Great Exploitations(3)

Not so fast. “Paperwork? Come on, Henry, you want me to fill out an encyclopedia of paperwork? I was practically Mrs. Callahan for Christ’s sake.” My goal had been to dodge the paperwork-with-the-competition bullet, not bring up our prior almost-nuptials. I didn’t know who was more thrown, me or him. Judging by the continued silence, we were pretty even.

“Even if you did become Mrs. Callahan, you would still be required to fill out paperwork if you wanted to sharpen pencils here. Company policy,” Henry replied, but his voice was quiet. Removed.

I gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But if I have to be single-handedly responsible for killing a tree, I’m not trudging through it with some over-smiley, sweater-set wearing receptionist. If you want me on board, you’re suffering through it with me, Chief Executive Officer.”

Was I bluffing? Sure. Most of my job entailed bluffing of some sort. If Henry said he didn’t have the time, desire, or energy to walk me through mind-numbing stacks of paperwork, I wouldn’t have walked away from the job. It meant too much to the outcome of the Errand. However, Henry didn’t know that.

A second went by, then another.

“You drive a hard bargain, Eve, but I need you.” He’ll need more than my nine-to-five skills when I’m through with him. “We’ll suffer through a murdered tree of paperwork together. I’ve got meetings in the morning, but how about you meet me for lunch and we’ll get after it?”

All of the pieces were falling into position. A smile moved into place. “Okay. Let’s get after it.”

After agreeing on a time and a place, Henry said he had to hop onto a conference call. “Thanks, Eve. I’m thrilled to have you on board.”

I couldn’t manage a simple you’re welcome because Henry’s words bled with sincerity, and even though mine should, I knew they wouldn’t. I should have felt more than welcome to do what I was going to do to Henry after everything he’d put me through. Every piece of me accepted that.

But my damn heart called bullshit.



HENRY HAD SUGGESTED a hole-in-the-wall Irish pub for lunch, which was surprising and yet not surprising. He was one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the country. Holding a business lunch at a place that specialized in bangers and mash and pints of beer didn’t exactly equate. But he was still Henry Callahan, the unpretentious, liked-what-he-liked-and-not-because-it-was-popular man.

I made sure I wasn’t the first to arrive. That was another insider trick we Eves had, and more women could benefit from learning, in my opinion. Men were hunters. They liked the chase almost as much as they loved the . . . rewards of winning the chase. If a woman wanted to be chased, she sure didn’t get there by showing up to a lunch or dinner date first. No, she got there late—late enough he started to wonder if she’d stood him up. Then, when he was squirming in his chair, she arrived with a small smile, a killer outfit, and the chase was on. If it wasn’t on already. With Henry, I knew he was in some stage of the chase. I just had yet to determine if he was warming up or had already caught his stride.

When I meandered into the Irish pub that smelled as old as the outside looked, I realized I was way overdressed . . . which meant I couldn’t care less. I hadn’t picked out my curve-hugging pencil skirt or sheer blouse to blend in. Nope, my objective was the opposite, and as I glided through that joint, every head that turned proved I’d nailed it.

Every head except for one. Of course it was the one I really needed to give me the once-over, all-over, times-two. But no, he was flipping through a stack of papers and seemed positively riveted. I cursed under my breath. Just when I thought I knew everything there was to know in Henry’s file, he became totally oblivious to the one woman with heels and lipstick in the whole place. Actually, I might have been the only woman in the place, but the killer heels and lipstick should have been more attention-grabbing than a big zero. Only when I slid into my seat did Henry notice me.

“Eve, whoa, you kind of snuck up on me.” He dropped the paperwork on the table. “Can I order you something to drink?”

“From how focused you were on that paperwork, I’m certain a herd of stampeding elephants could have snuck up on you just as easily.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll take a glass of wine. If they serve those here—glasses or wine.”

I gave him a hint of a smile before glancing at his half empty beer. It was lunch hour on a work day, he was halfway into a beer, and he hadn’t ordered lunch yet. I couldn’t say with certainty, but I hoped that had something to do with him needing alcohol to help deal with his feelings for me. Of course, not knowing for sure pissed me off big time, because usually I could tell when I was close to luring a Target into my web. I’d never been so unsure on any Errand.