In Bed with the Bodyguard (22 page)

And it all started at the reunion. Bring them back to their high school days, give them a good meal and alcohol, and hit them up while they were feeling sentimental, not to mention competitive. Nothing brought out the sharks like a high school reunion. Everyone attending was there because they wanted to show off how successful they were. Successful enough to write big, fat checks to her development office, she hoped.

That's what she kept telling herself. The fact that this ten-year reunion was her own class reunion was irrelevant. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? Casey Cooper had been head bitch in charge of her senior year; boys had fought to date her and girls had copied her style. Ten years later, she wanted to prove she still had it. If she requested donations, her former classmates better pony up.

It was too bad Arianna Rose no longer had her trust fund at her disposal. One check from her could've easily hit her yearly target in one swoop. Last year, Arianna had been the first call Casey had made upon taking the director of development job at Montgomery Prep. Casey had actually felt a twinge of guilt calling on the girl she'd teased for being too artsy in high school, just like she'd felt guilty every time she'd taunted Arianna in school.

With Ari's gorgeous red hair and loaded bank account, she easily could've knocked Casey off the most popular shelf if she'd chosen, so Casey had had to act. Best defense was a good offense, and all that sports metaphor junk. Casey had swallowed her self-loathing and teased a girl with whom, in all honesty, she could've been friends.

More than ten years later, Casey had extended an olive branch, called Arianna to apologize and take her for lunch. They'd shared a fun hour, reminiscing and circling the touchy subject of Casey being a bitch back in high school.

“Hell, you're still a bitch.” Arianna had laughed. “But at least now I understand how to hold my own, and I respect the bitchiness to a degree. Sometimes it's the only way to succeed.”

Yep, Casey had thought she'd found the mother lode: a friend who was rich enough to donate six figures to the school without blinking. And then Ari's life had exploded and Casey was left scrambling to make her yearly quota the old-fashioned way: by calling donors to suck up. Damn Stanley Rose. She'd sent a hasty email to Ari to check in that her life was okay, but she hadn't offered her assistance, and truthfully, she felt guilty that she hadn't acted the part of a good friend. A good friend would've shown up at Ari's house with meals and a bottle of wine.

Casey had rationalized it, telling herself that Arianna wasn't
truly
a good friend, more of an acquaintance, really. Still…she didn't like feeling guilty, so she'd sent flowers when she heard through the alumni grapevine that Ari was engaged.

Ten minutes later, there was a beep on her phone, which was Annie's code that
The Mothers
were coming. The Mothers were an interchangeable group of parents—mostly moms of current students who volunteered a lot at the school. Casey had come up with the nickname a week after she'd started at Montgomery Prep. Their hours of commitment were commendable, but the women seemed to think it also extended to having a say in the running and daily operations of the school.

Thus far, Casey had had it easy with them. They'd been a great resource in volunteering with the school auction and staffing various booths at the annual spring alumni soccer game. Other school administrators, such as the curriculum specialist and the food services staff, had worse run-ins with The Mothers, and a big part of their job description was finding the balance between actually running the place and letting the parents think they ran the place.

Casey had no idea why a faction of The Mothers was at her door now, but they'd contacted her (directly, of course, in the parking lot at dismissal time when she'd been running out early to a doctor's appointment; they didn't like jumping through hoops and going through her admin) to request a minute of her time. No biggie, they'd said. Which of course meant that hours of Casey's nonexistent free time would be spent dealing with whatever request they made.

“Mrs. Forrest, Mrs. Cho, thank you for coming in.”

“Please, call me Beth,” Mrs. Forrest said, and both women looked pleased she knew their names without needing a reminder.

“How can I help you today?” Casey gestured for them to sit on the small couch in her office she kept specifically for this purpose. When potential donors came in to chat, it was friendlier to have it feel like a living room than an office. She rolled her desk chair around the desk to face them.

“We're here to talk about the auction.”

Because she was head of the development office—aka the fund-raising office—the auction fell under Casey's purview. Most of her workdays in the spring were taken up by the event, which raised money for the school's operating budget. A little-known fact about private schools was that most operated at a shortfall. The tuition did not cover the costs, which was why most schools solicited donations and held other large campaigns to pay for things like STEM labs and scholarships. Neither of these women was on the auction committee.

“What about the auction? Our weekly update meeting isn't for another three days—perhaps you should join us there?” she suggested.

“It's the caterer.”

Casey's stomach tightened. “What happened to our caterer?” she asked, and waited for some tale of disaster highlighting why their usual dependable caterer wasn't going to do the party, and she'd be scrambling for another caterer three months out.

“Nothing happened to the caterer.” Both moms looked at each other. “We've been talking.”

“Not just us,” Mrs. Cho added, “others too.”

Casey could imagine that the kind of “talk” that had been circling the tight-knit group of perennial volunteers was nasty in its nature. Many of the mothers at this school had advanced graduate degrees and were formerly high-level executives who left the work force and now donated their skills and energy to their children. Sometimes Casey wished they'd all lean in and get back to their own offices and out of hers. But they were also the lifeblood of the PTA. Nothing extracurricular would happen at the school without them.

“We feel the food our usual caterer serves isn't up to par.”

“Friendship Academy had a conveyer belt sushi bar at their auction.”

“I hear what you're saying,” Casey said slowly, trying to think diplomatically. “I'm open to exploring other options, but we must remember that the owner of the catering company we've used for years is a parent at the school. Not only that, he donates the company's services and food at a significant discount. If we switch caterers, the new company would have to meet the pricing, otherwise the auction wouldn't make as much money. That would be disappointing.”

Since the bottom-line dollar amount the auction made each year was a point of competition among the yearly chairs, Casey knew she'd hit upon a hot point. “Why don't you two get some proposals from other companies and then present your findings to the auction committee when you have some new data?”

Mrs. Cho and Mrs. Forrest glanced at each other. It wasn't the answer they'd wanted, but Casey refused to spend hours of her day calling caterers only to discover an answer she already knew. No one else was going to meet the price of their existing contract.

“All right,” one woman said slowly, as they rose and prepared to leave.

Casey opened her office door to usher them out and was startled to see Matthew Melles waiting outside. Matt was a man she'd met through work, and they'd gone out for drinks a few weeks ago. She'd only received one text from him after their date, so she was surprised to see him. “Hi, Matt. What are you doing here?”

“Ms. Cooper, introduce us to your friend,” Mrs. Forrest said in a flirtatious tone as she eyed Matt's tall frame.

Casey had to acknowledge that he was ridiculously handsome in a prep school way. With his perfectly coifed black hair that had the right amount of product, and a suit that looked more Manhattan than D.C., Casey could see how he'd appeal to the women. All women. “This is Matthew Melles, and I'm glad you're meeting him, because he owns a tutoring and online test prep company. Maybe you've heard of it? It's called Test Ace.”

Both women shook their heads.

“We guarantee to raise your child's GPA by a third and add five hundred points to their SAT score.” Like a magician, Matt pulled his company cards from a hidden breast pocket and handed one to each woman. “The best part is that all services are online so your kids with their busy schedules can find the time.” He gave them a dentist's dream smile. “And you don't have to schlep them anywhere.”

The women each slipped the card into their oversized pocketbooks and smiled at Matt before exiting. When they were gone, Casey rolled her chair back to the business side of the desk, then spun, surprised Matt had followed her. His pale pink shirt was a centimeter away from her lips. Close enough to smell his strong aftershave.

“Oh, um…” Casey was blocked in at her back and side by her desk.

He moved even closer, leaning down for a kiss. Their date had been fine, but she didn't think they were on hello-kiss status yet. She turned her cheek and let him buss it.

“I didn't know you were back in town,” she said inanely. He'd been in Florida last week, as he'd explained via the text.

“I got back this morning and couldn't wait to see you.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Of course.” He smiled and gave her space, moving back to lounge on her couch as if he owned it. “I had a great time on our date. I was hoping we could go for dinner tonight, so I stopped by to ask.”

“That's really sweet.” And it was. She'd been iffy on the date. On paper, Matt was the perfect guy and good-looking to boot, but he hadn't pushed Casey's buttons. Perhaps she should give him another chance. Professional, handsome single men were a hot commodity in D.C.; it wasn't smart to nix one because she hadn't wanted to jump in bed with him after an hour together. “All right. I should be finished with work around six.”

“Great. I'll pick you up then.” He stood. “Thanks for pitching my company to those moms. They're the opinion makers and my bread and butter.”

“It was no problem. Happy to help. Of course, the school can't officially recommend one test-prep service over another, but we do keep a list of recommended tutors and prep companies. I can try to find out how you get your name on the list.”

“That would be great.” He came closer as if he were going to try to kiss her again, but instead he glanced at her desktop. “Wow that's an old computer. I thought at a school like this, you'd be kitted out with the latest tech.”

“They save that for the students. We employees get the old stuff, but the hope is to upgrade everyone's system with money raised at the auction this year, so cross your fingers we raise enough.”

He raised a hand with all his fingers crossed. It looked as though he'd had a manicure. While Casey was an equal opportunist and liked that a man was into personal grooming, she wasn't sure how she felt about
Matt's
fingers being as nice as hers. “Good luck. I'll pick you up after work,” he called as he exited her office.

Sam bit into his sandwich and chewed, listening to the conversation swirl around him. Though their offices were located in downtown D.C., and there were a ton of cheap and tasty options, today they'd chosen to buy their food from the government cafeteria. Frequently he brought his own lunch from home to save money, but he'd overslept this morning and raced out the door.

Gathered around him were three other members of his Cyber Action team, a division of the cyber crimes unit of the FBI. On his left was his partner, Jack, and across from him was Ted Sanders, the special agent in charge of the unit. It was a rare event Ted joined them in the cafeteria, as he was usually meeting with muckety-mucks and other VIPs, trying to convince them their squad needed more funding.

“We got another report from the IC3,” Ted said, and Sam's attention was immediately caught. The IC3 was the online complaint center for the FBI where people could report attempted hacks, phishing scams, and more. Basically it was a nightmare of a flood of complaints, some legit, and many from people who had nothing better to do than complain about annoying emails they claimed were spam. For Ted to mention a report from the complaint center meant something valid was happening.

“Another private school, this time in Arizona, logged a complaint that they had suspicious activity, but they're not even sure if money got stolen, credit card numbers or what.” Ted shook his head. “These schools have millions of dollars on the line, but don't invest in their IT. I don't get it.”

Jack piped up, “Sam does. He's from that world.”

Sam swallowed as all eyes turned in his direction. “Not really.”

“Yes, you are,” Jack said and poked him in the upper arm. “Show them. You got invited to your ten-year reunion.”

“That's right,” Ted said. “I forgot you went to Montgomery Preparatory.” Since Ted rarely forgot any details, Sam could only guess he was playing it coy about his own children applying to Montgomery Prep in the next year. Sam had rightfully claimed he had no sway with the admissions staff at the school, but Ted must not have believed him. It was going to get uncomfortable at work if Ted thought Sam could help get his kids accepted at the exclusive prep school. Sam didn't earn nearly enough salary to make the kind of donations that gained him traction with the school.

“I went there for high school, but I haven't been back there since I graduated. I'm sure it's a very different place, and I don't know much about the inner workings of private schools,” Sam said.

“Were there other complaints?” Jack asked.