A Billion Little Clues (9 page)

"Can I help you?" she asked, as if the very idea of helping me with anything was the most arduous concept in the entire world.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond for a second. "Um, I was called up here?" I asked, hating how hesitant my voice sounded. I knew that I didn't belong up here, in this world of massive executive offices with their floor-to-ceiling glass windows instead of real walls! Weren't they afraid of the glass breaking, of falling out and dropping all the way down to the tiny street below?

The woman behind the receptionist's desk just blinked at me, a single, very slow blink of her astoundingly thick eyelashes. I couldn't help sweeping my eyes over her, feeling more and more ashamed of myself with every inch I covered. She looked like a damn model! My arms were thicker than her thighs! And yet she still somehow had just as much cleavage as me - and her very stylish blouse didn't have any coffee stains marring it.

After a few seconds of silence, I remembered the green sticky note. "I got this," I tried, holding the sticky note up.

The woman darted forward, faster than I believed possible, and snatched the green slip of paper from my fingers. She held it up to her face, glaring down at it, and then passed it back. "You're Melinda," she said, her tone sounding as if she doubted I could even manage to do this much.

I nodded. "Yes."

With a long sigh, the woman rose up from her seat, stepping out from behind the desk. "Follow me," she murmured to me, and then stalked off down the hallway between the giant glass offices without looking back to see if I was following.

I was, feeling worse about myself by the second. She even walked like a runway model! And her skirt was tight enough to reveal that there was most definitely not anything underneath. Was I going to have to dress this way for work? I would very quickly run out of flattering outfits. I'd have to start paying Rachel for all the things I borrowed from her.

The woman reached the office at the end of the corridor and opened up the glass door, rapping her knuckles lightly against it as she did so. "Mister Wayland, your nine o'clock is here," she called in.

Still standing just outside the office, I froze. Wayland? As in Roman Wayland? As in the possible murderer that I had kissed last night and had been unable to keep out of my head ever since?

Yes, it was. I forced my feet to shuffle forward through the doorway, and saw him as he rose up from behind a massive glass-topped (seriously, did we own a division that just made glass?) desk. For a moment, my heart leapt up into my throat.

When I had met him out on the terrace, it had been quite dark, and I had only dimly been able to make out his features. Now, in the balanced lighting of his office, I could scrutinize him more closely. And he was no less impressive.

Tall. I remembered that from last night. And if this suit wasn't the same one as last night, it could have been an identical copy. It was tight around his legs, showing off his sturdy but not oversized calves and thighs, and fanning out to cover his broad shoulders. His hair was swept back, a deep chestnut brown in color, but still slightly mussy. He must not even realize when he ran his hands through it, I thought faintly to myself.

His face... he had the same strong features that I remembered seeing outlined by shadows. There was a fairly deep tan on his face, as if he had spent a good amount of time hiking in the brush. Briefly, I imagined him out in a jungle somewhere, his bare arms exposed up to the shoulder, his muscles shifting as he hefted a machete, grinning with those broad white teeth as he discovered a long-lost species of something. His jawline and cheekbones looked as though they'd been chiseled out of a block of granite. The only thing ruining him was a slight frown that he currently wore across his face. It pulled his eyebrows together a little and made him look as if he was about to bite through a piece of steel.

"Thank you, Eleanor," he said as he stood up, looking past me at the receptionist. "Give me some time with Melinda, please."

The receptionist let out another little snort, so soft that only I could hear it, but she turned on her heel and stalked back towards her desk. I stared after her for a moment, my emotions torn between envy and disdain. Eleanor? She even had the name of a model! Some people were just born with all the advantages.

But in a few seconds, Eleanor had disappeared out of sight, and the door had swung shut. I was alone now. It was just Roman and me, in his massive office. His gaze had shifted over to me, and I felt as though I was on a stage with a spotlight blasting out at me. What in the world was I supposed to do?

Roman had stepped forward, around his desk, to stand on the same side as me. He hadn't come any further forward, however, and I hesitantly took a step towards him. I had no idea what I was doing here!

"Melinda," Roman greeted me, and I nodded. I couldn't even get any clue from his voice. He didn't sound angry, but there was still that little hint of a frown dancing about on his face. He gestured to one of two chairs sitting in front of his desk. "Would you mind taking a seat? I have a few things to discuss."

Discuss. I knew it. That was executive-speak for getting fired. He had just called me up here to let me down easy. Although why hadn't he just delegated this to HR? In any case, I stepped forward and sat down in one of the chairs, my purse on my lap and holding my cup of coffee in both hands on top of my purse.

For just a moment, Roman smiled down at me, the frown vanishing from his face. "Relax, would you?" he said, his tone suddenly sounding much less formal. "You aren't in trouble!"

Dammit, but that smile was strong! I couldn't help smiling back. "Sorry," I apologized. "I'm just kind of nervous."

With a sigh, Roman flopped down in the other chair in front of his desk, turning it a bit so that it faced me. "You're nervous?" he repeated. One of his hands rose up to rub at his temple, further mussing up his hair. "You're not the one who's being accused of committing murder!"

I couldn't hold back a gasp at this. Roman was still being accused? But he was free! I had assumed that the police must have dropped the charges, or else how would he be out of prison?

"I'm out on bail," he said after a second, his eyes still on my face, and I felt myself blush a little. Were my thoughts this easy to read? I hoped not all of them! "And it wasn't cheap, either. Thank goodness for Zinn. Whatever his personal attitude, his skill in law is worth its weight in gold."

A moment later, Roman's eyes returned to me. "But that's the reason that I've called you here," he said, leaning forward and staring into my eyes intently. "I need your help."

There were a lot of thoughts rushing through my head. The first thought, one that had been nagging at me ever since I sat down, was that these seats Roman had were extraordinarily uncomfortable. I felt as though I was sitting in an alligator's jaws as it attempted to swallow me. I could feel my ass slowly sliding back into the crack of the chair, while metal rods in the back burrowed deep into my spine. How in the world was anyone supposed to sit in a seat like this for any length of time without needing to see a chiropractor afterwards?

The second thought in my mind, much more recent but also much more powerful, was how sexy the man in front of me looked as he leaned in towards me. My scumbag brain wouldn't stop replaying the kiss that we had shared the night previously, how he had pulled me in to press against his body. I remembered how his hands had slid all over me, how they had expertly managed to burrow in beneath my little dress and find all the right points to transform me into a mindless bundle of desire. I wanted him to do that again, only this time for us not to be interrupted by someone getting murdered.

Wait a minute.

That was right, wasn't it? We had been running inside the mansion to find a private place where we could finish ripping off each other's clothes, when we had been interrupted by a scream. The scream of Geoffrey getting murdered! And then Roman had turned and run off to go see what had happened.

But if Roman had been with me when Geoffrey started screaming, he couldn't have been the one to commit the murder!

My eyes must have widened as I put these pieces together inside my head. And the man sitting in front of me, watching me so intently, couldn't have missed that sign. "Exactly," he said, once again showing off his uncanny ability to read my brain. "You know that I'm innocent!"

#

"I do," I agreed, still a little stunned by the realization. This insight was almost immediately followed by another on its heels, one which slipped out of my mouth. "But if I know you're innocent, why didn't you just tell the police that you were with me?"

Roman's eyes briefly broke away from me, and he reached up to run his fingers through his hair again. I felt a slight urge to reach forward and smooth his hair back down, to fix the mussed look he was inadvertently causing. "Because I can't let it get out what we were doing," he admitted.

What we were doing... he meant the kiss! And then, I suppose, also the dash inside to go find a place to do a lot more than just kiss. At the thought, I felt color creeping up into my cheeks, and probably flushing across my chest as well.

I didn't have to say anything. "That's the thing," Roman nodded, speaking as though my innermost thoughts were being broadcast out loud. "I can't let it get out that we were committing any sort of unprofessional act, or else I'll have a major scandal on my hands here."

"More of a scandal than getting sent to jail for murder?" The words slipped out of me.

Instead of being upset, however, the man just chuckled. "Pretty close," he replied in a light-hearted tone. But then his face grew serious again, and he leaned forward. His hands reached out and clasped mine, wrapping around the backs of my palms and pressing my fingers up against the coffee cup in my grasp. "But I know that I'm not the murderer - which means that the murderer had to be someone else at that party! Someone with a reason to want to kill Geoffrey. And I need your help to find the real killer."

I could feel his heart beating through his hands as they pressed against mine. When my eyes slowly crept up to his face, I could see naked need on his features. He really did need my help! But was there something else in his eyes? A spark of something?

For just an instant, his eyes dropped down to my lips, and then flicked back up. There was! He wanted to kiss me, I realized with a shock - at least as badly as I wanted to do the same to him!

"Yes." The word was so quiet, I wasn't even sure I had spoken it out loud.

"Yes?" Roman repeated it back to me, his eyes still on me. God, I could get lost in them forever. "Yes? You're willing to help?"

I nodded, just a tiny bit. "Yes. I'll help."

The man moved in a blur. I felt my coffee cup snatched from my hands, and he set it down on top of his desk. And then, an instant later, he was standing, pulling me up out of my chair and into a hug!

"Thank you," he whispered into my ear as he held me close. "Without you, I'm not sure how I'd be able to prove my innocence."

"Of course," I replied, not quite sure what to do. He was very warm. And he was holding me very closely...

The hug went on just a fraction of a second too long, switching over from professional into something that was definitely not so at all. Roman lessened his grip on me, but he didn't completely release, and I pulled back until I was once again gazing up at him. I could feel his hands on my back, their heat soaking in through my blouse into my hips. This time, my eyes were the ones to flit to his lips. They were there, slightly open, just begging for a kiss...

But alas, it wasn't to be! With a grunt of what must have been his libido fighting against him, Roman finally released me, stepping back. "Great," he said, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Then from now on, you're my personal assistant - you report only to me, and no one else has any authority over you. I'll get you a list of everyone who was at the party, and you can go talk to them and see how they felt about Geoffrey without arousing suspicion. I'll spread the word that you're helping me plan the revised corporate chain to rebalance after his passing, so that can be your cover."

"Great, sounds great," I said faintly. I was still thinking of this man pressed against me. A tiny little part of my brain was doing cartwheels inside my head. He likes me! it was screaming out in amazement. He really likes me!

Roman raised one hand to point towards the door of his office. "Go out and talk to Eleanor," he said, not looking directly up at me. "She'll have the list ready for you. We'll open up an office on this floor for you to use as your own."

That was clearly a dismissal. I picked up my coffee and left the office, heading back towards the receptionist slash model's front desk. My mind was already starting to turn over my new assignment. Had I bitten off more than I could chew?

But as I left Roman's office, I swore that I could feel his eyes running up and down my backside in a very unprofessional manner.