Chapter Eleven

Harper

I sat at my desk, working my way through emails and electronic meeting requests, struggling not to sigh in boredom. Though tedious at the best of times, today the task seemed even more annoying. My thoughts were a conflicted mess. Being close to Reed Matheson again, even for just a few short hours, had thrown me for a loop. My body hummed with electric anticipation as if soaring high on a lust drug so my concentration all but flew out the plate glass window. It was affecting my job, and nothing pissed me off more than that.

Julie approached with my standard tall, nonfat misto with cinnamon sprinkles and set it near my elbow.

“You asked me to review our community support calendar,” she said.

I leaned back and hooked a finger in the handle of my coffee mug, glad for the interruption from the cyber noise and my troubled mental ramblings. Now if only the glorious rush of caffeine could help me escape the tingling in my body, I’d be good to go.

“Right. It’s time to share the love.” I’d asserted that one of the major pillars of MediGo’s business plan would be charity donations. All the good intentions, sharing of knowledge, support and promotion of best practices didn’t mean much without real dollars dedicated to research and development of medicines and treatment.

“Remind me what events you’ve committed to already?”

“Not me, you,” Julie said, waving off any culpability. “I’ve looked into every pet cause you suggested and came up with a budget and a calendar. My involvement ends there. The big decisions involving cold, hard cash rest on your plate, boss.”

“Aw, just think. You could sit through hours of heartfelt speeches and catered appetizers, and tote around a big cardboard check.”

Julie rolled her eyes heavenward. “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, I shouldn’t be the face of MediGo. You should be.”

“It shouldn’t have a face at all,” I argued. “MediGo is about many faces. All different, unique, and equally important. I just help bring them together.”

“Well, you can wear a mask if you like, but your presence is confirmed at the fundraising dinner for the Children’s Leukemia Foundation on Friday.”

“This Friday?” I repeated. “That’s the day after tomorrow. How did such a big deal slip my notice?”

Because you’ve been obsessed with a certain blast from the past.

She threw me a no shit look. “It’s a five thousand a plate dinner, and we booked two seats. Plus, a fifty-grand donation on behalf of MediGo, so you’d better be there. Who are you going to take? And don’t say me, or I’ll throw an assistant fit.”

I took a sip of my brew a little too quickly, and it burned my tongue. Shit. I’d forgotten all about it. I’d need a date. I left a message with Irene telling her about the disaster with Cody and was rapidly losing the stomach for another setup with the potential to go horribly wrong.

“No one you know,” I said, wincing in temporary pain as I thought about how I could get out of attending.

As if on cue, my cell phone went off. I glanced at the screen and saw Irene’s private number.

“I have to take this,” I said to Julie, and with a knowing look, she left the room with stealth precision. I didn’t even hear the door shut behind her. “Hi, this is Laurie.”

“Good morning, Laurie. I want to express my apologies again for your inconvenience the other night. I’m so sorry you were disappointed with Mr. Nash, and I want to make it up to you. As I’ve said before, I value your business and will make every effort to ensure your satisfaction. I do hope you will give the agency yet another chance.”

“Thank you, Irene, I really appreciate your dedication to your clients, but I’m just not sure I want to go through this again. It’s ceased to be fun or even exciting.”

“Now, Laurie, before you make that decision, I want you to know that I’ve spoken with Mr. Matheson and told him he is forbidden to have any further contact with you, so you needn’t worry about him. Why don’t I take you to lunch today, and we can discuss some alternatives? I have some other prospects I think will be better suited for you.”

“Alright,” I said with a sigh. With this charity function looming over my head in less than forty-eight hours, I’d just run out of options. I needed an appropriate date, and I needed him now. Even if I had to pay for him along with my four-figure meal. “I’ll meet you at Franco’s at noon.”

“Perfect. See you there.”

I disconnected the call and took another cautious sip of my coffee. Wait a minute. Children’s Leukemia Foundation? Hadn’t Reed said his daughter suffered from some rare form of leukemia? I cursed fate for working against me. Or maybe it was with me, I couldn’t tell anymore. But if there was one way to help Reed—and see him again officially—without the resulting guilt and shame, this charitable affair would be the perfect way to make that happen. I’d been fooling myself all along to think just any muscled hunk with two legs and a Y chromosome could satisfy my needs. I wanted Reed and always had. Continuing to deny it to myself was futile.

As lunch hour drew near, I knew what I had to say to Irene. And she wouldn’t like it, but I was damn sure she’d take my money anyway.

***

I arrived at Franco’s Deli just before noon to find the pristine Irene Sutton already waiting for me. She waved to me from a booth by the window, and as I slid onto the bench opposite her, I noted that her expression seemed pale and anxious despite her polished smile. Coupled with finding her nearly in tears last time we met, a big red flag raised in the back of my mind. The woman was normally hard as nails. Dammit, my natural empathy for others had been my success but also my Achilles heel.

“What’s wrong?” I asked before I could stop myself. “And don’t evade. I run a multi-billion-dollar corporation. My instincts are sharp.”

Her smile froze in place for a second or two, then dissolved into a sheepish, guilty shadow of its former self.

“You’re such a perceptive and caring person, Laurie. I’m so fortunate to have you as a client. Most of my clientele is quite… self-indulgent.”

I can damn well imagine.

But most of her clientele was hiring companionship for pleasure and not to get rid of a very humiliating physical and mental issue. I returned her smile and picked up the menu, delighting in the compliment while hopeful she’d leave her bullshit at the door. But not for much longer if she didn’t start delivering on her promises.

“Anything I can do to help?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Well, of course, I’m here to help you,” Irene pointed out. “Which in turn will help me.” She heaved a wistful sigh. “It’s just that… I’m planning to retire soon, and I’ve signed a construction deal with a condo developer in Honduras. It’s a rapidly growing tourism area, you know.”

“Honduras? I didn’t know that,” I said, deciding on my usual scrumptious steak salad, the reason I frequented the deli. “It sounds wonderful even though I’ve never been there.” Not my first choice of tropical destinations, but then a vacation seemed like a far-off dream.

“Oh, it is,” she said with breezy confidence, then turned sullen again. “Unfortunately, my contractor has disappeared with all the pre-sale money. I have to start all over, and of course, that means putting up an additional investment. It’s put quite a dent in my assets, so…” She lifted an elegant shoulder.

“Retirement dreams will have to wait a little longer?” I suggested. “That sucks.”

“I knew you’d understand. I do so appreciate your business. Now on that note…” she changed direction like a carnival bumper car and withdrew her computer tablet from a case, “let’s make your dreams come true, shall we? I’ve highlighted a number of profiles I think you’ll be very pleased with.”

I held up my palm. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already come to a decision, and I expect you to make it happen. I know I can count on you.”

Her eyes widened in either fear or curiosity. Probably both.

“You have? I mean… of course. Anything for you. I will make it happen. Just tell me what it is, and I’ll deliver it.”

“I have to attend a charity fundraiser this Friday night, and it will look strange for me to arrive solo, especially since my company is a major benefactor. I won’t go into detail, but because of the nature of the event, it’s imperative that you engage Reed Matheson again. I won’t accept anyone else.”

Irene stared as if she hadn’t heard me. Or didn’t want to. She set her tablet aside and speared me with an icy glare that reflected her extreme annoyance, like I’d just made a fool of her.

“But you’ve already told me you didn’t want to see him again, and I can certainly understand why. He’s not the man for you, Laurie. Given your past history, and his unprofessional behavior, I can’t in good conscience recommend him to you. Yours is a sensitive situation, and he’s not a sensitive man.”

Maybe he wasn’t. But he is now.

“I know, but you’ll have to make an exception in this case. I insist. And I’m willing to make it worth your while. How about double his usual fee?”

Twenty thousand ought to buy her one hell of a down payment for Honduras. Her brow wrinkled and her lips pursed as if she’d just sucked down the lemon rind she’d used to flavor her water.

“I’ve told him in no uncertain terms he’s not to have contact with you. I’ll look ridiculous going back on my word. Please, let me find you someone better. More predictable. You’ll be much happier, I guarantee it,” Irene said, her face looking strained as she patted my hand. “I’ve been at this a long time, my dear. Rest assured, I know what’s best for a woman in your situation with your special needs. Why, Reed hasn’t even been fully vetted from a purely physical standpoint. I really have no idea about the depth of his skill set or his assets.”

I took a sip of my water and almost spit it back out. His assets? I couldn’t blame her. I’d been imagining about what Reed looked like naked for over twenty years. Of course, I had seen his bare ass, but he’d been seven and running through the sprinkler. I set my glass back down with expert precision, but my smile turned icy. With her plight over her lost retirement funds, she’d just given me the perfect leverage to get what I wanted.

“Like you said, you’re fortunate to have me as a client, and I think I can help you.” I pulled my free hand out from under hers and gestured back and forth, like the scales of justice. “You want more money… and I want Reed. I don’t see a problem working this out to our mutual advantage.”

Irene’s face seemed to cloud over a little, then a sly smile formed on her chemically-peeled features.

“Are you making me an offer I can’t refuse? I adored Marlon Brando back in his day. Such a handsome and powerful man.”

There were few times when I enjoyed tossing my wealth around, but I was enjoying it immensely at this moment. “Yes, I am. How does twenty-five thousand sound? That’s more than double his usual fee.”

“I think I hear a steel drum band playing in the distance,” she said as the curve of her lips blossomed into a crescent moon of greedy delight. “Consider it done.”

I leaned back in satisfaction as our lunches arrived. Money always talked, and occasionally, I had to let it do my talking for me.

“So, what will you do with Irene Sutton Formals after you sail into the Honduran sunset?” I asked after the waitress left.

Her business enterprise must be worth quite a lot, and I couldn’t see her just giving all that up. I was curious. Was an escort business something you handed down to your kids? The thought struck me as funny. But I sobered as it got me thinking about my own future. Though nowhere near retirement, at present, I had no heir to bestow my fortunes on, either. Did Irene?

“I have some options,” she said, digging into her salad. “I can simply close it, or sell it. Or keep it running at arm’s length from overseas. I’m considering grooming someone for management at the moment. Someone with the natural charm and people skills needed to succeed in the client satisfaction business. We’ll see how that goes.”

“Really? How interesting. Do you have family to take it over?”

The woman came as close to blushing as I’d ever seen her. She chewed and swallowed a mouthful of lettuce before answering.

“I have no children if that’s what you’re asking. I have cousins, nieces, nephews. All they know about my business is that I rent formal wear. Best to keep it that way. You never know who you can really trust. Even family.”

“I thought that was just a… a… cover?” I said, searching for the right descriptor that wouldn’t sound insulting. “You really do rent formal wear?”

“Yes, dear. It’s not my major revenue stream, just something to appease the tax man. And I do have several high-profile clients in that line of the business too. Wealthy entrepreneurs and occasional visiting celebrities. In fact, I have a standing contract to outfit the executive staff for the Minnesota Caribou hockey club when they have press conferences and other official functions.”

I nearly choked on a glob of goat cheese.

“The Caribou? No kidding?” I said after recovering.

Yikes. That was a scandal ripe for picking by the press… Minnesota’s beloved northern team rubbing shoulders with an undercover madam? As if they didn’t have enough dirt on their faces after Reed’s sensational exit from the team and subsequent financial fuck-over. Adam Spencer’s car accident and DUI served as the cherry on top of that sundae. Last I heard, he’d gotten married to a swanky interior designer. But all that had been swept under the rug years ago.

“I have to admit I’m a big hockey fan,” Irene continued, a dreamy quality overtaking her features. “I’ve had season tickets for the Rochester Riot and the Caribou the last several years. I give many of the tickets away as gifts to my clients. But a few times a year, I fly up to Duluth to attend a game and make a weekend of it. It’s where I first saw Mr. Matheson, in fact.”

My jaw locked around my next mouthful of food at her revelation. Had this tidbit slipped out by accident? If Irene knew the Caribou, she knew Reed, and couldn’t possibly be unaware of his situation. Was she playing him? Taking advantage of his bad luck? Something burned in my gut that had nothing to do with Franco’s menu. Something like anger. Only worse. Maybe the two of them knew each other better than she let on—and did more than one kind of business together. Was Reed just one of her lackeys? Engaged in monkey business with Irene? The thought sickened me. Had he really sunk so low as to fuck an old woman?

Now, who was really being played?