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Vanilla On Top(46)

By:C.J. Ellisson


The pretty blonde at the front hands me a cordless phone. “Hello?”

“Tony, it’s me, Heather.”

A fist tightens in my chest, crushing my heart. “What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

“I didn’t run out on you, I swear.”

Everything becomes clear when I connect her leaving to whom I passed in the restaurant. “You’re worried about being seen with me, aren’t you?” Tension I didn’t know I was holding drains out of me.

“I saw Mr. Sayers being seated near our table. I couldn’t risk it. The timing is really bad. Think of how it will look.”

I run a hand through my hair, unused to a woman having to hide to be with me. A few of them used to alert the media for a photo op. “Yeah, I understand.” I breathe out a sigh and hear her do the same on the other end of the line. “I don’t have to like it, but I understand.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t reach you on your cell…”

“I didn’t know I forgot it until Leo came over. Look, I’ve got to pay the bill before I leave. Where are you?”

“I’m two doors down, on the left.”

“Wait for me, please?”

She hesitates, which ratchets up my anxiety another notch. “Okay.”

I signal to Leo for the bill and wait by the front door. After I pay, I bolt out to find her. Why did she hesitate at the end of our call? Is she worried the risk of being with me isn’t worth it?

Two doors down leads me to the closed establishment of a high-end clothier. Heather leans on the locked glass door, one booted ankle crossed over the other. She smiles at my appearance, pushing off to join me on the sidewalk.

She takes a deep breath while striding down the block. “I think we need to lay low for a while.”

I stop on the sidewalk. “What? You mean we can’t be together because you’re worried about your job?”

“That’s not fair. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am.”

I start walking again, unsure if we’re going to my place or hers. “I don’t doubt you worked hard to get where you are. Hell, you’ve done your job and Harvey’s for the last few years.”

She tugs on my arm. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you know that?”

“Easy. I met him and then I read the financials. It didn’t add up. How could this raging alcoholic manage such a complex portfolio and company funds? When I saw you in the meeting and learned you were his assistant, the rest fell into place.”

“How come you saw something no one in my company has seen for years?”

I halt on the sidewalk, hauling her to my front. How can this woman drive me to distraction and make me want to scream like no other woman ever has? Wrapping my arms about her gently, I kiss her hard. Our passion boils, engulfing me in heat. We break for air, both of us gasping. “Maybe what you need to ask yourself is why those people never let themselves see what was right in front of them? Was it easy? Was it cheaper? What did they gain?”

By the shell-shocked expression on her face, I can surmise she’s surprised. “You really think keeping me under Harvey could have been on purpose?”

I shrug, not really caring, just wanting to know where I stand with her. “Does it matter? What matters is how you’re going to let your fear affect us.”

Her spine stiffens and a righteous look of anger comes over her. “My fear? Is that what you think my cautiousness is?” She stomps down the sidewalk, clearly headed for her apartment. Which makes sense when I think about it. She still doesn’t know where my place is. “Did it ever occur to you that I could be sued?”

I hurry after her, mentally slapping myself for my choice of words.

She continues, desperation fueling her. “That if they thought I was collaborating with you, I could be in serious legal trouble?”

“All right, you make some valid points.”

She storms down the street, crossing against the light. Her anger has blinded her to the surroundings. I reach out and grab her long flowing hair, stopping her before she steps into the path of an oncoming cab.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Heather! You almost walked in front of a damn car!” The anger inside at her recklessness tumbles up and out. My own fear holds me hostage—its clutches wrapping around my throat, making breathing difficult.

I force my hands to soothe rather than grab blindly in panic, running my palms up and down her upper arms. “Please, stop and calm down.”

The self-righteous rant drains from her when she realizes what almost happened. “I’m not myself right now. I really need to get home.”