Destiny Unknown Page 15

  Bernadette nodded, words still refusing to form in her brain. She was beginning to notice things around her. People. Activities. This was no business meeting. Or if it was, it hadn't started and the participants weren't concerned with looking professional. She saw jeans and sweatpants, t-shirts and sweatshirts. There wasn't a suit or a tie in the mix, and at the far end of his great room, six of those present were playing basketball.

  She knew then that she was over dressed.

  "You might want to take off those heels," Cody said. "I thought I said something about this being casual."

  He might have. She couldn't remember. Even if he had, for her, casual attire for a business gathering was exactly what she had on, with maybe one exception. "I should have worn flats."

  Cody laughed. "Do you own a pair of jeans, Bern?"

  "Jeans?" She knew what he was getting at. "No."

  "Sweatpants?"

  "Yes, I have sweatpants." Two pair, actually, for when she worked out. "I also have shorts." She glanced at his. "What do you do, wear your jeans until the knees give out, then hack them off with a pair of scissors and call them shorts?"

  "Works for me."

  "Thank goodness everyone doesn't think like you. You'd run department stores like Morgan's out of business."

  "Well, today we're going to try to keep Morgan's in business. At least we're going to try to keep Morgan's general manager in business." He turned toward the men and women in his great room. "Time," he yelled and made a T with his hands. "New problem to work on."

  A dozen pairs of eyes turned toward them, and Bernadette suddenly felt like a fish in a bowl.

  Cody introduced each of his team. Katrina and Tom waved when he gave their formal titles. Bill Coplon stood and shook Bernadette's hand. In spite of working with Cody for more than six years, Bill hadn't lost all of his CPA persona. His jeans were practically brand new, donned only for these gatherings. Cody knew Bern would feel a kinship with Bill.

  Henry and Gary, however, were her antitheses. Sometimes the two contractors even grossed him out with their disregard of personal hygiene. Nevertheless, they were the best around and the work they produced was first class. Today they both seemed to have taken their monthly bath.

  The couple who'd been doing his promotional work for the last four years came next. They were always interesting to be around: Tony with his colorful shorts and shirt, long hair and nose ring, and Jenny, his wife and partner, who generally met the public. Not that Jenny was exactly conservative. Today she was wearing black leggings and a shirt she'd made out of aluminum can tops. She called it a conversation starter.

  By the time Jerry, who loved to cook as well as create stunning landscapes, came out of the kitchen, Cody had introduced all fourteen of the principal members of his team to Bernadette. Watching her reaction to each was interesting. She held her carefully schooled features in a polite smile, but her eyes weren't as emotionless, often relating surprise when he listed the credits and the acclaim each member had earned over the years. If he achieved nothing more, he hoped she walked away from their relationship with some of her preconceived ideas shattered.

  Then again, he hoped she didn't walk away from their relationship, that they would actually have a relationship, not just the memory of one night in bed.

  "Bernadette will summarize the problems she's been having the last couple of weeks," he told the group seated on the floor and in the chairs near the fireplace. "We hope Katrina can give her some answers, but any ideas you have will be welcome."

  Stepping aside, he let Bernadette talk. At first, each word came out controlled and precise. It didn't take long for his crew to start asking questions, probing deeper. Bill surprised them all by coming to Ben's defense, then he explained that he knew Ben. "Not that he'll hear anything about this conversation." He looked Cody's way. "I assume the same rules apply here."

  "Same rules," Cody said and explained those rules to Bern. "Everything discussed during these sessions is confidential. No idea is stupid. Everyone has an equal say."

  "Which is why I feel I need to speak in Ben's defense," Bill said. "He's not exactly happy about what's going on at Morgan's. I know that for a fact. But he wouldn't intentionally try to make you fail."

  "You know that for a fact, too?" Jerry asked, passing around another of his special treats.

  Kat held out her hand. "May I see that letter with the signature that you brought?"

  "Actually, I brought a letter and some ad copy. Both signed by me. Or so it seems. I know I didn't sign either."

  Bernadette handed Katrina the manila envelope and answered a few more questions before Katrina again spoke up. "Could you please write a few words, then your signature."

  "What do you want me to write?" Bernadette hesitated, looking at the pen and paper Cody quickly produced.

  "Two sentences. Anything you'd like as long as you use the word 'I' in one. Then your signature as you would normally sign a business letter."

  Bernadette complied, and Katrina took the new sample, studying it for a moment before comparing it to the ones in the envelope. When she looked up, she shrugged. "They're the same."

  "You're saying I signed those?" Bernadette's shoulders visibly sagged.

  "No, I'm saying they're the same," Katrina said and glanced at Tom, who had been looking over Katrina's shoulder. "You tell her."

  "What she means," Tom said, holding up the two documents. "Is they're copies. Computer copies."

  "Computer copies?" Bernadette repeated.

  Tom handed the letter and ad copy back to Bernadette. "They've been printed on a color printer so you get the signature in blue and the rest of the letter in black. I'd say your signature was scanned into a computer program and saved, and is being used whenever needed, shrunk or expanded to fit the document. The equipment is top notch, the resolution high. It's a computer with a lot of memory and a quality printer."

  "Ben has a scanner and a color printer," she said. "It's only seven months old. Parker bought it for him when the new position was created."

  "And can anyone else use this computer and scanner?" Bill asked still coming to Ben's defense.

  "Yes. That was part of the justification for the expense. Loren, who's our art director, uses it a lot. He's in Ben's office almost as much as Ben. And anyone with a reason can use it. But Ben would know."

  "He doesn't have any days off?" Tony asked, grinning. "Never leaves his office, even to sleep."

  "What did you find out about her?" Gary asked Katrina, grabbing one of the treats Jerry was passing around.

  Katrina looked at Cody and so did Bernadette. He explained. "Kat's given each of us an analysis through our handwriting."

  "Would you like to know what I said about him?" Katrina asked, grinning.

  Bernadette didn't want to seem interested, but she very much wanted to know Cody's analysis. She shrugged, and Katrina grinned. "His writing clearly shows a man who's confident in his convictions and feels free to express his opinions. He's extroverted, demonstrative, and expressive. Impulsive to a degree."

  "To a degree?" Bernadette had run into his impulsiveness, along with the demonstrative and expressive.

  "Both of you," Katrina went on, "were strongly influenced by your fathers." She corrected herself, looking at Cody. "Or a father figure. You're also both strong willed."

  "Tell me about it," Cody said, his gaze on Bernadette.

  "Tell you?" Bern countered, then glanced back at Katrina. "He did tell you, didn't he?" Her laugh was stilted. "You two are in this together, aren't you? You're pulling my leg."

  Katrina was perfectly serious. "All he's told me about you is your signature is showing up where it shouldn't, and you wanted a confirmation that it was your signature. Trust me, he didn't have to tell me anything. You did in what you wrote here." She held up the paper Bernadette had written the two sentences on. "This isn't just a parlor trick. For years managers have been using graphology as a tool in hiring personnel. In France, at least eighty percent o
f the biggest companies use graphology in hiring. It's all there—"

  Again, she pointed at the piece Bernadette had written. "How high the letters are, how low, their width, slant and spacing. Even how much of the paper you use tells me something. With you, besides the influence of your father, or perhaps because of it, you show a need for control to be comfortable."

  Tom laughed. "And she got connected with Cody? Good luck."

  They didn't understand. Bernadette felt she had to explain. "Cody and I aren't connected, we're . . . that is—"

  "She's my tenant consultant," Cody said and picked up the basketball that had been placed in the middle of the floor while they were discussing Bernadette's problems. He tossed it to Bill. "What would you want if you lived in this new development?"

  "Convenience," Bill said and tossed the ball to Tony.

  "Beauty," Tony added and the ball went to Bernadette.

  She caught it. Barely. It was that or be smacked in the chest. Once she had the ball, she stared at it, understanding she was to come up with a suggestion, but not sure what to say. Cody prompted. "Say the first thing that comes into your mind."

  "A front door." She threw the ball to him, glad to be rid of it.

  Everyone laughed, agreeing a front door would be good, and Cody added an idea, the ball moving on.

  Somewhere around five o'clock, Bernadette realized she should have left, that they'd spent the last three hours working on Cody's project, not her problem. She should have left, but she was enjoying herself too much to leave. From tossing the ball, they'd gone to playing jacks—she hadn't done that since she was in grammar school. Next came a game of marbles. Her team won, then lost when they switched to badminton.

  Each game was more than a game, the term "playing with ideas" taking on new meaning. Cody had created a think tank, and ideas were flowing. At six o'clock, Jerry brought out more food—not that there'd been a lack of food or drink all afternoon—and a break was declared. Four of the men started playing basketball again, and Bernadette realized Cody's divisions in this room were purely functional.

  Stretched out on the floor, she rubbed her feet together, her high heels having long ago disappeared. In the back of her mind, she hoped the shoes weren't being chewed to pieces by Thor, who'd been bouncing around with them most of the afternoon but had retired to a corner to chew on something. Her nylons were now shredded, and her hair had come out of its twist and hung by the side of her face, so she had to keep pushing it back as she sipped at the wine that Bill had brought to the gathering.

  He sat beside her, offering her the last from the bottle. For a moment, he said nothing, tasting his wine, his gaze—like hers—on Cody. Then he spoke. "What about Loren?"

  Bernadette frowned, confused. "Loren?"

  "You've been suggesting that Ben is doing this to make you look bad in Parker's eyes. What about Loren? He has access to the equipment, doesn't he?"

  "Yes, but I didn't take his job. What would his motive be?"

  "Friendship. He might be trying to get you out so Parker will put Ben back in as general manager."

  "Friendship?" Bernadette laughed. "Those two fight like cats and dogs."

  Bill's gaze drifted back to Cody. "Sometimes people fight to cover up feelings."

  Considering she'd been arguing with Cody off and on all afternoon, she suspected Bill was no longer talking about Ben and Loren. "We are total opposites."

  "If I recall, Katrina said you two had a lot in common." Bill grinned.

  * * *

  People began to leave around nine o'clock. They'd made a start, had defined the scope of the project and the atmosphere they wanted. Much of it was what Cody had already envisioned, but the afternoon had produced more. Fresher ideas. New slants. It always amazed him. More than that, the afternoon had begun to build a team. Over the next three or more years they would be working together. Now it would be in harmony, knowing they could disagree and it would be all right. As they left, they left with pieces of the project. When they again met, the ideas would be more fully formed—architectural plans, landscaping and promotional packages in their beginning stages. It would go faster if he did it alone, took control, but the results would be limited by his vision.

  Sometimes you had to give up control.

  He touched the gold chain around his neck and watched Bernadette play tug-of-war with Thor, the dog pulling on an old sock that had been lying around. She'd stayed. He'd even say she'd had fun. What she did next, however, was out of his control.

  He knew what he wanted.

  Katrina and Tom were by the fireplace. Someone had built a fire. Someone else had given the command for the lights to dim and music to play. It happened that way when they met to play with ideas.

  Katrina glanced toward Bernadette, then back at him. Without a word, she pushed herself up from the rug in front of the hearth and walked his way. Voice lowered, she spoke close to his ear. "Want to change your mind about that offer of a bed? We can find a motel room."

  Cody shook his head. "I doubt she stays."

  "You've got a stubborn one there."

  "Tell me."

  "She can change. Changing how you write can change how you think, how you see yourself. I told her that."

  "And did she believe you?"

  Katrina laughed. "Not yet." Stretching, she looked over at Tom. "You ready for bed? We've got to head back early tomorrow morning."

  Tom took his cue. Bernadette also stopped playing with Thor. Awkwardly, she stood. "I should be leaving. I never expected to stay this long. Poor Mopsy."

  "Has used the papers you put down, I hope." Cody veered her off from her search for her shoes. "Have a minute more? I'd like to get your personal opinion on the project."

  She laughed, craning her head slightly to watch Katrina and Tom start up his stairs. "You've been getting my personal opinion all afternoon. Did you clean all those boxes out of your spare bedroom?"

  "No, they're using my room."

  Her eyebrows arched suspiciously. "And you're?"

  "Probably sleeping there." He nodded toward the rug in front of the fireplace.

  "On the floor?"

  "Unless you're inviting me to your place."

  "No . . . but— I've got to go." She started looking for her shoes again.

  He grabbed her hand, drawing her with him to the fireplace. "Sit and talk with me for a moment."

  "I can't stay," she said, but didn't resist when he sunk down to the rug in front of the hearth, bringing her with him.

  "So what did you think? Will this be a place you'd want to live?"

  "The project?" She considered the idea. "If you put it together the way you were talking today, yes."

  She wasn't pulling away, but she kept a distance between them, her back straight.

  "And what about your problems? Did we solve them?"

  "It's good to know how my signatures are getting on all of these cancellations and authorizations. And maybe Bill was right, maybe I should consider Loren as a possibility. I hope he won't tell Ben what I said today."

  "Bill's a bit stuffy, but I trust him completely. If he said he won't say anything, he won't." Cody edged closer, and Bernadette glanced up the stairs. He understood. "They won't be coming back down tonight."

  I really should be going." Her look left him hoping. She didn't move.

  "I liked the way you blended in" He blended a touch with a light kiss on her cheek.

  "They . . . I—" She stopped, her breathing shallow and her lips slightly parted, inviting.

  "They liked you." Even Thor did. The dog lay near her feet, watching Bernadette with adoring eyes.

  "I liked them." Her gaze played over his face.

  "And me?" Cody brushed another kiss across her cheek.

  "This isn't fair." She touched his shoulder, but didn't push him away. Just the opposite. Her fingers curled into his sweatshirt.

  He grazed her lips with his next kiss, then spoke into the empty room. "Lights out."

  Th
e lights went out, only the glow of the embers in the fireplace picking up the shadows of his features. Bernadette knew what she was doing. Though she'd had several glasses of wine, she was perfectly sober. Maybe she'd known all along this was how the afternoon would end. The protests had been to soothe her conscious. Her defeat was to soothe the ache Cody created every time he looked at her.

  Maybe a second time would end the longing and expose him as just another man. She was prepared this time, would expect the rush. The first time was always special, she rationalized, though she couldn't remember a first time ever quite that special.

  He continued teasing her mouth with kisses, touching the side of her face with his fingertips and murmuring words she couldn't quite understand. The fire in the fireplace was going out. The one Cody was building in her was roaring, melting her resistance until she was touching him, curling her fingers into his hair to feel its coarse thickness and wavy body. He nibbled her neck and she nibbled his earlobe, playing with his earrings. One by one, he released the buttons of her blouse, spreading it apart and caressing her ribs before stroking her breasts.

  The rhythm of their breathing became more rapid, echoing the frenzy of their actions. Her blouse and bra were cast aside, his sweatshirt stripped over his head. He buried his face against her chest, sucking and squeezing, and she rubbed her palms over his chest, feeling the spring of the hairs that tapered to his shorts and the beat of his heart.

  He was the one who pulled off her slacks. She was sure of that. Which of them took off his cutoffs was a question. Not that she cared. All she wanted was to feel his body against hers, touching, heating. Filling.

  Underwear went next, her shredded nylons a waste anyway. Naked, they explored the unknown, tasting and melding until boundaries were forgotten, only the pursuit of pleasure motivating their actions. Not until Cody was on top of her, hard against her belly, did his groan penetrate her frenzy.

  "I don't have anything," he said, a tension radiating from him to her. "Every thing's up in my bedroom."

  Bernadette understood. She also knew about control and planning ahead. She knew how brief happiness could be, how men came and went, and if you didn't grab on, you might never know any happiness. "I don't care, she said, and moved her hips so he had no choice.