Black Ties and Lullabies, page 8
“Might want to turn on the air conditioner in your car,” Jeremy said.
“Had it going full blast.”
“Or skip the hot coffee.”
“You know I can’t think without coffee.”
Not only could Phil not think without coffee, he couldn’t eat, watch TV, drive, play golf, or probably have sex without it, either. He subsisted on caffeine, fried food, and beer, which meant that in ten years, when he reached age fifty or so, he’d be in danger of dropping dead. But Phil had always said he’d rather live it up and die young than eat crap he hated and wear himself out exercising. When they were in college, he was the kind of guy who smiled a lot, partied hard, and found a reason to like just about anybody he came into contact with. They’d both taken potluck on roommates their freshman year and ended up with each other. Jeremy had sworn Phil’s exuberance would drive him nuts before the first semester was out, but as it turned out, Phil was the perfect foil for his own relentless intensity. Jeremy learned to lighten up around Phil. Learned that women were actually interested in him now that he wasn’t the poor scholarship kid at a rich private high school. Learned to ditch his bad attitude and charm the world with a smile instead. He could leave his past behind and re-create himself any way he wanted to. And the result, twenty years later, was that he was living a life not one man in ten thousand had any chance of experiencing.
Three years ago, he’d reconnected with Phil and brought him on as his chief financial officer, and it was as if twenty years had never passed. Not only was it a plus to have a trusted friend in such an important position, Phil also had a knack for identifying acquisitions that turned out to be pure gold for Sybersense’s bottom line, which also made Jeremy very, very happy.
“Fair warning,” Phil said, as he pushed the button for the elevator. “Alexis has you in her sights for a benefit on the sixteenth.”
“Which does she want this time? My money, or me? Can I get out of it by writing a check?”
“Not this time. A donation is always nice, but what she really wants is to introduce you to ‘the future Mrs. Jeremy Bridges.’ ”
“Ah, God.”
“Sorry. She’s matchmaking again. You know Alexis.”
He did. From the time he brought Phil on board at Sybersense, his wife had made it her personal mission to fix Jeremy up. You have everything else on earth, she told him just about every time she saw him. Now it’s time for a wife.
Jeremy couldn’t even fathom it. For nearly twenty years he’d had blinders on, running at warp speed toward his target, almost fanatically staying on course, building his company into the juggernaut it was today. Women were a pleasant diversion, but the moment one got in the way of his business, she was history. And that was never much of a loss, because there was always another one waiting just around the next corner.
“You haven’t poked your head above water for several weeks now,” Phil said. “What’s up?”
“With everything going on at Sybersense, you have to ask?”
“Alexis tells me this woman she wants to introduce you to is knockout gorgeous. You might want to put it on your calendar.”
“I’ll think about it.”
The elevator doors opened, and they got off on the fourth floor. “It isn’t like you to hole up at home,” Phil said. “Is everything all right?”
The truth was that it had been weeks since he’d been out of the house in the evening. With Sybersense’s new software package only a few months away from hitting the market, he’d been so busy that he’d barely bothered to go out at all. Lately he’d just worked late at the office and then headed home, where he ate whatever Mrs. Spencer left him for dinner, flipped around on ESPN for a while, then went to bed. Maybe if he took Alexis up on her offer to introduce him to a beautiful woman, he could get back in the swing of things. For the first time in a long time, maybe he wouldn’t be going to bed alone.
“Everything’s fine. I just have a lot to think about right now.”
“Meant to ask. How are you and Max getting along these days?”
“Okay.”
“Frankly, he scares the crap out of me. Almost as much as Bernie did.”
Jeremy flinched a little at the mention of her name, but he kept on walking.
“You never told me why you dumped her,” Phil said.
“I didn’t. She had to quit.”
“Why?”
“Personal reasons.”
“What personal reasons?”
Jeremy stopped short. “Phil? Will you stop being so damned nosy? A bodyguard’s a bodyguard. Who gives a damn?”
Phil held up his palms. “Hey. Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
Jeremy hadn’t meant to snap at Phil, but really. Why was the man even asking?
“Are we all set for this morning?” Jeremy asked.
“Right on target,” Phil said. “The team’s ready. We’ll see you at eight to wrap up the last-minute details, but we’re on track to be at the Simcon building by ten-thirty to start due diligence. If everything looks good, we can get this acquisition wrapped up in a hurry.”
After they passed through the glass doors leading to the executive suite, Phil veered to the left to head to his office, while Jeremy strode ahead toward another set of doors leading to his.
He entered his outer office, where Ms. Keyes sat behind her computer, staring at the screen through her bifocals. He swept by her desk just as she was pulling a hard copy of his schedule off the printer.
“Good morning, Mr. Bridges,” she said.
“Good morning, Ms. Keyes. Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever told you how attractive you look in that shade of beige.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bridges,” she said, never looking up, her expression never changing. “How kind of you to say so.”
She might as well have said I put a new box of paper clips in your desk drawer for all the emotion in her voice. It had become a game he played just for the hell of it. Could he get a reaction out of her? Coax a faint blush to her cheeks? A demure smile to her lips?
So far, no luck.
For years he’d hired secretaries who were young and stunningly beautiful, only to have them get married and then pregnant in short order, or have them show up every morning with happy-hour hangovers. Finally he decided that sooner or later he needed some work done, so he’d hired Ms. Keyes.
She took no personal calls at work. She took no time off with sick kids because she didn’t have any. In fact, she’d never even been married, so she had no husband issues to deal with. She leaked nothing to the press. She didn’t question or comment on anything concerning his personal life. He could moonlight as a serial killer, and she’d ignore the bloody scratches on his neck the next morning when she brought him his cup of Colombian dark roast with a splash of cream. In short, he’d hired a highly dependable, highly efficient secretarial robot, and if he could find a way to mass produce her and send the resultant product into the marketplace, his net worth would shoot straight into the stratosphere.
He grabbed the hard copy of his schedule, knowing she’d also sent it to his iPhone and synched it with the calendar program on his PC.
“Your coffee is brewing,” she said. “I’ll have it for you in five minutes.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy said, as he swept his office door open. He headed for his desk, only to realize that somebody was sitting on the sofa. Slowly she turned around, and his heart missed a couple of beats.
Bernie?
Chapter 9
Jeremy’s shock disappeared immediately, replaced by the strangest feeling of relief. She’s come back. She’s going to work for me again. She’s—
Then he saw the look on her face—an intense, narrow-eyed expression he’d seen more often than he cared to count, and every single time it had been on the face of an adversary.
“Bernie,” he said, striding nonchalantly past her to his desk. “What a surprise. Ms. Keyes didn’t tell me I had a visitor.”
“That’s because I didn’t pass by your gatekeeper.”
“Then how—”
“I still have a key to the back elevator, which means you need to have a word with your security people.”
He put his briefcase on his desk. “I’m afraid this is a bad time. I have a meeting in five minutes.”
“They’ll wait. After all, you’re Jeremy Bridges.”
She said the words matter-of-factly, but Jeremy heard the hint of derision in her voice.
“Clearly you have something you’d like to discuss with me,” he said.
“That’s right.”
“Sounds like business.”
“Not entirely.”
“Then meet me later at my house.”
“This is a private matter. There’s nothing private about the inside of your house unless you intend it to be. I’m still not completely certain where all the audio and video recording equipment is in that palace of yours.”
“And you think it’s any safer here?”
“Now it is. You really do need to have a word with your security people.”
Jeremy eyed her carefully, taking note of the way she was dressed—jeans, boots, black T-shirt, even in this heat. He had a feeling she owned about a dozen of each, which probably constituted her entire off-duty wardrobe, even in August. As always, no makeup. Zero jewelry. She looked no more sexy or alluring than she had any other time in the two years he’d known her. So why did just the sight of her make his temperature shoot up ten degrees?
Because he’d experienced the fire beneath the ice.
He sat down in his chair, elbows on the armrests, steepling his fingers in front of him. “All right, Bernie,” he said evenly. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
“It’s about a certain evening we spent together in your safe room.”
Jeremy held his gaze steady at the same time his nerves felt anything but steady. His thoughts shot back to those hot, intense moments when he’d backed her up against that wall, kissing her and touching her in ways he never could have imagined before that night. He only hoped those thoughts didn’t show on his face, because if they did, this woman would have him at a disadvantage before he knew what hit him.
Then he noticed she was tapping her fingertips against the sofa cushion. Just the slightest bit of movement, but for Bernie, who controlled every move she made, she might as well have been chain smoking. What did it mean? She was nervous, yes, which meant that maybe she was the one at a disadvantage. But why was she nervous? He had no idea. What could she possibly—
And then the truth came to him. He froze for several moments, turning the thought over in his mind. He couldn’t imagine that a woman like Bernie would ever do such a thing, but what other explanation was there?
Then he got angry.
He stood, grabbed a few papers he needed for his meeting, and shoved them into his briefcase. “I don’t have time for this right now,” he said, zipping the briefcase shut.
“Wait a minute!” Bernie said. “Where are you going?”
“I told you I have a meeting.”
“Five minutes,” she said, standing up. “For God’s sake, at least you can give me that.”
“It’s not necessary. Just give me the name of your attorney; we’ll let the professionals handle it.”
“Professionals?”
“Though you must know that I hire only the best. Think twice about what you’re doing, Bernie. My people will eviscerate yours in court.”
“Court? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. Maybe you’d better fill me in.”
He took several slow, menacing steps forward and stared down at her. “Don’t insult me. I can hear a sexual harassment suit coming from a mile away.”
Her mouth fell open. “A what?”
“Save it. I know where this is going.”
She barked out a tiny laugh. “No, I don’t think you do.”
“You’ll say I coerced you. But you and I both know it was mutual. You’ll tell me I was in a position of authority over you so there was no such thing as mutual consent. Then I’ll tell you that most of the time we were having sex, you were over me, so the very idea that—”
“I’m pregnant.”
For the count of five, Jeremy stopped talking. Stopped moving. Stopped breathing. When his power of speech finally returned, his voice was choked with disbelief. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Pregnant. The word bounced around in his head, refusing to stay put long enough for him to absorb it. His gaze traveled south, looking for some kind of indication—
“Will you cut that out?” Bernie snapped. “There’s nothing down there to see. Not yet, anyway.”
He jerked his gaze back up and assumed an air of nonchalance. “So you’re pregnant. Congratulations.”
“Congratulations to you, too. You’re the father.”
Jeremy’s heart jolted hard. “No, I’m not.”
“Believe me. You are.”
A tremor of apprehension crept up his spine. There was no way. He knew there was no way, but still…
Just then his office door opened, and Ms. Keyes came in holding a cup of coffee. She looked at Bernie with surprise, then turned to Jeremy. “Mr. Brandenburg and the others—”
“Not now,” Jeremy said.
“Your eight o’clock meeting—”
“Tell them to wait.”
“I have your coffee—”
“Go!” Jeremy snapped.
Ms. Keyes backed quickly out of his office, her heels clicking like machine-gun fire, and closed the door behind her. With a deep, silent breath, Jeremy sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms, slowly turning his attention back to Bernie.
“Do you even know for sure you’re pregnant?” he asked her.
“You’re insulting me. Do you think I’d be here if I weren’t sure?”
He remembered with total clarity the expression on her face as she left his safe room that night. It was the look of a woman who’d had more than enough, who’d stepped over a line she’d never meant to cross, who couldn’t wait to put every moment of it behind her. He’d thrown all kinds of money at her, but nothing had brought her back.
Until now. Until this.
“So,” he said carefully, “you’re pregnant, and you think I’m the father?”
“I don’t think you’re the father. Unless I’m experiencing the second case of immaculate conception in recorded history, I know you’re the father.”
“If there have been other men—”
“There haven’t. You can insist you’re not the father, but you and I both know it’s a waste of time.”
“Since you’re telling me about this,” he said, “I assume you intend to go through with it?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Are you sure? You must have just found out. Have you really had a chance to think about it?”
“Don’t patronize me,” Bernie said. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Why would a woman like you burden herself with a child?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Which are?”
“None of your business and never will be.”
Jeremy felt this situation slipping out of his control, his mind spinning in a dozen different directions. He had stay on top of it. Get a grip, and get it now.
“Fine,” he said. “You’re pregnant. But I’m telling you—the baby’s not mine.”
“I know you’re thinking that because you used a condom, it couldn’t have happened,” Bernie said. “But they’re not a hundred percent effective, and you know it.”
“They certainly make pregnancy much more unlikely.”
“So you think I’m lying?”
“Are you?”
Bernie narrowed her eyes, her lips tightening with anger. “Once the baby’s born, DNA testing will prove you’re the father, so why would I bother lying now?”
He made a scoffing noise. “That’s pretty clear, isn’t it?”
“No, I’m afraid it’s not.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. How much money do you want?”
Bernie’s mouth fell open. “You think that’s why I’m here? To extort money from you?”
“You wouldn’t be the first woman to try it.”
“But if you think I’m lying and you could eventually prove it, what would be the point of my asking for money now?”
She was right. And with her staring back at him the way she was right now, her eyes unblinking, her expression resolute, he was reminded once again that she wasn’t like some women he’d known, who would sell their own souls to have access to his bank account.
“If not money,” he said, “then what do you want?”
When she turned to the sofa, reached into a manila folder she’d brought with her, and pulled out a stack of legal-sized papers, Jeremy’s mouth went dry. Papers like those meant she’d retained an attorney, and that was always a red flag, telling him he’d damned well better stay on his toes.
She rose from the sofa and tossed the papers on his desk. “I want full custody.”
Jeremy blinked with surprise. “What?”
“You heard me. Sign these papers, and you never have to see me or this child ever again.”
Jeremy was stunned. “I never took you for a fool.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you really are pregnant and you believe I’m the father, why aren’t you demanding child support?”
“Because it’s better for a kid to have no father than a lousy one, no matter how much money that lousy father is forced to give him.”
Jeremy was surprised at how much that stung. “What makes you think I’d be a lousy father?”
“Are you telling me you’d be a good one?”
The question caught him off guard, and it was a moment before he answered. “Quite frankly, I’ve never even thought about it, since I never planned to be one.”
“In other words, if you ever got a woman pregnant, you figured you’d just pay her off and that would be that?”
