Champagne Cravings (12 page)

Had I simply performed an electronic search of employee
emails, as I typically did when on a case and had also considered doing this
time, I wouldn’t have come up with the clues to the puzzle. They were all in
code. Little riddles that had to be deciphered, but which revealed the campaign
secrets without blatantly saying the obvious or mentioning Biel by name. I’d
have missed this if I hadn’t looked at the transcripts in hard copy.

My next course of action was to find out who the recipient
of the information was, because it didn’t match the email address of the
blogger, which I’d unearthed immediately following my first conversation with
Mav. Most likely, it was merely an alternate email meant to protect the
blogger, should anyone catch onto the fact an Elan employee was leaking
information to her.

Pleased with myself, I packed up the evidence in my laptop
bag for my trip to Elan in the morning. Then I headed out, having agreed to
meet Mike at the Italian restaurant overlooking Central Park that we both
loved. I was running late, but he didn’t seem to mind. He smiled sexily at me
as I slid into the chair opposite him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I managed to say, though he
stole my breath.

He’d ordered a bottle of Chianti for us and had poured me a
glass. “I figured you were working. I was about to call, but then I got
distracted by the pictures you sent.”

Showing me the screen of his iPhone, he said, “I think this
one’s my favorite.”

I really did look thrilled to the core of my being. I told
him, “You’re going to fall out of your chair when I tell you who took those
photos.”

“If you say Biel McKinley, I’m going to have to punch her in
the face.”

I laughed. “As if you would.”

“So the two of you are best buds now?”

“Not
best
,” I said with a pointed look. “Only one
person fits into that category.”

“Nice save,” he told me with a wink. “I’m still jealous.”

“No, you’re not.” I sipped my wine, then added, “Besides,
she’s got it bad for Piper. And this’ll surprise you, but I’m learning more
about what’s happening between you and I from the two of them. Did you order?”

He nodded. “Pasta bolognese for you, pizza for me.”

“Yum.”

“I told Maria to wait to put in the ticket until you arrived.”

She was our favorite server, and co-owner of the place. I
experienced that feeling of familiarity again over Mike’s attention to details.
He even picked the table I preferred, right in front of the window so we could
people-watch. That was generally something I enjoyed, but tonight I literally
only had eyes for the super-hunk in front of me.

After a long sip from his glass, he asked, “So what did you
mean about learning things from Biel and Piper?”

“As it turns out,” I told him, “I have all these feelings
trapped inside me that I’m trying to free.”

He chuckled. “There’s a newsflash.”

“Hey,” I mockingly chastised, “just because you can so
easily speak your mind doesn’t mean others can. It doesn’t come naturally to
me, we both know that. But I’m trying.”

His look softened. “I can see that. And I appreciate it.”

I would have done that old-fashioned heroine swooning thing
again had Maria not suddenly appeared with a basket of bread and a small plate
of olive oil with balsamic vinegar pooling in the center of it.

Biel and I had drank more wine and champagne than we’d eaten
hors d’oeuvres, so my stomach growled at the delicious scent wafting from the
sourdough bread wrapped in a red-checkered linen napkin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Maria,” I told our server.

With a smile, she said, “You two have become our best
customers. My husband and I are grateful you’re in here a few times a week.”

“Best Italian food in New York,” Mike said. We’d know. We’d
tried at least two dozen places before we’d found this gem. One would be
surprised at how some Italian restaurants in the city served food that tasted
as though it came from a can you’d pick up at the corner market.

Maria ducked into the kitchen. Her husband Anthony was the
head chef. They’d opened the joint a year ago, for which Mike and I were
grateful.

I dug into the bread as he said, “So you spent the afternoon
with Biel McKinley and her girlfriend?”

“No, Piper ran off to Hollywood for a makeup gig after she
and Biel had an argument the other night. I wanted to hang out with Biel
because, aside from really liking her, I have a lot of respect for how she
approaches things. It’s enlightening, not jaded.”

His brow furrowed. “You think you’re jaded?”

“For sure,” I blurted out, a few crumbs flying from my
mouth. “Sorry about that.” I brushed them from the white linen tablecloth. “But
I’d really prefer not to be. And, I discovered I wasn’t as torn up over Chase
and Brandon as I was pissed off they’d jerked me around. Also, I probably
wouldn’t have been so angry about the breakups if I hadn’t convinced myself I
could change them. That was dumb.”

He eyed me curiously, then said, “But maybe you
could
have changed them. If they’d given you the chance.”

Maria returned with our food. I toyed with my mouthwatering
penne pasta, tossed in the richest, zestiest bolognese sauce known to mankind,
as I considered what he’d said. Mike pulled a fragrant slice of
meat-and-veggie-laden pizza oozing mozzarella and took a bite, not minding the
silence that ensued because he was a chowhound. He’d carry on a conversation
once the meal was served, but only if he had to. This gave me time to process
what he’d said.

Had he just told me he’d changed his womanizing ways because
I’d allowed him into my life and my apartment over the past three years? Yes, I’d
stood my ground all that time by not having sex with him and that had caused us
to get to know each other on a personal level that didn’t involve getting
naked. I was likely the first woman he’d had that sort of connection with. Was
that why he’d recently come around and had stopped screwing everything in a
skirt a couple of months ago?

Had he learned along the way the things I’d started to
unravel inside myself today? That what was between us was much more than
sizzling chemistry? Was that why he hadn’t fucked me when I’d given him the
green light?

Setting aside my fork, I reached for my wine and took a big
gulp.

Mike had polished off his first slice of pie and was moving
in on the second one, but stopped, his hand in midair. “What’s wrong?” he
asked.

The man knew
all
of my expressions, I suddenly
realized. Or perhaps I’d known that all along and had conveniently overlooked
it.

Leaning toward him so I could lower my voice, I asked, “Why
haven’t we had sex?”

He laughed. “Exactly what did you and Biel talk about all
afternoon?”

“Answer my question.”

Pulling his hand back, he said, “If you think I’m not hot
for you, think again.”

“I’m pretty sure I get that.”

“Okay.”

“So, what gives?” I pressed.

Giving me a serious look, he told me, “Because you still
think of it as sex. Or fucking. I don’t. Not with you.”

I glanced around to see if anyone had heard him, but over
the din of the chatty patrons, the arias Maria liked to play for ambience and
the general kitchen noise, no one paid us any attention. Except for the women
who stole a peek at Mike every now and then. But I was used to that.

He challenged me further by saying, “I can tell you want to
believe in this. In
us
. I can see it in your eyes and I most definitely
saw it in those photos. But the one thing you can keep in your back pocket, the
one thing you can hold over me by holding back on, is making love. You want me
to fuck you, you said as much. I want intimacy. The kind where we gaze into
each other’s eyes as we move together. The kind where words aren’t even
necessary because our emotions are conveyed by the way we touch each other and
the way we respond to each other. You tried to have that with Chase and
Brandon, didn’t you?”

My mouth gaped. Once again, I looked around to see if we’d
finally gained an audience. Luckily, no.

Biel’s question came back to me in a flash. Not the one
about why I’d let Mike into my life when I’d believed he’d been cut from the
same cloth as Chase and Brandon when it came to screwing around. No, I thought
of the question she’d posed about how I’d feel if he never kissed me again. And
I realized I’d already reached an intimacy level with him I’d never before
achieved. But I wasn’t allowing that to transcend to sexual intimacy that went
far beyond the one-night stand or quick, meaningless romp I’d asked of him
Thursday night.

And as I further internally validated the point that I
hadn’t been devastated over losing my two boyfriends as much as I’d felt used
by them, I understood what Mike was getting at. Biel and I had both hit upon it
this afternoon.

When you offer a part of yourself to someone, you want them
to treat it appropriately. Affectionately. Kindly.

I pushed aside my dish, my appetite for food vanishing. My
appetite for the man sitting across the table from me, however, turned
ravenous—because he truly did get me.

“You constantly blow my mind,” I told him. “Yes, I wanted
that with Chase and Brandon. I wanted emotional intimacy as much as I wanted
sexual intimacy. But in the end, I was just a piece of ass.”

We stared at each other for several long, though not
uncomfortable, moments. Then Mike said, “
I’m
the bad guy tonight. I
shouldn’t have dated all those women while I was waiting for you to come
around. I didn’t treat them the way Chase and Brandon treated you, that’s true.
I was very upfront about my intentions and the fact I wasn’t interested in a
relationship. And I never cheated.” He shook his head as he added, “In the back
of my mind, I’d hoped one of them would replace you, so I wouldn’t continually
want you when I couldn’t have you. But that doesn’t excuse my womanizing.”

“That’s big of you to admit.”

With a shrug, he said, “How can I push you to come clean if
I don’t do it myself?”

I was at a loss for words. Like Biel, the man was astute.

Maria stopped at our table, a concerned look on her face.
“Did I get your orders wrong?”

“Absolutely not,” Mike said with his winning smile.
“Everything’s perfect.”

She wandered off and he flashed me his sexy grin.

Finally finding my voice, I said, “Interestingly enough, it
is perfect. Even though it’s still kind of messed up.”

He laughed. “If we can’t talk about this shit, what’s the
point of traveling this road together?”

“God, I’m good at picking friends. If only I’d kept my eyes
and options open before starting up with Chase and Brandon.”

“On the flipside,” Mike said as he dove back into the pizza.
“If you hadn’t moved in with Brandon, I wouldn’t have had an excuse to get you
out of that toxic environment and tell you about the apartment next to mine.”

“That did work out nicely, didn’t it?”

With a wink, he added, “The shower debacle did too.”

“Don’t gloat,” I teased. “This is not an
all’s well that
ends well
moment. I still have a few crossed wires in my head, remember?”

“But you’re making excellent progress.”

I hoped he was right.

Needing a reprieve from the intense subject matter, I said,
“By the way, I found Elan’s mole.”

“No kidding?” He looked impressed. “Damn, that was fast.”

“Sometimes you get lucky and select the correct haystack to
pick through right off the bat. This one happened to be email transcripts. I
almost skated over the evidence I needed by considering an electronic search,
but I rocked it old school and went with transcripts.” I smiled at him.

Mike said, “You are one kick-ass retro babe.”

While I reveled in the compliment, something else occurred
to me. “You know, reading the way the information was leaked, I felt absolutely
no sense of malice. Now I don’t know who Anne Dunley is—our mole—other than
what her email signature tells me. She’s the assistant to the VP of marketing
and her most recent transcripts show an out-of-office reply, indicating she’s
out for two weeks.”

“Clever timing.”

“Indeed. She knew the information about the supermassive
hush-hush campaign was set to go viral over the weekend and she clearly didn’t
want to be in the office come Monday, when everyone would have been in an
uproar because of it. Also, she started her vacay
last
week, according
to the timeframe she gave on her auto-response, and that means she might not
have known about the change of day in the product launch to Thursday. So she
couldn’t alert the blogger who was going to burst the campaign bubble to move
up her tell-all.”

“So what reason would this Anne person have for spilling the
beans on a secret campaign?” he asked around a bite of pizza.

I went back to work on my pasta and, after swallowing a few
hearty chunks of penne, told him, “That I don’t know. But I think a visit with
the VPs of human resources and marketing might reveal her motives. They’ll know
enough about her that we can likely piece together the puzzle.”

“What troubles you about the absence of malice?”

Damn, he really was perceptive. “My guess is, someone—maybe
the blogger, or a competitor
through
the blogger—paid Anne for the
information. That would make it a simple, cut-and-dried transaction. What
happened to Biel at the launch was anything but. In fact, that incident reeks
of malice. It felt more like a personal slight. As though someone wanted to get
even with Elan. Or Mav.”

“Mav?” His brow lifted.

“The CEO.”

“Ah, okay. You think this sabotage was pulled off by two
different entities, with two different MOs?”

I let this bounce around in my brain while I continued to
eat. Finally, my gut instinct assured me I was on the right track. “It was more
of a personal humiliation than an attempt to discredit the new makeup line. A
competitor wanting to damage Elan’s reputation is too easy and obvious a
conclusion to draw—and they’d know that, so it’d be too big a risk to take,
because if it backfired, they’d be seriously screwed. No, I think someone
wanted egg on Mav’s face. And they had the prime opportunity to use
Biel’s
face in order to make it happen.”