Destiny Unknown Page 10

The moment he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake. Her glare turned to pure ice. "Why is it you men always want to blame everything on PMS? For decades you didn't believe we women even had anything like that, now it's the panacea for all behavior that doesn't suit your fancy."

  "Rough day, I take it."

  She drew in a breath, turned away, and walked around to her chair. Only when she was seated, her desk again between them, did she look his way. "It's been a hell of a day, so whatever you have to say, make it fast. I don't have time for chit chat or games."

  "This is no game." And what he had to say wasn't going to make her day any better, but Cody knew he couldn't help that. Either the lady was a thief or she needed his help. Needed it desperately. "I was over at True Fidelity today, talking to Frank Pierce about the new development. Your name came up, and he asked me a rather disturbing question."

  "Which was?" Her posture was rigid, her tone suspicious.

  Cody didn't answer. Pulling up one of the two leather chairs in front of her desk, he settled himself into a comfortable position. Maybe a little game playing wasn't a bad idea, a little stalling to put her on edge. "You look tired," he said.

  "I'm not tired. I have a headache." She rubbed her fingertips over her right temple, her shoulders drooping a little. The lapse in her defensive attitude lasted only a moment, then her hand dropped back to the desk top, and she glared at him. "But that's beside the point. What was this question Frank asked that disturbed you so much you had to invade my office?"

  "Taken anything for it . . . your headache, that is?"

  "No, and—"

  From his jacket pocket, he pulled a bottle of aspirins and gave it a toss, landing it on her desk in front of her. She looked down at the bottle, then back at him.

  "I always carry some with me," he said. "Take a couple."

  She picked up the bottle but didn't open it. "Are you going to tell me this question Frank asked, or do I have to call him to find out?"

  It seemed he couldn't put it off any longer. "Actually, there were two questions Frank asked. First he wanted to know how well I knew you. Then he wanted to know if I trusted you."

  "If you trusted me?"

  "He's concerned." Cody decided to simply ask. "What he'd like to know—I guess what we'd both like to know—is why you opened a personal account at True Fidelity one day after Parker Morgan left on his honeymoon."

  "What personal account?" Her frown brought the carefully sculpted lines of her blond brows together.

  "The account that's being fed into on a daily basis from Morgan's Department Stores."

  She sat forward, the rigid control slipping. "You're out of your mind."

  "Am I?" He hoped she had a better explanation than that.

  "I have a personal savings and checking account at the First of America Bank here in town, but nothing at True Fidelity, though Frank has hinted that I should switch my money over to his bank."

  "His records show that you opened an account on the third Monday in February. The next day, money was electronically deposited into that account. Not a lot of money. I think it was thirty dollars that first day."

  "I didn't put thirty dollars in any account."

  "Not you. The transfer came directly from Morgan's. Since then, deposits have been made on a daily basis. Never huge amounts. Twenty, thirty dollars at a time. All transfers. All coming from Morgan's."

  Cody knew when she understood what he was suggesting. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly. "And you think I—? Frank thinks—?" She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Either you two are crazy, or I am."

  "Well, I know I'm not crazy." Though she was driving him crazy. "And I don't think you are."

  She took in a breath, and looked at him again. The fire was gone from her eyes, replaced by clouds of concern. "Then you tell me why I would open an account at a bank and not remember it. Why I would okay an ad for the Press that had all the wrong prices. Give me one good reason why I would supposedly cancel an order for dresses we desperately need on the racks. I'll even bet Frank has my signature on something authorizing the account at his bank."

  "He said he has." Cody had asked if Bernadette had actually come in in person and opened the account. Frank had said no, but he had all the paperwork and her signature card on file.

  Frank had really gone beyond proper business ethics by telling Cody about the account. It was friendship that had initiated the conversation: Frank's friendship with him and with Parker. Frank had asked how well he knew Bernadette, then had wondered aloud if Parker really knew his sister-in-law. Cody had taken it from there, coercing more information from Frank. Now he needed more information from Bernadette. "Explain the connection between your opening an account at True Fidelity and a dress order and an ad."

  "No connection that I'm aware of, other than my signature seems to be appearing all over the place, and people keep telling me I've done things I know I haven't."

  She handed him a folded piece of paper, and Cody quickly opened it and scanned the page. It was a copy of the art work for Morgan's weekly ad, and in the lower right corner, was a date and Bernadette Sanders' signature okaying the ad.

  "I didn't sign that," she said. "I signed advertising copy for last Sunday's ad, but it wasn't this copy. I would never approve an ad with those prices."

  "But this is your signature?"

  "It's mine, or a damned good forgery. And the signature's not a Xerox copy. The original, the one on file at the Press, is in blue ink. And in California, I have a supplier who swears I sent a cancellation form to him on an order that was supposed to be delivered last week. He says he has the form with my signature. He's sending me a copy. Again, he says the signature is in blue ink while the rest is typed."

  "And you usually use blue ink when you sign something?"

  "Not always, but usually. Yes."

  "So suddenly you have orders cancelled, ads running with the wrong prices, and—"

  "A bank account I didn't open." Once again, she frowned. "I'm not skimming Parker. I wouldn't do that, even if he weren't my brother-in-law."

  "Well, someone's certainly trying to make it look as if you are."

  "But why?" She closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging slightly and her head drooping. "Why is any of this happening?"

  Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and her chin came back up. "Ben?"

  Cody considered the idea. "You took his job. He might think he could discredit you, make you look bad, and get his job back. I'd say it was a real possibility."

  "But how is he doing it?"

  That was the question they needed to answer. Cody handed back the ad copy. "Does Ben have you sign things? Orders? Forms? Anything where he could slip something else in that you might sign without knowing?"

  She shook her head. "I always read everything I sign."

  "You never get in a rush?"

  Bernadette started to say no, then stopped herself. Normally she didn't get in a rush, but with Parker gone, nothing had been normal. "Maybe once in a while."

  "So Ben could sneak something through 'once in a while'?"

  Once again, she picked up the bottle of aspirins on her desk. This time, she opened it and shook two into the palm of her hand. She didn't want to think Ben would do such a thing. They'd had their differences, but she liked the man. He—

  Cody rose to his feet, and she stopped her thoughts to watch him walk to her office door. He'd popped back into her life, had basically accused her of being a thief, then had suggested she was being framed by someone. Now, it looked like he was leaving.

  She wasn't sure why she was surprised. That's what her father always did—showed up for a while, played the hero, then took off. No explanations given. No warnings.

  Cody opened the door and called out. "Anne, could you get Ms. Sanders a glass of water, please?"

  The moment Cody started back to his chair, Bernadette looked away. She didn't want him to see her relief. She didn't want him to think she gave a damn if he stayed or left. "Tha
nk you," she mumbled and set the aspirins aside to wait for the water.

  She was in control again by the time he sat down. "I'll call Frank," she said. "Have him close that account."

  Cody shook his head. "I'd call him, if I were you, but don't close the account. Explain what's going on and have him monitor things from his end, then alert the authorities. Don't bring them here. You go to them. Around here, don't let on that you even know about the account. Don't talk to Ben or anyone about it. The less you seem to know, the better your chances are of finding out something."

  "Finding out something or running Parker out of business." She once again held up the ad page. "This cost the stores money. Not having merchandise on hand costs us money. Every time I turn around, something is happening that equals a financial loss for Morgan's.

  From a folder on her desk, she pulled another sheet of paper. "This is a note from one of our security guards. I followed up on what you said Saturday, on what Loren told you. First, I asked several of our senior associates if they'd seen anything suspicious, any signs of shoplifting. Two said they've seen a man and two women who have aroused their suspicions. So I alerted security, and found this on my desk this morning."

  She handed Cody the paper, but went on to summarize what it said. "Carl is the guard on duty during the day. He thinks we're being hit here, and that the trio's targeting departments where the clerks on the floor aren't very attentive. Of course, if we're being hit here, we're probably being hit at the Twenty-eighth Street store, too. And if these shoplifters know which clerks are inattentive, they know the stores well . . . know our personnel."

  Cody glanced over the note, then back at her. "Have you had any more problems with your electronic surveillance system?"

  "Every day. They're driving us crazy. I'm ready to pull all of them and get a new system."

  A sharp rap on her door pulled Bernadette's attention that direction. "Come in," she called out.

  Anne entered with a paper cup of water. She smiled at Cody, and Bernadette suppressed a smile of her own. The guy was a lady killer, that's what he was. Young and old, they fell at his feet.

  As soon as Bernadette had the water, she swallowed the aspirins, but she waited until Anne had left the room and she and Cody were again alone and the door was closed before pursuing the conversation. "At least it's nice to know I'm not going out of my mind."

  "It's nice for me to know you're not a thief."

  "So you did think I was." Disappointment cut through her.

  "If I really thought you were, I wouldn't have come here to see you."

  "I could be lying."

  "You could be, but I don't think you are."

  "You barely know me. What's it been? Two weeks since we met?"

  "Two weeks and a day." He grinned. "I'd like to know you better, but you keep pushing me away."

  She remembered back to their last encounter. "You're the one who walked away Saturday morning."

  Pensively, he sat back in his chair, his elbows on the arms, and his hands steepled in front of him. A wry smile quirked his mouth. "And I wasn't coming back, Princess. What do you think? Are we fated to be together?"

  "Maybe ill-fated." As ill-fated as all of her relationships with men turned out.

  "I certainly hope not."

  The soft way Cody said the words, and the intensity of his gaze made her nervous. Bernadette shifted positions in her chair. "So what's next?"

  His grin turned wicked. "We could go to my place and make love for the rest of the afternoon."

  The idea of making love with Cody turned her stomach into a knot. Hadn't she had a similar thought just three days ago? How easy it had been to rationalize the idea of sleeping with him after he'd walked out on her. Now staring across her desk, seeing him, as they said, "in the flesh," she knew she wasn't ready—never would be ready—to make love with Cody Taylor. The idea was simply too dangerous. "That wasn't what I meant."

  "I know." He rose to his feet and started around her desk toward her.

  She watched him every step of the way, the knot in her stomach tightening. "What are you doing?"

  "You asked what's next." He slipped behind her. "What I think we need is to look at this from a different angle."

  His hands touched her shoulders, his fingers moving to her neck, and she twisted her head to look up at him. "I don't understand. What—?"

  "Am I doing now?" he finished for her, all the while moving his fingertips in small circles over the nape of her neck. "One of best the ways I've found to come up with new ideas is to do something totally unrelated to what I'm thinking about. So, my dear princess, I'm going to give you a massage. It may also help that headache of yours."

  "I don't need a massage." What she needed was a reality check. Just the touch of his hands had her on edge, a tingly sensation running down her spine.

  "Put your head forward."

  "This is a crazy idea. I don't have time for—"

  A slight nudge from his hand pushed her head forward, and her protest dissolved under the gentle rubbing of his fingers. In spite of herself, she groaned in pleasure, tucking her chin tighter to her chest and giving him better access to her neck and shoulders. She might not need a massage, but it certainly felt good. Closing her eyes, she chuckled. "Dang you, Cody. You are so exasperating. Don't you ever listen to what someone tells you?"

  "Not when I know it's not true. Your neck is all tied up in knots."

  He should see her stomach.

  "Relax," he ordered.

  How could she when the rough warmth of his callused fingers was creating an awareness deep within her, teasing her into wanting more. He was seducing her in subtle ways, vanquishing one tension to create another. Only ten minutes earlier, her thoughts had been focused on the myriad problems facing her. Now nothing seemed important, nothing but absorbing the warmth and strength of Cody's hands and melting into the oblivion of sensory overload.

  The leather of his jacket scrunched against the back of her chair like soft butter, releasing its heady scent. She licked her lips and tasted the wanting his nearness triggered. His voice, when he spoke, was a soft caress. "I know this isn't a fairy tale, Princess," he said. "But you do have problems, and I would like to help you."

  The idea of Cody helping her was ironic. She needed to be saved from him, rescued from the emotional turmoil he created in her. Valiantly, she struggled to regain control of her dazed thoughts. "You have helped," she said shakily. "When I came into this office a few minutes ago, I couldn't figure out what was going on. I thought I was losing my mind. Now everything makes sense. The irrational has become rational."

  Except the way she reacted to Cody wasn't rational. How easy it would be to give into his suggestion to make love. How desperately she wanted to.

  "You're still tense," he said, and she laughed. She was more than tense.

  He tilted her head back and worked his fingertips up along the line of her jaw to her temples "I don't know why I thought I could stay away from you," he said, his voice huskier than just a moment before.

  Bernadette watched his mouth move. Funny how a person looked completely different when viewed from below. She could see the stubble of Cody's beard under his chin and along his jawline. His nose was slightly flared, his eyes veiled by thick brown lashes. The total picture was somewhat ghoulish, and she knew what she was seeing was his other side, just as he would one day see her other side. Now, perhaps, he was attracted to her, but the day would come when he would leave.

  "No." She pulled away from his touch, straightening in her chair. Her heart pounding in her chest, she didn't dare look at him. "I told you from the beginning, I'm not interested in starting anything with you."

  "So you did," he said, his tone suddenly very cool. "Several times, in fact. And you're right, I don't listen, but I should."

  Not until Cody stepped away from her desk and started for the door did she realized she'd been holding her breath. For a moment, she simply watched, knowing she'd never see him agai
n, then she rose to her feet and followed. "Thanks for coming and telling me what Frank said. At least I now know what's going on."

  Cody paused before opening her door. "I think Parker also needs to know what's going on."

  She disagreed. "Not while he's on his honeymoon. My sister set it up so he'll have six weeks completely away from these stores. I'm the general manager. I'm the one who needs to resolve this, otherwise he might as well fire me."

  "Someone wants you to fail."

  "At least in this case, if I do fail, I'll know why."

  Cody frowned at her answer. "I don't want you getting hurt."

  She saw the concern in his eyes and believed him. "It won't be the first time. I've just got to stay in control."

  He stared at her, saying nothing, and then he swore, and his hands—those big, rough, callused hands—cradled her face, and she knew he was going to kiss her.

  Chapter Eight

  Bernadette had come to expect the unexpected from Cody, yet she wasn't ready for this assault on her senses. From the touch of his hands to the taste of his mouth, Cody wiped out the last bit of sanity she possessed. She held on to him like a wanton woman, responded by kissing him back. In that one act, her protests that she wasn't interested were exposed as blatant lies. He would indeed have to be dumb not to see. The truth was, she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted a man.

  And he wanted her. With her body pressed against his, she knew he was fully aroused. The idea of making love was becoming more of a need than a fantasy.

  He was the one who pulled them back to reality. "Wow," he said, a rough edge to his voice. "I, ah—"

  She watched him struggle for control, his eyes dark with passion and his breathing uneven. She was dealing with her own struggles, afraid to admit what they both knew.

  He didn't push. Stepping back, he gave them both time to regroup. Only when she started to say something did he act. With a finger to her lips and a shake of his head, he stopped her protest. "I'm leaving now. I'll call you later."

  She knew he would.

  He glanced around her office, then walked over and picked up one of the color sample books a contractor had left. "Do you need this today?"