Counselor. I thought I’d all of a sudden start trusting Serena and John. Maybe you and I can start going out in public too. There’s an idea. We could double-date with my aunt—who may or may not be trying to kill me.”

“Your sarcasm is especially refreshing tonight,” he handed her a glass of wine. “All I was saying is if I were you, I’d be on my guard. Even if it’s been over a month, someone is still after you. Who knows when they’ll crawl out of their hole? There is risk in us being together. If your stalker finds out, that could trigger something terrible.”

“I’m well aware of the threat. Give me some credit. Why else would I be meeting you in different hotels? My apartment is much more comfortable.”

He shook his head. “I’m not questioning your very exceptional brain power. I’m worried. And frustrated. I don’t want to stop being with you, but I’m worried about you in this situation.”

He sampled the pasta, offered her a plate across the coffee table where they sat. He wondered if she wanted more than what they were doing? Did she want some kind of normal? Would that scare her? God knew he hated the sneaking around. He wanted a “normal” date. Something told him she wasn’t ready. He liked where they were too much, despite the threat. He wouldn’t want to give up seeing her. He had it bad.

She twirled linguini around the tines of her fork. “I’m frustrated, too. I’d like to establish some type of normal life, and I haven’t been able to do that. For weeks I’ve been running Winslow Holdings, commuting between Boston and Maine, and holing up at random locations with you. It isn’t right.”

“Gee, thanks. Your description of our relationship speaks volumes.” He wasn’t going to let it bother him. She was under a lot of pressure.

“I just mean I’d like my freedom back. Reginald didn’t deal with this.”

“That’s true.” He let the freedom comment go. “Let’s look at this logically. On the list of things bothering you, what’s number one?”

“Besides someone out there hurting people I love who hasn’t come clean with their agenda? Isn’t the unknown threat enough of a worry?”

“Besides that.”

“That’s the big one causing all of the other little issues.”

“Little issues such as…?”

“I can’t go to Salem to see Megan, I can’t take a ride on my boat, I can’t check on Atlantic Charters when I want. I’m stuck here in Boston every day and night not knowing who to trust, and on top of that, I’m enduring visits from my aunt where she questions my fashion sense.” She tossed her plastic fork in her plate. “I sound petty. I’m just pissy tonight.”

“I can appreciate pissy. It happens.” He swallowed some wine. How to proceed? With caution. “If you need a hand picking out shoes, I’m sure Jules could help.”

“Nice to hear my lack of fashion ability is fixable,” she bit out. “How often do you go shopping with your assistant? Probably never.”

“Why are you mad? I’m not the problem here.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“All right, then why don’t we take your boat out this weekend?” He thought this was a safer topic than shoe shopping, judging from her previous reaction.

“Are you trying to handle me, Counselor?” Her voice went up a few decibels.

“I’m trying to solve your problems.”

“Last I checked—and this was corroborated by you mere minutes ago—my brain holds the power to solve my own problems.”

He winced. “I’m just trying to help. It’s what I do. Are we having our first fight?”

A small grin lit the corner of her mouth. “We’ve fought before.”

“But not since we’ve been a couple—” He stopped before he said something even more stupid.

“I told you I don’t do well with complications. Must you pigeonhole whatever we have?”

“I’m not doing that.” He threw down his napkin. “But so what if I was? Would it be so terrible to put a name to this? To call you my girlfriend or lover? Or is that too much for you too?” Her eyes went wide. He picked up his plate and brought it to the small sink in the hotel room. Took some measured breaths, then sat next to her.

“Let’s change the subject,” he rubbed her shoulders. “You don’t need to deal with this, too.”

“Okay.”

He felt her shoulders relax, tried not to be hurt. They’d figure something out. “Other than Serena, how was your day at work?” he asked, trying to will the awkward out of the room.

“Good, actually. There’s an issue with the Plymouth property I want to buy, but I think it’ll be fine. I’m waiting on revised contracts.”

“Want me to look them over?”

Her fork clattered when she pushed away her plate. “Absolutely not.”

“What is wrong?” He had no idea what he had done now.

“I don’t need you to solve my problems, fix my issues, or put me in a neat little compartment.” She shook him off her back. “I like doing things on my own, I like making my own decisions—right or wrong. I don’t need you or your assistant or Serena, God dammit, to help me.” Her fists were by her side, her eyes flamed.

He leaned against the sofa and folded his arms. He was sick of tiptoeing around this. It wasn’t his style.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help worrying about you or wanting more than you seem ready to give. I’m not trying to rush you or insult your intelligence or question your ability. I don’t doubt you can handle anything that comes your way. It’s one of the many reasons why I’m falling for you. When I care for someone, I tell them.” He took her hand, squeezed. Kissed her mouth and whispered, “I’ll give you some time to get used to it.” He kissed her again and walked out the door.

****

“You’re an idiot.” Jules offered him a tumbler of Scotch from the cabinet in his office. There was nowhere else to go, and Jules was still working.

“I know.” He swallowed and relished the burn. “I wasn’t trying to scare her. She just pissed me off.”

“So you thought confirming Serena’s comments about Bev’s shoes would help your cause?” Jules asked.

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” Jules laughed. “Listen, people in love fight. Beverly Winslow has enough going on in her life, and she didn’t need you to complicate things further. You can’t un-ring that bell, so figure out what to do now.”

“I can do that. And I didn’t say I was in love with her.”

“You didn’t have to say you were in love with her. Your actions speak for themselves. Just don’t expect rainbows from her when you try to figure this out,” Jules said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning your usual style might not work at first.”

“What’s my usual style?”

“Like in the courtroom, you have a quiet, relentless charm. You aren’t pushy, but you don’t give up. It’ll wear her down eventually.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously. You let your judges reach their own conclusions after you present the facts. They always go your way. And I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You’re already halfway there. Just let her figure it out on her own. She’ll come around.” Jules patted him on the back. “She probably already misses your gallant attempts at wooing. Who could resist a man who offers his assistant as a shopping buddy?”

“You’ve made your point.”

“And yet I feel it can’t be belabored.”

“Why are you here at seven on a Thursday? Where are the kids?” he asked, changing the topic.

“With my mother, being spoiled on homemade cupcakes,” Jules said. “I’m here because I got a call from the security company. Someone in a dark hoodie was snooping around our office today.” Jules’s lips thinned. “No ID. They told me they are on the lookout.”

He sat up. “Did they get into my office?”

“It looks that way. They came in while I was downstairs delivering papers to Ms. Donigan, and…” Jules hesitated.

“What?”

“Could this be the same person who sent the note threatening Beverly Winslow?”

He set his glass down. “Could be. Did Security say anything else? Was it a robbery attempt? We don’t keep anything valuable here. What were they looking for?”

“No idea, but from now on, I’ll lock up before I go anywhere else in the building,” Jules promised. “Security said no other office cameras triggered the alert. We can look at the footage if you want. I scanned it, but maybe you could send it along to the FBI for fresh eyes.”

“Good idea. Be careful too. I don’t like this.”

“Seems like we’ve had trouble since Reginald died. I’m sorry to say I think it has to do with the Winslows again,” Jules said.

“I agree, and it’s going to stop.”

“How do you propose to accomplish that?”

“I’m missing something. Will you pull all my correspondence to and from Reginald? Send it to me in an e-mail. I’ll start there. I’ve looked everywhere else.”

“You could be wasting your time,” she said.

“Maybe, but I have to do something. Beverly’s life depends on it.”

****

“Your informant is wasting our time.” Rage welled inside. Would this moron ever provide any useful information?

“I’m trying,” the little whiner complained. “They aren’t forthcoming without more money.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back. I may not want to kill Beverly Winslow, but I will hurt you.”

“I’m doing the best I can. I just don’t want anyone to die.”

“I want to watch Beverly Winslow fail in public. The Winslows owe me that much. I’ll have my public scandal. Now before I really get angry, tell me what you’re keeping from me, or it will be painful for you.” The thought of hurting this creature brought such joy.

“I don’t want any damage to come to Winslow Holdings,” he cried.

“Too bad. They’ll recover. Now tell me.” The demand echoed in the smelly warehouse.

“There is some evidence she is seeing the lawyer socially.”

“So the little slut is fucking Finn Callahan. Tell me why it matters.”

“It’s a long shot, but the board might consider it a breach of her contract. Everything she does is supposed to be above reproach. If there was a video or picture…”

“Finally you’ve provided something I can use. I’ll make all the arrangements.” Calm overtook the rage that had been building inside. Now there would be peace.

“You’ve just saved your skin. For now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything. But I’ll give you a warning. If the time comes for you to turn against Beverly Winslow, you’d better be prepared to do so. You don’t want to disappoint me.”