And he couldn't imagine trying to run all of EPH without Rachel's advice and common sense and humor. Damn it, she couldn't just walk out.
But she did.
She left him standing there staring at her back as she walked away.
The next couple of days, Rachel buried herself in the preparations for the big charity event that EPH sponsored every year. The rich, the famous and the infamous would gather in the ballroom atop the Waldorf-Astoria and donate enough money to keep several children's shelters running for a year.
She already had the flowers arranged for and the caterers and band. Then she spent half the morning on the phone with security experts, lining up the extra guards they'd need on the doors. Running her finger down her list, she made several check marks and only frowned once.
Santa.
She still needed a Santa.
The one she'd used the year before was already booked and she couldn't hire just anyone to hand out gifts to children. Flipping through the phone book, she looked up several numbers for casting agents in the city. Somehow or other, she'd find the perfect Santa.
Her last job for EPH was going to come off perfectly even if she had to work herself to death to make sure of it.
When her phone rang, she reached for it automatically. "Shane Elliott's office."
"Ms. Adler?"
"Yes." Frowning, she sat back in her chair.
"This is Dylan Hightower at Cherish magazine."
"Oh." She straightened. Cherish was a celebrity homestyle magazine she'd applied to just last week. Good news. When she left EPH, she wanted to be able to go right into a new job.
"I wanted to call you and explain why we're unable to offer you a position."
She blinked, stunned. She was perfect for the job of executive assistant to the editor-in-chief. Her computer skills were excellent, matched by her organizational abilities and her work ethic. "I see."
"No, I don't believe you do," Hightower said abruptly. "And frankly, I'm only calling to warn you that publishing is a very small business. Liars don't go undiscovered for long."
"I'm sorry?" Her stomach was spinning.
"You should apologize for wasting my time, Ms. Adler. I checked with your references and I have to say I was shocked when Shane Elliott told me the real story behind your leaving your present position."
"He did." Temper boiled and bubbled in the pit of her stomach and she was forced to take deep, even breaths to steady herself out. "What exactly did Mr. Elliott have to say, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Not at all. He informed me that you were quite possibly the worst assistant he's ever had. And the fact that you're not a team player and actually go out of your way to foment dissension in the ranks … " He paused for breath. "Let me just say that your reputation is less than stellar."
The edges of her vision went a blurry red. She could hardly speak she was so furious and it took all she had not to slam the phone down on Mr. Fabulous Hightower.
"I understand," she finally managed to say.
"I hope you do," he retorted and hung up.
Still clutching the phone, while a dial tone buzzed in her ear, Rachel shifted a look at Shane's closed door. Inhaling sharply, she slapped the phone into its cradle and stomped across the floor toward it. She didn't bother to knock, just shoved it open, slammed it shut behind her and advanced on her boss with blood in her eye.
"Rachel?"
"How dare you?" She slapped both hands on his desk and leaned in toward him.
"How dare you submarine my chances at a new job."
"Now wait a-"
"Mr. Hightower just called to explain personally why he wouldn't be hiring me."
Shane's gaze snapped to one side and he scrubbed one hand across his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
He looked at her again, but couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Now, Rachel-"
"I can't believe you did that, Shane. My God, are you really that petty?"
He jumped to his feet. The cityscape stretched out behind him, snow falling softly against the windows, blurring the edges of his silhouette. The silence in the office was profound.
"It wasn't that. It was-"
"What, Shane? What could possibly have been the motivator for you to tell people lies about me?" She pushed up from the desk, folded her arms across her chest and tapped the toe of her shoe against the carpet. "Four years I've worked for you and in all that time have I ever screwed up?"
"No."
"Fomented dissension in the ranks?"
"No."
"Then why?" she asked, shaking her head and looking at him like she'd never seen him before. And indeed, this side of Shane was a mystery to her. Never before had she seen him so embarrassed. Ashamed.
He blew out a breath, shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "I thought if I could slow down your job search you might change your mind about leaving."
"By lying about me. Amazing."
"A bad idea. I see that now."
"Well, congratulations," she snapped. "A breakthrough. You're finally willing to admit that not everything in the known universe is about Shane Elliott. Other people have their little lives and problems, too."
"Rachel, I'm sorry, I-"
"Forget it," she said, stepping back from his desk but keeping her eyes on him, as if expecting him to stab her in the back again. "It's a lesson learned, that's all. I'm sure I'll grow from the experience."
"Damn it … "
"You can have personnel send me my last check, Shane. I'm leaving now."
"You can't. You gave me two weeks notice."
She'd reached the door. Snaking her arm behind her, she turned the knob and pulled it open. "If you can lie," she said quietly, "then so can I. Goodbye, Shane."
Chapter 11
The dining room at The Tides, the Elliott family home, was elegant but warm.
Deep burgundy walls, with cream colored trim and crown moldings gave it an old-world feeling. A polished to perfection walnut table that could easily sit twelve stood on a thick Oriental carpet. Original oil paintings dotted the walls and a hand carved buffet sat against the far wall.
When Patrick and Maeve Elliott hosted dinner parties, this room sparkled with fine crystal and fragile china. But Shane remembered all the years growing up in this house and he could almost hear the memory of his brothers' and sister's voices echoing off the walls.
The estate was palatial-seven thousand square feet of turn-of-the-century home, surrounded by five acres of meticulously cared for grounds, situated on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Long Island. And though the house could be intimidating to visitors, to the Elliott children it had simply been home. And a great place for spur-of-the-moment games of hide-and-seek.
The roar and hush of the nearby sea pulsed in the background, almost making the old house seem alive. Shane loved this house. But at the moment, he wished he were anywhere but there.
"Your Rachel is certainly a lovely girl," Maeve said, taking a tiny sip of white wine.
Shane snapped his mother a warning look. "She's not my Rachel and yes, she is."
"I sensed a bit of-"
"Mom."
He should have tried to get out of dinner tonight. But to do that, he'd have had to come up with a damn good explanation and at the moment, Shane just wasn't up to it.
Hell, even he couldn't believe how he'd sabotaged Rachel's attempts to leave EPH. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Downplay her abilities, make her seem a little less employable and maybe she'd stay with him.
He hadn't meant to-Damn. Yes, he had. He had meant to screw things up for her.
So what did that make him? A bastard? Or a desperate bastard?
Either way, he'd lost her.
She'd gathered up her things and walked out of the building right after leaving his office. And for the rest of the day, walking past her empty desk drove needles of guilt into his skull, making his head ache and his temper spike.
He could still see the expression on her face when she'd faced him down just a few hours ago. Shock, betrayal, fury. If he could have, he would have kicked his own ass. He never should have given into the temptation to sabotage her job search.
His own fault. He'd let Rachel become too important to him over the years. She'd become such a part of his day, he could barely imagine not having her there.
That thought irritated him more than a little and he scowled to himself.
"Fine, fine," Maeve said, having another sip before setting her glass down on the linen draped table. "Far be it from me to interfere in my children's lives."