Love on the Vine Page 2

  Oliver caught the file neatly between his palms. “This slows us down.”

  Cappy Don shrugged again, showing an infuriating lack of care. “So, we go back a few steps. Do what you do and find. Read her file again. Slow, like you’re searching for a secret code. Kay Bing has survived working side-by-side with one of the biggest ball busters in this city. Between that and her license to carry a concealed weapon, she’s probably going to have a few surprises for you. However...” He stopped to give Oliver a hard look from beneath the unforgiving line of his brow. “She shouldn’t be a problem. Not unless you make her one, Pierce.”

  Oliver ran a hand over his face. Cappy Don had one thing right. It was exhausting to be him. “I’ll start right away.”

  “Make sure you do.” Then Cappy Don smiled that smile—the one that gave Oliver pause every time, because it usually meant a joke was coming, and Oliver was the punchline. “Our girl starts tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  The Free Leaf Concepts building was a narrow silver spire that stabbed into Little Rock’s hazy blue downtown sky like it was trying to pick a fight with the clouds. Aggressive, bold, but innovative and inspiring, too. Everything was chrome and shiny outside, as if they wanted to blast their clients in the face with the good stuff the moment they walked into the foyer. It worked. The lobby was a spectacle. The concrete and shiny metal of the outside world, from the dirty sidewalks to the old brick grandfather buildings lining the streets, were a million miles away as soon as Kay stepped through the mirrored doors, etched with Free Leaf’s chrome leaf emblem.

  Crimson chrysanthemums were arranged around copper sculptures and red velvet couches in the waiting area. The fixtures and lighting were all shades of gold and honey. It was vibrant, masterfully done, and Kay wanted to touch everything.

  “I’ve never seen chrysanthemums that shade,” she breathed to the receptionist when she came to gather Kay. “I mean, red is common enough, but that...Well, that’s not red. That’s fresh blood. I’ve seen fresh blood, I would know.”

  The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly. Kay cleared her throat and stood up straight. She might look like a particularly wise fourteen-year-old, but Neve had taught her a thing or two about commanding herself. Kay had spent the last year taking orders and doling them out under her mentor’s watchful eye. With Neve backing her, Kay had never lacked for confidence. Now, there was no mean lady over her shoulder, daring someone not to take the five-foot-nothing Kay Bing seriously. She was on her own here. She couldn’t just rely on Neve—she had to be Neve.

  The receptionist watched her curiously. Kay held back a heavy sigh. She’d never been good at first impressions. She offered the receptionist a bland smile. “Never mind. Long story. Hi, I’m Kay Bing. You should be expecting me. Or, at least, someone should.”

  The woman smiled back. She had on a turtleneck dress with cap sleeves in a shade near exact to the sofa, and a clear clipboard tucked against one jutting hip. “I’m Brit. And you’ve probably never seen chrysanthemums like that because that particular shade was manufactured in house. We have a remarkable botanist. His lab takes up the entire third floor. Please, follow me.”

  Kay tried hard to keep her excitement in check, but it thrummed through her like an electric guitar. “In house?” she repeated. “You have your own botanist? Wow. You know, I dig the monochrome, but a few pale yellow tulips would really—”

  “No tulips,” Brit interjected apologetically. “Company policy. Too common. One of the most cultivated flowers in the world. Free Leaf Concepts prides itself on ‘top shelf’ fauna, if you will.” Then she pulled a face, sticking out her tongue in a small grimace. “At least, that’s the line I feed clients. We do, of course, pander to special requests, but it requires ordering through a third party.”

  “Got it. No tulips.” Kay’s enthusiasm wilted a little as she followed Brit. She was going to work for a bunch of flower snobs. Tulips were wonderful and hardy. She hated to think how they felt about daffodils.

  Brit guided her through a hallway like something out of Kay’s wildest dreams. Jungle met concrete in a fantastic display of nature and man-made coming together in glorious harmony. The walls were mixed concrete overlaid with milky silver panels that cast distorted reflections placed randomly along the length of the curved hallway. Ledges cradling passionflower vines were cut into niches of concrete between the panels. The vines grew elegantly from one ledge to the next. The odd silver panels gave a strange, funhouse illusion of greenery dipping and swirling everywhere, all at once. The ceiling was low, painted a subtle sage green that reflected the industrial carpeting underfoot, and recessed lighting cast a pale light, as if the hallway were awash in lazy afternoon sunlight. The design was a marvel.

  The hallway ended at a round glass-encased elevator. Brit punched a button but didn’t move to step inside. “Fifth floor is all executive offices and conference rooms. Mr. Arnell, our director of operations, will probably call you in for a briefing sometime, but his calendar and working hours are hectic. Don’t expect to get much advance warning. Could be this afternoon or next month. He’s out of the office from noon to two most days. Complete nightmare to schedule him with clients. Your office is on the fourth floor.”

  Kay smiled. Just one small floor away from the botany labs. She stepped inside the cylindrical elevator.

  Brit made a notation on her clipboard and grimaced with distaste. “Damian Roscoe may still have a few personal affects in the office. You can have your assistant, Oliver, clear them out for you. He and Roscoe were buddies, so don’t take it personally if he doesn’t hop-to on the first day, okay? He’s a good guy, even if Roscoe was an idiot douchebag.” She gave Kay a bright smile and a wave, then punched another button that set the doors to closing. “Your team is anxious to meet you. Have a great first day, Ms. Bing.”

  Kay blinked at the receptionist’s retreating form, then put Brit’s parting comment aside. Office gossip wasn’t on the agenda.

  She fixed her expression into a stone mask of observation, just like she’d seen Neve do a thousand times. It usually meant the gears were turning, calculating budget, measurements, and people all at once, deciding in an instant what, where, when, how, and why. For Kay, the stony façade would be a tool. A shield. At least, for today. Tomorrow, maybe it wouldn’t be a mask, but the real thing.

  She tucked her nerves and self-doubts into her back pocket. She straightened the collar of her no-nonsense black button-up. Instead of a tie, she wore a neat silk bow in a muted gray. Professional. Not overly cute.

  Kay couldn’t dress cute. Dressing cute meant jokes about curfew, and did her parents know where she was. Ha-ha. Yep, she got it. She was little. But she also knew if she wanted to be the queen, she couldn’t dress like the jester. Anything pastel—light pink, pale lavender, baby blue—was out of the question. Hacking off her hair helped to a degree, and recently she’d began wearing heavier makeup, finding it aged her. Scrubbed clean, she could pass for a young teenager. She might be the only woman alive looking forward to a few wrinkles.

  The glass elevator pinged eloquently, like someone had installed a doorbell from one of the homes in the Governor’s Mansion district, when it finally came to a stop. The door slid open.

  A handsome man—the kind with an eye-catching appearance that encouraged a second glance—waited just on the other side. His eyes, the same subtle green as the ceiling in the hallway downstairs, scoured her in one quick motion, literally sizing her up. He smiled indulgently, like he wanted to offer her a quarter for the candy machines. But not before she caught the gleam of calculation, there and gone in a blink.

  He held out his hand. The smile lingered, relaxing into something with a little more warmth. “Oliver Pierce. But you can call me whatever you like. ‘Fetch that file’ is a big hit. ‘More coffee,’ another favorite.”

  Her assistant. He would be charming, good-looking, and not outrageously tall. A tad on the rugged side, with stubble arranged almo
st artfully across his jaw, and eyes the color of sage under an expressive brow. His gaze held his candid smile.

  Kay took his hand without moving a single muscle on her face. God, the effort. She’d never know how Neve kept it up. “Nice to meet you, Oliver.”

  He seemed put off by her dry greeting. His smile dialed back a few degrees. He had the beginning of a few lines around his eyes. Older than she was. “Likewise,” he said. Then he took off in a sudden energetic burst, beckoning her to follow. “C’mon, I’ll show you to your office.”

  Kay tried not to notice Oliver Pierce had a confident stride for a man on the less generous side of five-eleven. And he did his gray dress slacks more than mere justice—he served them with fervor. He definitely worked out. And went hard on the glutes, by the look of it. His sandy light brown hair was cut stylishly, close on the sides and swept back rakishly from his forehead. The style suited him.

  A sharp twang of shame hit the back of her throat like that first fizzy sip of an ice-cold soda. She dragged her gaze away from his body. No distractions. No handsome guy butts. No dips into the past for unwelcome reminders.

  She straightened her shoulders and found something else to look at while they walked. Framed photos, editorials, and covers from esteemed magazines decorated the hallway. The hallways on this floor were less showy than the reception area, which made sense. The walls were white, the carpet beige.

  Oliver talked over his shoulder as he walked. “You’ve heard about Damian Roscoe by now, surely. We were buds. I’m sad to see him go, but some guys never learn.”

  “Oh?” Kay did her best to sound disinterested.

  “Yup.” He came upon a door at last and turned the chrome knob. The door, plastic and high-concept modern, swung open easily. Oliver gestured for Kay to enter the room, then stepped inside behind her. “Sent nudies to the receptionist. Poor Brit. She’s cool. Nudies aren’t cool. Well, unless they’re requested, but I don’t think Brit wanted to know what Roscoe’s little Roscoes looked like.”

  Kay kept her lips carefully pressed together. One minute in his company, and he was bringing up nudes. Her brain was not impressed. Her body was going straight for the sign marked “Forbidden Territory” in the back of her head. She didn’t think she’d ever requested nudes from a man, but she was curious about Oliver’s workout regimen.

  She pulled herself together and focused on other details about Oliver. Like how he didn’t seem all that torn up over his good buddy’s sudden departure. And how his lips were loose as old pantyhose. She watched him open large bamboo blinds, sending slats of sunlight across white space and his own profile.

  The way he observed her, half of his face slashed by yellow sunlight, the other half masked in near shadow, made her skin flush with a spike of desire. Kay might look like a little girl, but she knew when a man looked at her and saw a woman. For a full second, their gazes were locked, a smile ghosting across Oliver’s wide lips.

  Kay kept her features carefully slack, giving nothing away, tongue firmly planted inside her mouth instead of running over her lips. Maybe she was doomed to be a slut. It was her calling, her destiny, to be attracted to everything with nice hair and a penis. As absurd as it sounded, she was running out of explanations as to just what was wrong with her. It took some effort, but she finally broke the tension and steered her gaze elsewhere.

  Her office. Boxes crowded the space. Papers, a comically oversized stapler, and a lamp with some random team logo emblazoned across the shade were scattered among the many surfaces. Roscoe’s personal affects, Kay guessed. Gleaming white tiled floors reflected the sunlight back into her eyes. Every wall had a mounted whiteboard, and a litter of dry-erase markers cradled underneath. Her desk was long and narrow, with lots of drawers and a lamp bolted to the surface at one end. Tiny surface. Meant for storage, not work. The work area would be the massive, waist-high drafting table in the center of the room.

  Oliver remained near the window, rubbing his hands together like he couldn’t wait to get down to the real work. “How’s everything so far?”

  She gave her new office a final once-over. Lots of room to move about, space for creativity, a rolling chair that looked like she could dock it at the international space station. She liked everything, barring one small exception.

  “Well,” she admitted slowly, letting the word become two regrettable syllables. “I like everything. Except for you.” She met his gaze again, certain the only thing between them this time would be tension, minus the sexual undertones.

  As predicted, his pale green eyes widened, and the air between them grew heavy with an entirely different sort of pressure. “Me? Well, uh, just tell me what you need, I’ll make it happen. Whatever you want.”

  “Great.” She beamed. “Leave. You’re fired.”

  Chapter 2

  Oliver glared at Cappy Don. It was one thing to check in with the boss. It was something else for the boss to show up at dinner, help himself to the take-out, and proceed to aid in bending the hell out of a bottle of whiskey. But that wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was rehashing his grave miscalculation.

  “I did what you said, Cap. I waltzed back in the next morning like I owned the place, much to Ms. Bing’s consternation. I don’t know why, but she dislikes me on principle. And in the two weeks since, she’s established an iron fist of rule and eliminated nearly every ounce of wiggle room I had with Roscoe.” Oliver’s frustration bubbled up another layer at Cappy Don’s amused chuckle. “This is bad. I can’t get finished with one task before she sends me off on another. I’m so busy, I haven’t had time to get into Merit’s office, which I was ready to do right before Roscoe pulled his shit on the receptionist.”

  Oliver paused to breathe and run a hand over his face. Working for once was taking a real toll on his energy level. He’d doubled his coffee intake. “I’m terrified to make a wrong move. Kay cans me once, I come back, that’s cute. It won’t be cute if she fires me again.”

  “I handled the situation,” the captain said without inflection. Cappy Don tossed back the amber liquid swirling in the bottom of Oliver’s one and only tumbler. “That’s what matters. Test your boundaries a little, Pierce. You’re supposed to be the fiddler, not the fiddle. She fires you again, you’re back the next morning. It’s all a big joke if you play it right. And you have to play it right. This is the only chance we’re gonna get to do things this way.”

  “Or Kay thinks I’m not taking her seriously and it catches Merit’s attention. Mr. Arnell is the creative genius, but Merit’s the one with her fingers in all the pies. Her fingers go into my pie, I’m cooked. She likes me, but she’s not going to take my side over her new head designer’s, especially since Kay has turned out to be the dream Roscoe never could live up to. False résumé or not, Kay’s good at the job. Scary good.”

  Kay Bing was scary everything. Scary sharp, scary serious, and scary attractive, which only creeped him out at first. Once he’d gotten over her height, it was hard not to notice the deliberately female body making up every inch. He took a healthy swig of whiskey, served up in a coffee mug, and grimaced. He was usually a beer man, but he’d had a rough two weeks. His ego had taken a bruising. Screw the investigation, his man parts were hurting. “You tried to warn me, but you were wrong about some stuff, too. Kay didn’t suffer doing time with Neve Harper. She’d been busy taking notes. She smiled, Cap. Big, happy smile on her face as she fired me. Completely unapologetic.”

  He’d seen it in her eyes, too, that flawless, effortless command. Her appearance hadn’t mattered a lick when she’d given him that dazzling smile and knocked him on his ass in the same breath.

  Except, of course, for in those brief seconds when their eyes had met, and something fiery had crackled to life between them. Kay Bing was a pair of stilettos and some hotrod red lipstick away from being a bombshell. Even the boyish cut of her buttery blond hair only made her features stand out starkly, with nothing to hide her narrow nose, lips tha
t pursed to a perfect bud, and fathomless glare that gave nothing away.

  And those indiscernible eyes. They were still a mystery. Blue one day, green the next, a variant of everything from the color of her blouse to her mood. It hardly mattered. What mattered was they had smoldered when she’d looked at him that day, and where there was smoke, there was fire. Beyond that fire? Ice. Kay had ice in her spine and wasn’t afraid to use it.

  “Maybe.” Cappy Don’s voice slashed through the moment like a whip. “But you can’t afford to let this get personal. You’re taking things with Kay pretty personal.”

  The old man was right. “A little, yeah. It’s not often I meet someone I can’t charm. She cut me down so swiftly at my first attempt, I’m trigger shy now.”

  Cappy Don tilted his head and narrowed his eyes into a calculating gleam. “Ya know, there’s another way to handle this. We don’t have the time for a full vet, and you can’t fast-track yourself into Kay’s good graces with a few dirty jokes and a bar tab, the way you did Roscoe. We’re gonna have to take some chances. Leave her a clue.”

  Oliver leaned forward. “A clue?” he repeated, making no effort to hide the dubiousness dripping from the suggestion.

  “Yeah.” The captain flipped a large, weathered hand as if swatting away a fly, his lips turned down. “A clue. An open file on her computer, a note. Assuming she’s ignorant of Free Leaf’s scheme, leave something that’ll make her say ‘hmm.’ If she’s in on it, she’ll get nervous. If she’s clean and as headstrong as you say, she’ll want to look into it further. I’m not saying give yourself away. She doesn’t have to know who’s behind these little gifts. For now, focus on getting a read on her reaction.”

  “And then what?” Oliver was indignant. Cap had lost his damn mind. “Make her my partner? Or just wantonly throw out I’m investigating undercover, now quit giving me so much shit to do so I can focus on getting into the fifth-floor offices in search of evidence?”