Destiny Unknown Page 14

  Wiggling uncomfortably in her chair, she knew she couldn't sit in her office thinking about Cody Taylor. She'd left him last night so he wouldn't leave her. Now she had to get him out of her thoughts. She needed to be doing something.

  "I'll be at the Twenty-eighth Street store," she told Anne and headed out of the downtown store.

  * * *

  "They'll do." Mary Elizabeth Delgato nodded her approval to Bernadette. "That was quick thinking on your part."

  "Something had to be done." Bernadette watched the co-ed from the Grand Rapids Junior College make a turn in front of the customers watching her. Her call to the drama department had provided the models they needed, even if the girls' figures weren't standard and a few were women instead of teenagers. You didn't complain when you only had a few hours to come up with a miracle.

  One miracle, however, didn't erase the doubts she was sure Mary had. Bernadette wanted the woman to understand what had happened. "I didn't cancel the other models, no matter what the agency said. Something's going on, something I haven't been able to put my finger on, but I'll figure it out soon enough."

  Mary nodded and smiled. "I understand you found someone in Ben's office last night."

  The gossip had traveled to this store as well. In a way, that was good. Better to squelch the rumors now. "I saw a light on in Ben's office, and someone went running out of the area when I got near. I didn't actually 'find' anyone."

  "I heard he has long hair and wears earrings." Mary looked toward the front of the misses department. "That wouldn't happen to be him, would it?"

  Bernadette glanced the direction Mary was pointing. She hoped Mary was wrong, but she wasn't really surprised to see Cody lounging against a sweater display area. He looked the same as usual, the leather jacket and threadbare jeans his standards. Same with the hair and the earrings. The gold chain wasn't visible, but she knew it was around his neck, symbolically reminding him to believe in himself.

  The only thing different, she noticed, were his eyes. They were bloodshot. So were hers. A lack of sleep did that to her.

  The warmth that dashed through her at the sight of him wasn't welcome. She wanted to ignore him, but knew he wouldn't remain quietly in the background. It wasn't his way. Her only choice was to go to him. Bernadette nodded to Mary, and started for Cody.

  "What brings you here?" she asked before she reached the display of sweaters Cody was resting against.

  "You." His gaze followed the flow of her hair. "You left it down."

  She didn't like the intimacy of his gaze or the mention of her hair style. "You left it down" could be interpreted a lot of ways, and with the rumors circulating as they were, she was sure she wouldn't like any interpretation. Bernadette lowered her voice. "I thought we settled matters last night."

  "I'd say matters are very unsettled." He glanced Mary's direction. "Would you like to discuss this over a cup of coffee?"

  At least he was acknowledging that this wasn't the proper place to be having a discussion of this nature, and getting him out of the store and away from the staffs' watchful eyes would be better than arguing with him on the sales floor. The fashion show seemed to be proceeding without a hitch now that they had models to wear the outfits. Mary could handle matters on her own. Bernadette gave in to Cody. "If that's what you want."

  "You know what I want."

  The huskiness of his voice said volumes, and Bernadette hurried toward the closest outside doors. She did know what he wanted. What was driving her crazy was she also wanted it. One night hadn't been enough. Considering how she'd reacted in his arms, she wondered if she could ever get enough.

  Like anything sinful, he was addictive. And he wouldn't go away. "Why did you come here?" She demanded the moment they were out of the store.

  "Anne said you were here working on a problem. Something about no models."

  "Another of those cancellations with my signature that I'm sure I never initiated."

  "And that's why I'm here."

  She cocked her head, not quite sure she was following him.

  "I was thinking about those signatures of yours that keep popping up," he said. "Could you get one of the originals?"

  "I suppose." If the Grand Rapids Press wouldn't give her the original verification on last week's ad, she was sure the modeling agency would supply that so-called letter of cancellation, and there was also the signature card at the bank. Then again, considering the suspicious way Frank had acted yesterday, he might not be willing to hand over the one piece of evidence that would positively link her to that account. "The modeling agency has one. I probably could get it," she said. "Why?"

  "Saturday Katrina, the electrician I like to work with, is going to be at my place. She's into handwriting analysis and should be able to tell you if the signature is yours or a forgery. If you could come by—"

  "You want me to go to your place?"

  Her panicked expression said volumes, but Cody hadn't expected otherwise. She wanted to forget he existed, and if he had any sense, he would stay out of her life. But then, he hadn't earned the name Dumb John by showing good sense. Besides, the memory of last night was too fresh in his mind. He'd made love before, but never like that. Bernadette was different. From the first day they'd met, she'd had him dancing on a string like an idiot. Now she had that string wrapped around his heart.

  He would never forget finding her at the bottom of his stairs, crying. Falling asleep after something as wonderful as they'd shared was unforgivable. Guilt alone would have brought him to her today, but seeing her on his stairs, looking so vulnerable, and hearing her fears had sealed his fate. The ice princess had a reason to protect her emotions. People who got hurt enough times learned to protect themselves. He understood her fears, and he understood why she wouldn't believe things would be different with him. She had no reason to believe him, and it was far better to push someone away than to be hurt again.

  His sister had pushed everyone away.

  He couldn't help Karen, but he could help Bernadette. He needed to, for his sake as well as hers. She could push, but he wouldn't leave, not until he knew for sure that she didn't want him.

  And the message he'd gotten on his bed last night hadn't been one of rejection. She'd taken him in with a passion that could have rocked a house off its foundation. He'd filled her, and she'd surrendered all control. Maybe she thought walking away had ended everything, but as far as he was concerned, they were just beginning. Beginning on a wonderful journey, destination unknown.

  Bringing her along required care on his part. Good planning. He kept his tone level. "Let me explain about Saturday. Last year, I bought eighty acres and an old farm house. The Grand River runs through a portion of the property. What I want to do is develop a residential area on that land that combines private homes with condominiums a park and a community center. I have some ideas about how it should look, but I've found the best guarantee of success is to bring in those people who have to work together. The construction bosses. The plumbers and electricians. Lawyers and accountants. Even my PR people. The ideas and insights they have always amaze me. Often, they think of things I missed. They're all going to be at my place at one Saturday. It's a perfect time for you to talk to Katrina and have her look at those signatures. You could even present the problems you've been having to the group. They might catch something you and I have missed."

  Bernadette shook her head. "Why can't I just see this Katrina at her office, and you tell the group about my problems?"

  "Katrina won't be in her office for at least a month. She's working on a project up around Marquette. She and one of her assistants are coming down Saturday just for this meeting. They'll spend the night at my place, then head right back up to Marquette on Sunday."

  "And I suppose there's no one else around Grand Rapids who can do handwriting analysis?"

  He shrugged. "Probably, but no one else that I know. What, are you afraid of, Bern? That I'll attack you if you come to my house?"

  "No, bu
t—"

  "There will be at least a dozen people there. Could be as many as two dozen."

  They'd reached the nearby coffee shop, and she waited until they'd each gotten a cup of coffee from the counter and had found a table in the corner before she responded. Voice low, she leaned toward him. "Cody, I told you last night, it would really be better if we didn't see each other again."

  "You told me a lot of things last night." He grinned. "You told me you liked it when I nuzzled your neck. That you liked me touching you between your legs. That—"

  She didn't let him go on. "You know what I mean."

  "Yes, I know what you mean." He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "I also know that I can't give you reasons why your father takes off for Egypt or Parker left you, and I don't know why your mother died, but it's not because you."

  Bernadette pulled her gaze and her hand away at the same time. "How can you say that? You don't know anything about me."

  He laughed. "You're saying that after last night?"

  Again, she looked at him, the ice back in her eyes. "You don't have to know someone to have sex. Ask a prostitute."

  "Is that what it was, Bern? Did you prostitute yourself last night?"

  "No, but . . . I— We—" She stared down at her coffee and didn't go on.

  He was glad. At least she couldn't lie about what they'd shared. "Look, maybe you're sorry about last night, but I'm not. And you're right, we don't know each other, not well. We've taken the first steps, crossed a few barriers. I'm asking you not to put up any walls."

  She kept staring at her cup. "Walls give you boundaries."

  "And I don't believe in boundaries. I have made my reputation as a developer by breaking boundaries. I am the daydreamer I was as a child. I believe in fairy tales and happy endings and finding new ways of looking at situations. I believe in taking chances, even if you might stumble and fall sometimes."

  Her head had come up as he talked, her gaze finally meeting with his. A silence stretched between them when he finished. He waited, every second increasing the tension. She licked her lips, and drew in a breath. He said nothing.

  Outside of the coffee shop, cars pulled in and out of the parking area, customers dashing in for a cup of java to go. Traffic on Twenty-eighth Street was heavy, as usual. Life went on for everyone but Cody. His was held in balance by the woman seated across from him.

  Finally, she spoke. "You're saying if I go to your place Saturday, nothing will happen?"

  He kept his answer to the point. "I'm saying, if you come, you'll meet Katrina and hear what she has to say about that signature. You'll tell the group what's going on and see if they have any ideas. You can stay as long a time or as short a time as you'd like. With luck, you'll leave with some answers. If not, I'll have food and drink there, so you won't go away hungry."

  "And you'll be . . . ?"

  "Working with the people who will be my employees and teammates for the next two or three years. Brainstorming and planning."

  "And that's all?" She cocked her head suspiciously.

  "What do you mean, 'Is that all?' I find these sessions extremely important."

  "I mean, is that all you and I will be doing? Brainstorming?"

  "What do you think?"

  Chapter Eleven

  At one-thirty on Saturday afternoon, Bernadette steered her white Acura through the grove of trees that hid Cody's "shack" from the main road. Driving from her house to his, she'd thought of a dozen reasons why she shouldn't be doing this. Seeing cars and trucks parked in front of his house, several with business logos on the side, she relaxed a little. It appeared Cody had been honest about this being a business meeting. She'd wondered. He wouldn't be the first man to tell her one thing to get her to his place, only to come up with a quick excuse why they were suddenly alone.

  In the coffee shop Wednesday, she'd spent nearly an hour with Cody, and had emphasized one point. If she came, it would be strictly because she needed help solving the problems at Morgan's. He was to forget any ideas he might have of her staying and them making love.

  Over and over, she'd given him good reasons why they should not see each other again. He'd nodded and smiled, and had assured her that she was in control of the situation, that he was only offering a way for her to gain information regarding these mysterious signatures popping up all over the place. The control part, she doubted, but she had ultimately agreed to come. All morning she'd questioned that decision.

  It would have been easy to call and say she wasn't feeling well. And it wouldn't have been a lie. The closer the hour hand on her kitchen clock slipped toward one o'clock, the more queasy her insides turned. Even now, her heart was racing too fast, and butterflies were playing tag in her stomach. She wasn't sure her legs would hold her up to take her to the door.

  You're doing this for the store, she told herself. For Parker, for your job, and for your sanity. Taking in a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and the manila envelope on the seat beside her and stepped out of the car.

  The sky was a patchwork of blue and gray, the air the warmest it had been in weeks, and Bernadette saw a robin fly off from the bare branch of an apple tree in Cody's front yard. Spring was coming, and she'd dressed accordingly, her pantsuit a lightweight beige wool and her blouse a teal silk. With this outfit, she normally wore a series of gold chains around her neck and gold loop earrings. She'd even put them on, but one glance in the mirror had told her to take them off. She would never look at a gold chain again without thinking of the fairy tale Cody's sister had told him. She would never look at gold loop earrings without thinking of Cody. She chose simple gold studs for her ears and a rope of polished semi-precious stones.

  As she started up the stone steps, she wished she'd also chosen heels less than three inches in height. Shaky legs and uneven stones threatened disaster. Holding her purse and the envelope in one hand, she kept her other hand free for balance and took each step slowly.

  She'd just reached his carved doors when the roar of a motorcycle engine caught her attention. Turning, she watched the massive machine come up the drive. Shiny chrome pipes caught the glint of the sun, the motorcycle's black body carrying a driver and a passenger, both also clad in black, from boots and jeans, to leather jackets and helmets that covered their entire faces. Big and burly, the passenger dwarfed the driver, who parked the roaring motorcycle by the door. The moment they pulled off their helmets, Bernadette understood the size difference. The driver was a woman, the passenger a man. "I see you're late too," the woman called up to her. "Wait for us."

  Bernadette waited. Fascinated, she watched the woman run long, slender fingers through short, straight black hair. A quick look in the motorcycle's side mirror brought out a tube of lipstick, and in a moment she'd applied a gloss of red.

  Her companion was working on his own hair, redoing a pony tail that hung past his shoulders. Once the two were satisfied with their appearances, they headed for the door, taking the stone steps two at a time. "I get to ring the bell," the man said, reaching in front of Bernadette.

  "Men. What do you do with them?" the woman said, laughter dancing in her dark eyes. "They're all kids at heart."

  From a square speaker box just above the doorbell, a sexy—albeit computerized sounding—female voice asked, "Yes? Who shall I say is calling?"

  "Your lover, baby," the man said.

  "Just tell Cody we're here," his companion said, and turned to Bernadette.

  "Yes? Who shall I say is calling?" the sexy computerized female voice repeated.

  "Hi. I'm Kat." The woman in black held out her hand. "And this sex pervert is Tom. You're?"

  "Bernadette."

  Kat's hand shake was firm, her laugh quick. "Okay, that explains the fancy clothes. You're the store owner. The one Cody said might be here. Did you bring the signatures?"

  "You're Katrina?"

  The woman didn't look like an electrician or a handwriting analyst. Not that Bernadette knew what a handwriting an
alyst looked like. She did know the electricians she'd met had never been pretty and petite.

  Any answer Bernadette might have given about the signatures died in her throat when the carved doors swung open, and Cody stepped into view. He looked like a bum.

  He looked wonderful.

  Boyish and manly. Cute and sexy. Before her was a living, breathing contradiction.

  His cutoffs were a pair of jeans hacked off above the knees, his sweatshirt showed a faded picture of one of Cedar Point's roller coasters, and his sneakers had holes in the sides. He looked nothing like a successful developer about to conduct a business meeting. The man was an iconoclast.

  He saw himself as her Prince Charming. She saw him as trouble. Four nights ago, she'd lost control of reason and had made love with him. Staring at him now, Bernadette knew any hopes she'd had of staying in control today were lost. She shouldn't have come.

  He smiled, his eyes the warm chocolate of dreams. His focus was on her and only on her. "You came."

  "Of course we came," Tom said. "You should know by now that we're never on time."

  Kat poked Tom in the ribs. "He doesn't mean us, you idiot."

  "Oh?" Tom glanced between Cody and Bernadette, his eyes widening innocently, then he laughed. " 'Cuse us, old man, we'll find our way in. You just go ahead and gawk."

  He headed into the house, and Katrina followed, but first she spoke to Bernadette. "I'll look at those signatures later."

  Bernadette said nothing. In her mind, she could hear the voice of common sense telling her to run, to get in her car, and take off. She couldn't have run if she'd had to. Her legs had turned to rubber, and air had ceased filling her lungs.

  Cody reached out and took her hand, and she found herself inside, the door closing behind her. Only when she felt something wet touch her other hand did she look away from Cody. Sniffing her fingers, Thor wagged his tail.

  "Must be he smells your dog," Cody said and shoed Thor off. "You have one of those mysterious papers with your signature in there?" He motioned toward the manila envelope she held.