The Confession (2 page)

“It makes sense she’d need someone quickly, especially with the auction coming up, the party, and the all the work going on around here,” she said, spooning dough onto another sheet.

“The first girl is up with her now. I don’t think the interview will last very long. She was so nervous I don’t think she even remembered why she was here.”

“I hope you weren’t mean to her, Marcus. You know how intimidating you can be to these young girls. Maybe if you smiled once in a while, you wouldn’t be almost thirty and single.”

Mark laughed. “I like being single. I have all the women I can handle right here with you and Emily.” He winked at her.

Mimsey scowled.

“This time,” he said seriously, as he fought to control the anger that began to surge through him as he remembered Emily’s previous assistant. “I’m going to insist Emily run a proper background check, and possibly request a DNA sample before the new girl sharpens her first pencil.”

“You need to let that go.” Mimsey reached out and gently rubbed his arm. “You can’t hold all that anger inside, it does you no good. What’s done is done.”

He knew she meant well, but he couldn’t let it go. “I should get back to work.”

“Marcus Lee, I mean it. You need to stop being so protective and trust that not everyone who comes into Emily’s life has a hidden agenda.”

“I can’t do that. From where I stand, every person is guilty until proven innocent. I have enough evidence to prove that’s a legitimate stand to take.”

“Marcus … ”

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her soft chocolate-colored cheek. “I know she needs some help. I get that. But it doesn’t mean I’ll stand by with my head in the sand this time. I will be polite and courteous, but I won’t be foolish. I won’t allow her to be hurt again.”

He strode out of the kitchen and peered through the window overlooking the driveway. When he didn’t see the girl’s car, he headed up the stairs. Tapping lightly on the door, he walked into Emily’s office. She sat behind a large antique desk, her head down, her hands moving a sleek gold pen across a notepad.

She looked up as he approached. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

He shrugged. “Are you trying to tell me I’m predictable, or overbearing?”

“Both.” She smiled and set her pen down.

“Well?”

“She’s perfect. She’s highly qualified, professional, friendly, and available immediately.”

Mark paced the room. “Are you sure? She seemed like a scared rabbit to me.” He stopped and leaned onto her desk, palms flat, and his body tense. “Aren’t you at least going to run a background check before you hand over the key to the safe?”

“I will request one, but the agency won’t send anyone to me who hasn’t passed a background check. I’m going with my gut on this girl and she’s moving into the cottage today.” She stood and walked around her desk. “Mark, stop worrying so much. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“Don’t you think after your last assistant I have a right to be worried? She wasn’t just one more in the extensive line of long-lost daughters, she was convincing. Not only did she almost walk away with a large sum of money, she hurt you. You opened up your heart, and she broke it.”

“I know I need to be careful. I also know you’re worried. Justifiably so, but I have a good feeling about Aimee. Didn’t you sense something different about her?”

He did, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good something. She made him feel things he didn’t understand. Her beauty was undeniable, but he didn’t think that was what drew him to her. He’d experienced a jolt when their hands touched. For a moment, he’d actually thought she’d felt it too.

She confused him. Something wasn’t right, and it put his normal suspicions into overdrive. Her golden hair was stylishly cut in a way that screamed modern, professional, even successful, yet she wore jeans and tennis shoes to a job interview. She seemed ready to run when he’d approached her car, her bright green eyes showing a mix of confusion and fear, but she exuded an aura of confidence when she reached out to shake Emily’s hand. Aimee seemed nervous about the interview when she arrived, but Emily didn’t seem to have detected any of that. Something didn’t add up.

“You hired her on the spot? You’re not going to interview anyone else? Maybe call her by the end of the week?”

“She’s perfect, and I don’t have another week. If anything comes back on her background check, I promise I will allow you to personally toss her into the street. Deal?”

“Be careful.” Mark wrapped his arms around Emily before turning to leave. Reaching for the door handle, he turned back around. “And don’t make assumptions that she’s as innocent as she appears. They never are.”

Aimee set her bag down inside the front door and entered the cottage nestled in the back of the property. It had a separate bedroom, a warm, inviting kitchen overlooking a large vegetable garden, and a comfortable living area with a bay window that allowed the afternoon sun to warm the small space. A vase filled with freshly cut flowers stood on the dining table and a large basket of freshly baked muffins sat on the kitchen counter with a note:

Aimee ran her fingers over the elegant, handwritten note before placing it gently back on the counter. She wasn’t sure what she was doing. Her decision to take this job was impulsive and more than a little foolish. As a successful handbag designer, she had a business to run in New York, and the new season’s sketches to complete. Orders would be piling up within the month, and after flying to North Carolina to be with her dying mother, she was already weeks behind. Instead, she would be planning an auction and coordinating a birthday party in San Francisco. It was crazy, but she couldn’t think of any other way to get to know Emily.

Carrying her small suitcase into the bedroom, Aimee unpacked her things into the dresser drawers. She ran her hand tenderly over the old leather case she’d brought with her. Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears as she remembered the secret nestled inside. Her mother’s secret. The secret that completely changed Aimee’s life. It was like she could hear voices bellowing from inside the latched case. Voices raised in anger, and soft muffled cries of pain. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she rose from the bed and slid the case gently onto the top shelf of the closet.

Aimee’s knees were shaking, her stomach in knots. After spending the last thirty minutes with Emily Sinclair she was again questioning her right to be here. The woman was amazing; smart, beautiful, warm. But behind the brightness of her eyes lie a shadow, an ache she seemed to believe she’d hidden, but Aimee saw it. It broke her heart.

Turning to leave the bedroom, she lingered in the open doorway for a moment, realizing she had nothing appropriate to wear if she was going to start work the next day. Having only packed jeans, two pairs of shorts, and one simple black dress when she’d left for North Carolina, she’d have to call Luther and have some of her things sent from her loft in New York. Then she would have to do some last minute shopping to tide her over.

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and turned it on. Seven voice mails, five from her sister Joan, and two from Luther. Joan could wait. She had nothing to say to her.

“Aimee,” Luther said the minute he picked up the phone, “where have you been? I’ve been calling you.” She could easily picture him pacing through the store, throwing his hands up in dramatic despair. “Why haven’t you checked in with me? I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m fine, Luther. I’m sorry if I worried you. It’s been a little crazy.” She smiled at his loud expulsion of breath.

“How is the old battle axe, still alive and kicking?” He paused, his voice softening. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know she’s sick and it can’t be easy for you. She is your mother, after all.”

“It’s not easy, and a lot has happened. It turns out she isn’t — ”

He growled into the phone, interrupting her as venom dripped from every word. “What? How could she do that to you? Getting you all worried about her, call you to her bedside in the middle of the night, and for what? Just to get your attention? I always thought that woman could never surprise me, but then … ”

“A lot has changed.”

“What are you talking about? What has changed? Sounds like the same old games to me. Is she actually dying, or was that a staged act to spin a little upheaval into your world? Oh, she’d like that all right, sounds exactly like something she’d pull. The woman hasn’t said a kind word to you your entire life, and still thinks you should be worshiping the ground she slithers upon … ”

She couldn’t help but smile as her best friend ranted and raged in her defense. Luther was her business manager and the one person in the world she trusted. But this time things were different. She wasn’t ready to talk about it, even to him.

“It’s a lot more complicated than only her illness, and a long story. I promise to tell you in detail, but I need a favor, and I need you to not freak out on me.”

“You’re not going to leave me hanging like this, are you? You can’t do that to me. A lot has changed, she says, but can’t talk now. You will just have to sit and wait until I’m damn good and ready to talk about it, she says. Just go about your life, Luther, like I didn’t say anything — ”

“You’re freaking out on me.”

“What is it? What is this favor?” The hurt was clear in his tone.

Trying to reassure him, she said, “I promise to fill you in. I’ll tell you all the details I know, just not today. I still need to find a store around here and pick up some clothes for work, and I need you to send me some of my things.”

“Clothes for work? Now what are you talking about?”

“I need you to go to my loft and send me some clothes other than jeans, including shoes, the works. I also need some of my sketch books, the ones I started drawing the new line in. And I need you to hold down the shop for a while.”

“Aimee, what is going on?”

“Please, Luther. I’ll explain everything when I can.”

“You better believe you’ll explain, dropping bombs on me like this, no warning, just boom, boom — ”

She interrupted him. “You’re freaking out again.”

“Of course I’m freaking out. What did you expect with all this nonsense you spew at me? Work clothes for what? Are you suddenly opening a new shop in North Carolina?”

Aimee walked over and curled into the bench seat built into the bay window, looking out at the beautiful gardens. “No. It’s not a new shop. I’ll explain later, but I need them sent to the Sinclair Estate in San Francisco. Oh, and please address them to Morrison, not Roberts.”

“Sinclair Estate? San Francisco? Why are you going by Morrison again? Aimee, what in the hell are you doing in San Francisco? I thought you were in North Carolina.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll be organizing an auction to start.” Aimee could no longer make sense of the incoherent questions being thrown through the phone line. “I promise to explain when I can. I’ll call you soon.”

Aimee hung up with Luther still rambling on the other end.

Mark stared at the empty screen on his laptop. “Once upon a time,” he typed, emitting a small chuckle. He sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and hit the delete button. Leaning back in the lounge chair outside of his cottage, he kicked his feet up on the corner of the table and took a long pull from his cold beer. The setting sun transformed the sky into a vivid watercolor of oranges, pinks, and reds. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and let the silence of the fading day soothe him.

A gentle breeze blew over him, bringing with it a soft, feminine scent with a spicy touch of sex appeal. He knew it was her before he saw her. He sat up in the chair, his ability to relax vanishing with a single scent. What was it about her that got under his skin?

He watched her come around the old oak tree, carrying a shopping bag in each hand. She paused a moment to smell the blossoms on a rose bush, a faint smile touching her lips. She didn’t walk quite as much as she glided, an air of elegance mixed comfortably with a sense of purpose. She hesitated when she saw him.

“Hello, Mark.”

“Been out shopping, have you?”

She nodded. “I didn’t bring much with me, I’m afraid.”

“I doubt you anticipated starting your new position immediately. Emily is overwhelmed right now and probably didn’t think about the fact you’d need a bit of time to get things arranged.”

“It’s all right. I’m having my things sent to me, and I was able to find enough to get me through.” Motioning with the bags she held in her hands, she smiled at him and began to walk away.

“Why don’t you put your bags away and join me for a drink,” he said, hoping she would agree. He was anxious to learn something about her. With Aimee, his curiosity was almost as strong as his distrust of her.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. It looks like you’re busy.” She nodded toward his laptop.

He smirked and looked at the blank screen. “Not busy at all. I would enjoy the company.”

“Well … ”

“I insist. I’ll go open a bottle of wine and meet you back here.” He stood up and headed into his cottage, giving her no chance to refuse.

Ten minutes later, Aimee sat down across from Mark and accepted the glass of wine he handed her. He watched her in silence, wondering what she was thinking. She seemed uncomfortable, looking down into her lap and playing with the stem on her wine glass.

“Is your cottage adequate?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“Are you from the San Francisco area?”

“No, actually I’m from the East Coast. New York,” she replied.

“That’s a long way from here. What possessed you to apply for a job in San Francisco?”

“It was more of an impulsive decision.”

She certainly looked sincere. Would someone really move across the United States on impulse? Could she be running from something, or worse, was she here to get close to Emily like the last girl had been?