A Billion Little Clues (12 page)

Did he want me to make the first move? Maybe he was afraid that I saw the other night as just a one-time thing, or that I thought that, now that we worked together, we shouldn't be fraternizing like this. If that was the case, he was wildly overestimating my business morals. Sometimes, when I needed extra paper or sticky notes at home, I didn't even hesitate in taking them from the office. If I was willing to commit heists like that, what's the harm in a little canoodling with the boss? Or, in this case, more like my boss's boss's boss's boss?

Eh, screw it. I was going to do it.

I wasn't sure where that thought came from. Was my body rebelling against my brain, tired of it waffling on all the fun decisions in life? I had no idea. But before I could manage to seize back control, I was leaning forward, into the man in front of me, rising up on my tiptoes to meet his lips with my own.

And then we kissed.

Again.

And let me tell you, my memories of the first time didn't do the thing justice! He was the perfect height to kiss me back, used the perfect amount of soft pressure back against my lips, the perfect amount of tongue sliding out to caress mine. Oh god. He was totally perfect.

My own hands were on him now, pulling at that ridiculous tight shirt he was wearing. Men weren't even supposed to have things like this! Especially not on someone with as chiseled a figure as Roman. It was probably illegal, like me walking around topless. A distraction in the workplace, that's what it is.

It really ought to come off.

I pulled up, but oh man, it was so tight on him! Eventually, Roman had to momentarily break away from the kiss, letting go of me so that he could tug the stupid article of clothing up over his head. With his help, it slid off, and I saw his naked chest in the light of his office.

"Oh my god," I couldn't help gasping. He looked like a damn action figure! I had to reach out and touch his perfectly formed abs, just to convince myself that they weren't some sort of optical illusion. But no, I could feel every ridge beneath my fingertips, the muscles shifting and tightening slightly as I ran my fingers over them. He looked like he ought to be some sort of male fitness model, on the cover of a gas station magazine!

I just want to touch him all day. To lie there with him, stroking him, exploring every curve and muscle. Maybe we can do so on one of these couches on the edges of his office. They seem wide enough.

Roman isn't being lazy, either. Now that he's got his shirt off, he seems to be intent on doing the same thing to my blouse. I can feel his fingers digging in, wriggling as they work their way into all sorts of interesting new places. I'm suddenly wishing that my outfit wasn't quite so tight, so that he would have better access.

Our lips found each other's again, and kissing round two began. This time, it was much clearer what both of us were thinking about, and after a second, Roman's mouth slid down to my neck. He was so forceful! And now his hands were starting to work their way inside of my skirt...

Suddenly, I felt the man freeze. Every single muscle in his body went rigid, and those lovely questing fingers halted their advances. He was looking over my shoulder at something. What was it?

I turned, and stifled a squeak of horrified surprise. Eleanor was standing there in the doorway of Roman's office, one hand still raised up to knock on the open door. We were right in the middle of the room. Roman's shirt was in a crumpled pile on the floor, and my blouse was a mess, hanging off of one shoulder. There was no denying what we were up to.

"Message for you," Eleanor finally commented softly, breaking the silence. "From the police. I told them you were unavailable to speak, but they said to get it to you as soon as possible."

The woman wasn't even upset or embarrassed at what she was seeing! In amid my considerable lusty desire, I suddenly felt a spike of white-hot anger. This woman was intentionally ruining things, and she knew it! I could see the little smirk in the corner of her mouth. She probably had been waiting to interrupt this!

Unfortunately, her arrival seemed to have had the desired effect of throwing a bucket of cold water over us. Roman was very cool about the whole thing, stepping back and nodding politely to Eleanor as though he wasn't half-naked and feeling up his newest personal assistant in the middle of his office, but I knew that my blush had doubled in intensity. This was so embarrassing.

Eleanor continued to stand in the doorway, her eyes cooly running over us. "Thank you, Eleanor," Roman finally said to her, the hint of his tone impossible to miss. "That is all we need for now."

Finally, finally the insufferable woman turned and left! But even with her gone, the energy of the room just wasn't the same. And as Roman bent down to pick up his shirt from the floor, I knew that he wasn't about to keep on dropping kisses down into my top as he peeled it from my ready and waiting body.

Instead, as the man turned to me, he seemed to be once again thinking with his upper brain, considering our next steps. "The police," he mused. "That probably isn't good news."

"Maybe they want to clear you?" I suggested hopefully. "Or maybe they're trying to find out who else could be a suspect, just like I was. All those women were gossiping about who's going to take your job next, and with you out of the way, well, wouldn't that make it easier for whoever actually did this?"

Roman gazed back at me for a moment, as he pulled his shirt back on, but then straightened up a little more. "Actually, though," he spoke up a moment later, "you do bring up a good idea."

Of course I did! I just didn't know what idea that had been, exactly. "What's that?" I ventured cautiously.

"The idea of motive!" Roman returned. He had turned, now, and ducked back behind his desk. He was bent over at his computer, typing away.

After a minute, he looked up and saw my blank expression. "I've been thinking of who else would have wanted Silvers to be dead, but perhaps I've been going about it all wrong!" he explained, not pausing in his typing. "Right now, I'm the prime suspect, which means that I'm being blamed. If we can figure out who would want to see me gone, we might have a way to find the real killer!"

That was what I had figured out! And I had realized that - it just hadn't been put together so clearly before. But Roman had seen the exact flow of my thought process and had distilled it down into a coherent idea. This must be why he was paid the big bucks. Smart as well as handsome. And I could still see his muscles bulging beneath that thin shirt he still wore...

My daydreaming was cut short when Roman straightened up, smiling at me. "I have another mission for you," he informed me.

Smiling, I lifted up my hand and saluted. It wasn't until the edge of my palm had thunked against my forehead that I realized how ridiculous I must look. Why was I acting like such an idiot? But the billionaire behind his desk didn't seem to notice. "What do you want me to do?" I asked quickly to cover up my little slip.

Roman turned his head, looking across his office at a small black box on a side shelf. A moment later, it whirred to life, spitting out a sheet of paper. "This is the address of Zinn's office," he told me, striding across the office to snatch the sheet of paper out of the printer's out tray. "I want you to go talk to him and see if he might know who would have a grudge against me."

Zinn. The name was familiar - I knew that I had heard it before, but I couldn't remember exactly why. Wasn't that the lawyer that had been at the party? "Zinn?" I repeated back in a questioning tone.

"Eddie Zinner," Roman elaborated. "Everyone just calls him Zinn, though - it's even on his ads. He's one of the top business and personal lawyers in the city, and I retain him as my private counsel. He's got all the files on any complaints lodged against me, and should be able to help you out."

I looked down at the paper being offered to me. The text looked like a short letter, and I could see the address of the law firm printed at the top. Zinner, Charleston and Howe was the name of the law firm to which I was headed.

"Will this be enough to get me in?" I asked, holding up the paper.

"Not quite yet." Roman reached out and took it from me. I felt his hand brush against mine as he retrieved it from my grasp. He set the paper down on the desk, pulled a pen from a drawer, and signed with a flourish. I had to stifle a giggle at the exaggerated gesture.

"There you go," he finished, passing the paper back to me. "Just show it to the receptionist, and she should show you straight up to Zinn's office."

I smiled back at the man as I accepted the signed letter from him. "You know, I could get kind of used to this," I said with a grin. "Getting into the executive dining room, having everyone respect me just because I work for you - it's so different!"

"Do I have to watch out for you?" Roman retorted with a raised eyebrow. "Now that you've gotten a taste of power, are you going to come gunning for my executive position?"

"Maybe just a position directly under you," I told him, the words falling out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying.

I froze as my latest sentence finally made its way up to my ears. Oh god. Did I just really say that to him? I couldn't believe that I'd just said that. I could already feel a blush roaring up through my cheeks, heating them up until they practically glowed red.

And this little comment had most obviously not gone over the billionaire's head, either. He still had his mouth open to respond, but seemed to have gotten stuck. And even worse, his eyes were now rolling over me! I just knew that he was imagining this in his head, thinking about exactly what it sounded like I wanted to do to him. This was so embarrassing!

Of course, just because it was embarrassing didn't mean that it wasn't true. Not that I wanted to just leap across Roman's desk and tackle him to the ground, of course! Well, maybe even that wasn't true. But if our most recent kiss was any indication, the feeling was considerably mutual.

Focus, Melinda, I told myself. Let's take this in stride. Get the billionaire proved innocent first, and then hop aboard him and ride him like in your wildest fantasies. A good plan.

"Okay, well, I better get headed over to this office before it's the end of the day, huh?" I babbled as I backed away, holding the signed letter. "I'll talk to you later! Hopefully with good news! Maybe over dinner? Just kidding!"

Oh god, I was coming apart. Get out of there, now!

I turned and bolted out of the office, not wanting to look back and see what might be on Roman's face. Eleanor smirked at me as I passed her, but I shot back such a fierce glare that her expression withered on her face.

Just get through this, I kept on telling myself. Get to this lawyer's office, talk to Zinn. Prove that Roman didn't commit this murder. And then, only once that's done, can I let myself start thinking about what might come afterwards.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

As I headed over to the address of the letter Roman had given me, I tried my hardest to get my scattered thoughts in order. The plan, Melinda! I kept on repeating inside my head. Just stick to the plan!

Trouble was, it was very hard to choose thoughts of motive and murder over thoughts of Roman, totally naked and maybe with some light oil rubbed over his muscles, doing naughty things to me. I could see him standing over me, maybe in some romantic setting with candles and dim red lights, peeling off my clothes as he kissed me. I could see him helping me to strip off his own clothes, until we were both naked. And then he'd slowly sink down, tracing a line of kisses down my body, until his head ended between my legs, that tongue of his flicking out so delicately to touch on all those most intimate places...

I realized that, as I envisioned this, my own legs were twisting together, and I had let a couple little moans slip out of my mouth! The other passengers on the bus hadn't missed this fact, either. And most of them were staring at me, with varying looks of disgust and lecherous desire.

Oh god. This wasn't going well at all.

Fortunately, the shame lasted long enough for me to hear the bus driver call out my stop. I jumped up, nearly falling over with my haste to escape from this situation, and yanked on the stop cord. We skidded up to the bus stop, and I hastily made my exit.

The law offices of Zinner, Charleston, and Howe were on the top floor of a three-story brick building that looked as if it had been around for the last hundred years and would easily survive a hundred more. Even the ivy growing along the corners of the building, clinging to the bricks, looked respectable. And the whole place was immaculately clean, as if a horde of invisible janitors had just swept past the place. This was definitely a law firm exclusively for the rich.

And on the inside of the building, that feeling only grew stronger. The carpet was thick enough beneath my feet to totally muffle my footsteps, and the ceiling was that hammered brass sort of inlay where it looks like the whole thing has been carved out by some ridiculously talented sculptor. It really all came together well to project the message that I did not have enough money to even be standing here.