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“Great. I’ll head up to the second floor and go through that trunk again. See if I can find another good disguise.” She was halfway up the stairs, her eyes a bit too bright and her smile a bit too wide for his liking. There was something he was missing in all this, but his head was spinning so fast right now, Heath didn’t know which end was up. Aileen seemed to have that effect on him. “If I find something for you, I’ll let you know.”
Then she was gone and he was alone, all the bluster vanishing along with her.
He’d always prided himself on having a clear head and doing well under high-pressure situations but goddamn if he didn’t feel like a tornado had just hit him. Even worse, he didn’t like the look Aileen had had as she’d hightailed it upstairs. It was almost like she was manically trying to avoid him all of a sudden. Ever since he’d brought up last night…
Well, shit.
Seemed he wasn’t the only one with mixed feelings about it. Worse, what if she actually had thought it was something more between them and then played it off as nothing to protect herself? He didn’t want to get involved with Murphy’s little sister. That had disaster written all over it. But he didn’t want her to get hurt either. He liked her. A lot, way more than was wise, truth be told. If circumstances were different and he wasn’t him and she wasn’t her, then maybe they might’ve had a real shot at more. But things were the way they were and it was difficult.
Heath rinsed
out his own cup then placed them both in the dishwasher before heading over to his laptop. Usually he and the guys would have a face-to-face pow-wow each morning, but with him staying at the brownstone and it being so close to the holidays, they’d decided to do everything remotely.
He took a seat at the desk and fired up his computer, hoping time with his buds would help him get his head back on straight, help relieve the strange pang of yearning that had settled in his chest since the wee hours of that morning when he’d opened his eyes and seen Aileen cuddled up beside him, her face nuzzled in his neck and her hand over his heart. For that one brief moment, all had been right with his universe and he’d wanted to hold those precious seconds tight and never let them go.
And that, more than anything, was the biggest problem of them all.
7
“Why are we stopping here?” Aileen asked as they stopped outside what looked like a renovated warehouse. They’d just left the Meridian Hotel and her nose still itched from the smell of gingerbread and the weight of disappointment settled heavy in her belly. Senator Lawrence had made his scheduled stop, but no matter what angle she’d tried, they’d been unable to get close. It was frustrating. She tossed the long blond ponytail of her wig over her shoulder and squinted at the shiny brass plaque set into the granite pillar beside them. “BrightStart Media? What’s that?”
“C’mon.” Heath opened the door and held it for her. “Let’s go inside for a minute.”
“Um, okay.” She followed him into the lobby, ignoring the curious stares of the employees bustling to and fro. They weren’t exactly dressed to visit a business. Besides her blond wig, Aileen had worn a rather dumpy pair of mom jeans and a garish Nordic pattern sweater with dancing elves and snowflakes in repeating rows of blue and white. It was all she could find in the trunk upstairs that even remotely fit her. Heath had worn another lumberjack-meets-GQ looking ensemble—faded jeans, oversized plaid work shirt, wool jacket and knit skull cap—and still managed to look distractingly hot. It wasn’t fair for a man to be that handsome and rich, yet so damned likeable too.
Christmas decorations covered nearly every visible surface in the interior and she realized that the people milling around weren’t working, they were having a holiday party. Bing Crosby’s dulcet tones drifted over the speaker system, reminiscing about a long ago snowy Christmas. The smell of hot hors d’oeuvres drifted through the air, and there must’ve been a karaoke machine set up somewhere because a decidedly off-key female voice was crooning along with Bing. Either that or someone was skinning a cat.
“Maybe we should go,” Aileen whispered. “Looks like this is a private affair.”
“It is, but we’re invited.” Heath gave her a smile and a wink. “Hungry?”
Aileen frowned. “What do you mean we’re invited?”
Her mind whirred through the information she knew about Heath and his wealthy family through her research for the paper. The Goldwins had made their initial fortune in oil and railroads, only to lose most of their money during the Great Depression. Heath’s father had remade a good portion of their wealth through smart investments, but Heath wanted to blaze his own trail. Aileen’s paper had featured him in their special Thirty under Thirty a few years back because of entrepreneurial spirit in starting his own tech company…
She stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms. “You own this company, don’t you?”
Heath glanced back at her over his shoulder. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Goldwin!” several people said to Heath as they passed by.
“And a Happy New Year to you as well,” Heath responded before focusing on Aileen again. “I just have a few last-minute things to finish up here before we go on holiday break.”
“Holiday break?” She worked for the media. They never shut down for any reason.
“Yeah. BrightStart closes starting at three p.m. today and won’t reopen until after New Year’s. Just another way I show my appreciation to my faithful employees. They work hard for it the rest of the year and deserve to spend time with their families.”
“Oh.” Aileen adjust the flouncy red beret on her head. She’d been so busy with hunting down Senator Lawrence and digging up dirt on him, it hadn’t occurred to her that today was Christmas Eve. They reached the buffet table set up with all sorts of delicious smelling snacks—barbeque pot stickers, deep fried won tons, dim sum, egg rolls, crab Rangoon—and at Heath’s invitation, Aileen helped herself. Being the owner had its benefits, apparently. Heath served them up each a portion of cherry-red punch in a paper cup then they made their way back toward his office in the far corner. The walls were clear glass, so they could still see out into the main work area and observe the festivities. Once she was settled, Aileen couldn’t help asking more questions. She was a reporter after all. It was her curiosity that made her good at her job. “What sorts of things do you still have to do?” She glanced out at the revelers again and grinned. “Doesn’t look like you’ll get a lot out them now.”
“Good. I want them to enjoy themselves,” he said around a bite of food. “Besides, I don’t need them for this. I just need to finalize the bonuses I’m sending out this year with the bank before they close at five. They’ll handle making direct deposits into all my employees’ accounts.”
“Wow. Aren’t you the generous boss?” Aileen tore a hunk of sweet, savory meat from one of her pot sticker skewers with her teeth. “At the newspaper we’re lucky not to get a pink slip around the holidays, let alone a bonus.”
“Things not going well?” Heath took a drink of his punch, watching her over the rim. “I know sales of printed publications are down across the board, but I figured an old stalwart like The Globe would still have sufficient subscribers.”
She shrugged. “They’re really pushing us to go all digital these days to save costs and be able to compete with all the online sites. That’s why this Senator Lawrence story is so important to me. If I can break it, then that will help ensure my job security for a while.” She finished her pot sticker and set the wooden skewer aside. “And it will help the MacLeans too. I can’t let them be hurt by this. They don’t deserve that after everything they’ve done for me.”
Heath opened his mouth to say more, then stopped, his gaze shifting to the office door behind her. Aileen figured it was one of the party guests, only to turn and find Murphy’s other friend, Daveed, standing there instead. Well, crap. There went her undercover operation.
