"I'll be there."
Long after Shane was gone, Rachel sat at her computer. Her fingers flew over the keys, as her eyes blurred with tears she refused to shed.
One last Tess Tells All column.
One more time, she'd write down her feelings for her boss. One more time, she'd pour out her heart and mask it with humor. And one more time, she'd watch Shane read it, chuckle at Tess's cleverness and never see himself in the words.
Chapter 9
A few days later, Rachel was wishing she'd just quit her job outright.
Working with Shane and maintaining a stoic, distant attitude was harder than it sounded. He was polite, courteous and completely unreachable. She should have been glad that he was apparently as determined as she to not let their own desires erupt again.
Instead she was only irritated.
Wasn't this hard on him at all?
Shaking her head, she scrolled down the list of RSVP responses to the annual Elliott Christmas Charity Ball. Making notations on who had and hadn't responded yet, Rachel lost herself in the work. It was the one thing she could depend on now. And if this year's ball was going to be the last one she arranged, then by heaven, it was going to be the very best one anyone had ever seen.
Every year, EPH sponsored a charity extravaganza, raising money for women's shelters and children's hospitals in the city. And for the last four years, Rachel had been integral to the planning and execution of the ball. She kept track of invitations, caterers, musicians, decorations. She arranged for Santa to appear at the party for the children who would be attending and she made sure that Santa had exactly the right present for every child.
This was one job she was really going to miss when she left the company.
"Hey," Christina said. "Earth to Rachel."
She blinked and looked up at her friend. Christina's silver-framed glasses were riding low on her nose and her bright blue eyes were fixed on Rachel.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Honey," Christina said, lowering her voice and bending down to lean both hands on Rachel's desk, "you have something you want to tell me?"
"What do you mean?"
The older woman took a quick look around, assuring herself that no one was close enough to overhear. Still, she lowered her voice another notch. "A new Tess Tells All column just left Production for the boss's office."
"Really?" Rachel tried to look surprised. "I thought that last column was it for her."
"Apparently she had one more in her," Christina said, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, "and it was a beauty."
Rachel lowered her gaze, picked up a stack of files and busily straightened them as if clean edges meant her life. "Why're you telling me?"
"Nice try," her friend countered. "But you forget. I've got years of experience dealing with kids trying to hide things from me."
"Christina … "
"You're Tess."
"Shh!" Rachel looked around now and when she was sure they were alone, she stood up, motioned to Christina and headed for the break room. Her friend was just a step or two behind her and when they entered the empty room, Christina shut the door and leaned back against it.
"It's true."
Rachel grumbled a little as she automatically straightened the counter before grabbing a coffee cup and pouring herself some. "Yes. It's true. Happy?"
"Delirious. I've had my suspicions for a while now, but this column just confirmed it." Locking the door, she walked toward her friend, got herself some coffee and while she dumped several heaping teaspoons of sugar into the brew, she said, "I can't believe you didn't tell me."
"I couldn't tell anyone."
"I'm not just anyone."
"True," Rachel said, taking a sip of coffee. "And I wanted to tell you about me being Tess but-"
"Oh," Christina said waving one hand at her, "who cares about the Tess thing? I want to know why you didn't tell me you slept with Shane."
"Oh God." Dragging a chair out, Rachel fell into it and set her cup on the table.
"Talk, sweetie. I want details."
"No details. Please. I'm trying to forget them myself."
"Damn. That bad?"
Rachel laughed at the disappointment on her friend's face. "Hardly. That good."
"Ooh. So why the long face?"
"Because everything's changed now."
"That's good," Christina said, then frowned. "Isn't it?"
"I quit my job."
"No, you did not."
"I had to," Rachel said, cradling her coffee cup between her palms, savoring the heat radiating through her. "I can't work with him now. It's just too hard."
"That's bull and you know it." Christina sighed and leaned back in her chair.
"Quitting solves nothing."
"It gets me away from him."
"Honey, you'll never be able to get away from him. You'll keep on loving him even if you wander off to Timbuktu."
"Well, there's a happy thought," Rachel muttered. "Anyway, my resignation is in and so are a few applications I've managed to drop off on my lunch hour the last couple of days. There are lots of magazines here in the city," she continued, wanting to steer their talk away from Shane. "So it's not like I'll never see you again or anything."
"Damn straight on that," Christina said, giving her a tight smile. "But here's a question for you. What do you think Shane's going to say when he sees this column?"
Rachel laughed miserably, picked up her coffee and took a sip. "He's read dozens of ‘em so far and hasn't recognized himself. Why should this time be any different?"
Christina picked up her own coffee cup and smiled at Rachel over the rim. "Oh, didn't I mention that part? You screwed up in this one. You actually referred to Tess's mystery boss as Shane."
Rachel's cup fell from suddenly nerveless fingers and hit the tabletop with enough force to send waves of hot coffee washing over both women.
Shane had been fielding phone calls all morning. From agents of minor celebrities hoping to make a splash in The Buzz, to heads of major corporations wanting to talk product placement. Normally he would have fobbed off most of those calls to the proper departments.
But for the last few days, he'd been doing everything he could to keep busy.
Even if it meant getting back into the trenches. The plan was to keep himself so preoccupied he wouldn't have time to think about Rachel.
It wasn't working.
She was always there, right at the edges of his mind, waiting for a quiet moment to pop in and torture him. Damn it, he'd managed to work with Rachel-closely-for four long years. In all that time, he'd never looked at her as he would any other wildly attractive woman.
She'd just been there. Like an extension of himself. Part of his office, his work world. And in the last year, since his father had kicked off this ridiculous competition, she'd been the one to give him a kick in the can when he needed it. Hell, she was just as responsible as he for The Buzz winning the competition. Maybe more so. Because Rachel was always on top of things. She'd kept his life running smoothly for four years and he'd never even noticed her beyond being grateful for the help.
How the hell could he have been so blind?
How could he not have noticed her eyes, her mouth, her sense of humor, her legs, her agile mind, her breasts, her loyalty, her behind?
And why was he noticing all of that now?
Muttering darkly, he stalked across his office when the phone started ringing again. But this time, instead of answering, he let it ring and walked to the bank of windows behind his desk.
When the phone stopped ringing, he smiled grimly only to turn and frown at the quick knock on the door. Before he could call out for whoever it was to leave, the door swung open and Rachel was there.
Her blond hair was pulled back and twisted into some sort of elegant braid she usually did. But now he'd seen it hanging loose and waving around her face and that was how he pictured her. In his mind's eye her plain, pale green business suit was replaced by a skimpy T-shirt and a pair of green sweats.
Oh man, he was in deep trouble here.
"You okay?" she asked, frowning at him.
"Fine." Or at least, he would be if he could shut off his brain. "What is it?"
Before she could answer, another woman sailed past Rachel into his office and demanded, "What makes you so crabby, I'd like to know?"
"Mom," he said and felt a smile warm his face.
Maeve Elliott was a tiny woman physically, but her personality made her seem larger than life. She'd married Shane's father when she was a nineteen-year-old seamstress in Ireland. And, though Shane could take exception to the way Patrick had ignored his children from time to time, the old man had always treated his wife as if she were the most priceless treasure on the planet. Which, Shane admitted silently, she was.