Shane snorted a laugh and his mother's eyes narrowed on him.
"Well," she pointed out, "if you and your brothers and sisters would talk to me about what's bothering you, I wouldn't have to pry now would I?"
"Ah, so it's our fault."
"Darlin'," she said, a soft smile still curving her mouth, "I can plainly see that there's something bothering you. Won't you tell me?"
For a moment or two, he considered it. Just unloading on his mom. Then he thought about how Maeve would react when she discovered what he'd done to Rachel and thought better of it.
"I spoke to Rachel this afternoon," his mother said into the silence.
"Really? About what?"
"The charity ball," Maeve reminded him. "She wanted to say that despite the fact she no longer worked for you, she would continue to oversee the preparations."
"Ah." Of course she'd do that. Rachel was the most responsible human being he'd ever known. She took her duties seriously and once she'd given herself up to a project, she never quit.
Not even when she had more than enough reason to.
"Idiot," he muttered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to ease the headache pounding behind them.
"Aye," Maeve said, the Irish accent she'd never quite lost dancing in her tone, "apparently you are, dear. Would you like to explain to me why you've fired that lovely girl?"
"I didn't fire her."
"She quit?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He slanted Maeve a look and wished he hadn't. He was thirty-eight years old, the newly crowned head of a Fortune 500 company and one steely glare from his mother could completely cow him.
Thankfully he was saved by an interruption.
"What're you two talking about?" Patrick asked as he walked into the room, heels clicking on the marble floor, and took the chair at the head of the table.
"Not a thing, my love," Maeve said, patting his hand. But the look she sent Shane told him that this wasn't over.
"Hmm." Patrick wasn't convinced, but he was willing to let it go. Focusing his gaze on Shane, he asked, "Before dinner arrives, why don't you tell me what your plans are for the company?"
"Patrick," his wife said, "can't we have a single meal without discussing business?"
"No," Shane said quickly, eager to talk about anything but Rachel. If he could keep his mother's mind off of that subject, he just might be able to get through dinner and escape before she could corner him again. "It's fine. Actually I'd like to get Dad's opinion on a few things."
Maeve picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, focusing her gaze on her son.
Shane pretended he didn't feel that hot stare and concentrated instead on his father.
The next week was a blur of activity.
Even though Rachel was now officially unemployed, she was busier than ever, coordinating the charity function. Keeping in touch with the event planner at the Waldorf, Rachel had her finger on every hot button.
Nothing was getting past her; she wouldn't allow it. If this was going to be her final task for EPH, it was going to be one that people would be talking about for years. She'd arranged for a ten-foot pine tree to be delivered and professionally decorated. There would be a champagne fountain, a chocolate bar and enough hors d'oeuvres to keep even the most famished guest satisfied.
Every table at the event would boast its own tiny tree, complete with twinkling lights, and garlands of holly and mistletoe would be wound around the perimeter of the elegant room.
This ball was going to be organized smoother than a military coup. There wouldn't be a single hiccup.
She took a bite of her maple scone and shifted a look out through the window of the coffeehouse at the street beyond. Dark clouds hovered over the city as if waiting for just the right moment to dump another few inches of snow on the already slushy streets. People were bundled up, colorful scarves wound tightly around their mouths and necks. And the wind whipped down the high-rise canyons, snatching up trash and twirling it through the air.
Made her cold just looking out at it. So she turned back to the paperwork spread out over the table in front of her and got back down to the business of running a charity event.
Her cell phone rang and Rachel rummaged in her oversized purse for it. A perky little tune played louder as she grabbed it, and a few of the patrons in the coffeehouse glared at her. "Hello?"
"Honey, how's it going?" Christina's voice came across in whispered concern.
Rachel leaned back in her chair, picked up her latte and took a drink. She'd only spoken to her friend once since leaving EPH and Rachel had really missed her. "It's going great."
"Uh-huh."
"Really." She put every ounce of conviction she possessed into her voice, but clearly it wasn't enough to convince Christina.
"Oh sure, I believe you."
"Fine," Rachel muttered, shooting a glare at a bearded man hunched over his laptop. What was up with him? He was allowed to type and clatter but she couldn't have a conversation? Honestly, some people.
Focusing on her friend, Rachel said, "I'm working myself to death to keep from thinking about Shane."
"That's what I figured. So if you're still so nuts about him, why'd you quit?"
"What other choice did I have?" she demanded a little too loudly and glared right back at the Beard. Lowering her voice, she said, "I couldn't stay there after-"
God, she couldn't even think about those nights with Shane. It was hard enough to lie there in her bed and remember him lying alongside her. To imagine the hush of his breath, the sweep of his hands on her body, the taste of his mouth on hers.
She took a gulp of hot coffee and burned her mouth. Good. Nice distraction.
"Okay," Christina said, "sex with the boss would make things a little … sticky."
"Yeah, just a touch. But it's more than that, too."
"You mean it's because you love him?"
Rachel winced. "Oh God. Yes. I do. And it's hopeless and pitiful and ridiculous and all of the above at once." She shook her head and trailed the tip of her index finger around the circumference of her coffee cup lid. "He's never going to see me like that. Never going to love me back. How could I stay there?"
"I guess you couldn't," Christina said on a sigh. "But I really miss you around here."
"Miss you, too. Heck, I miss my job. I was good at it, you know?"
"I know." There was a long pause and then Christina lowered her voice so much Rachel could scarcely hear her. "Would it help to know that since you've been gone, Shane's been miserable?"
Instantly Rachel cheered right up. "Really? His new admin isn't working out?"
"Doesn't have one."
"No way." Surprise made her voice a little louder again and this time Beard actually lifted his index finger to his mouth and warned, "Shhh." Rachel sneered at him.
Shane hadn't hired someone to take her place? Why not? She'd been gone a week.
And heaven knew the man couldn't keep track of his own appointment schedule. He needed someone highly organized or he'd never get anything done. And that thought brought a small smile to her face.
"It's weird. Your desk sits there empty," Christina said, "like the elephant at the cocktail party that nobody wants to talk about."
It shouldn't have made her feel better that Shane hadn't replaced her, but it did. She should be letting him go, getting on with the life she'd promised herself to find. But how could she, when every other minute Shane's face kept popping up into her mind?
"So who's doing all the work if he hasn't hired somebody?"
"No one. That seems to be the problem."
"Oh boy."
"Exactly. And he's not a happy camper these days. Shane's got every department head hopping. Jonathon even threatened to quit yesterday!"
"No, he didn't."
"Oh, yes, he did and Shane backed off quick. I mean, he's crabby, but he's not stupid. If he lost you and Jonathon, he'd really be up the proverbial creek. And to top it all off, Shane slams his office door so often, the doorjamb's coming loose."
For a moment or two, Rachel indulged herself, pretending that it was her he missed. But in reality she knew better. Right now he was angry because she hadn't fallen into line with his plans. He was feeling a little ashamed of himself for ruining Rachel's job opportunity and he was, no doubt, frustrated because his office life wasn't running as smoothly as usual.
"He'll survive," Rachel said firmly, "and so will I. I hope."
"You hang in there, honey," Christina said. "How about you and I meet for dinner tonight?"
"I'd really love to," Rachel assured her, "but I can't. I have to go to my folks' house for the annual What's Wrong with Rachel holiday discussion."