Suspicions: A Twist Of Fate / Tears Of Pride

Thoughtfully he rubbed the weariness from the back of his neck. Somehow the satisfaction that he had expected to feel while tracking Cameron’s accomplice was missing. He chided himself and accused himself of being a fool. He was beginning to soften where Erin was concerned, and he couldn’t let that happen, especially since she was probably robbing him blind at this very moment.

He slanted another severe glance at the file. The name that seemed to leap from the page at him was Sinclair. His lips drew into a thin, hard line. It was ludicrous, but the piece of information that bothered him the most wasn’t the incriminating evidence against Erin, but rather the fact that she had been married at one time. It was infuriating for him to imagine another man making love to the dark-haired woman with the wide eyes and provocatively defiant tilt to her chin, even if it had been years ago. He chuckled to himself humorlessly. What did he expect, anyway? That any woman that attracted him be a virgin?

It was the word that his own mind had used that jarred him back to reality. He was attracted to Erin, and he couldn’t allow himself that luxury. He couldn’t let her get under his skin, especially if she was indeed what he suspected her to be.

With a disgruntled shove, Kane pushed the file back into the drawer and slammed it shut. Then, after shaking himself mentally, he locked his desk, somehow wishing he could throw away the key.

Chapter 3

It was late afternoon by the time Erin arrived home. She had spent the day window-shopping and walking through the heart of the city, mindlessly watching the crowds of shoppers and breathing the salty air from the sound. She had avoided going home, content to wander among the tourists as she attempted to sort out her confused feelings. She didn’t want to deal with anything or anyone until she had set her uneven emotions back in balance. But try as she would, she was unable to push Kane Webster out of her thoughts.

Erin was angry and resentful of the way Kane had so high-handedly dismissed Mitch. She was offended by his insinuations that she had compromised her morals for career advancement by sleeping with Mitch. And, perhaps more than anything else, she was afraid of and uncertain about the feelings that he could stir in her with only a look or a touch of his fingertips. It was as if he were attracting her and repelling her at the same time. What was it about him that caused such warring emotions to battle in her weary mind? Something about him excited her, fascinated her, and she felt as helpless as a moth compelled to an irresistible flame. It was a flame that would surely burn her with a molten passion until she was consumed by heat and fire.

Even the old Victorian apartment house didn’t seem as comforting as usual. As Erin was about to mount the stairs to the loft, Mrs. Cavenaugh, oldest of the tenants, opened the door of her apartment and called to Erin before she could escape.

“Erin, honey,” Mrs. Cavenaugh cajoled sweetly while leaning heavily on her cane. “It’s already getting dreadfully cold in here. I thought you were going to do something about that insulation. The floor is just like ice, and it’s starting to bother my arthritis again.” The kindly, bespectacled old woman smiled at Erin.

“Yes, Mrs. Cavenaugh, I know,” Erin sighed as she paused on the lowest step. “And I promise that I’ll get some bids on the insulation this week. There…uh, have been a few changes at the office. I’ve been pretty busy and I guess I’ve been neglecting my duties around here. But that’s no excuse. I’ll take care of it.”

Wise, faded blue eyes scanned Erin’s face, and Mrs. Cavenaugh shook a slightly crooked finger at the younger woman. “I could tell that something was bothering you from the moment you dragged yourself through the door. It’s not that ex-husband of yours again, is it?”

“Oh, no! This has nothing to do with Lee…”

“Humph! Always said that boy would come to no good.”

Erin began to protest again, but Mrs. Cavenaugh would have none of it. “You know what you need, don’t you? A cup of my chamomile tea. A good strong one.” She gave Erin a knowing wink. “You’re in luck—I have a pot brewing this very minute.” A crafty look came over the wrinkled face, and she turned to lead Erin into her apartment.

“Oh, no, Mrs. Cavenaugh, I couldn’t…”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Cavenaugh sputtered. “Now, you come in here and tell me what’s really bothering you!”

Erin stopped protesting to smile and follow the bent figure into her apartment. The poor dear woman wasn’t really looking for Erin to complain about the cold floors at all, Erin realized. Mrs. Cavenaugh just wanted some company to brighten the long afternoon and evening. Erin decided the least she could do was enjoy a cup of tea with her elderly tenant, even if it was the foulest concoction ever to be poured from a silver teapot.

As Erin expected, the long, lace-covered coffee table was already set for two. A service of shining silver teapot and fragile porcelain cups adorned the table, and the air was scented with the strong aroma of chamomile.

Erin sat graciously in the floral side chair while, with slightly shaking hands, Mrs. Cavenaugh poured the pale ochre liquid into one of the cups. “Sugar?” she suggested, and without waiting for an answer, dropped two lumps into the light-colored brew.

Erin took the cup and sipped at the tea while Mrs. Cavenaugh settled herself into her favorite worn rocker. “So now, Erin, tell me about your problems at work.” Light blue eyes sparkled with interest as Erin briefly sketched out her morning at the bank. Erin glossed over a few of the details, carefully omitting any references to the bevy of emotions that her new boss had aroused in her. But Mrs. Cavenaugh’s knowing eyes saw more than Erin had hoped to divulge.

“So this new boss of yours…what’s-his-name…” Mrs. Cavenaugh began.

“Mr. Webster.” Erin supplied the missing words.

“Yes…what’s he like?” Eyes, crinkled at the corners, stared earnestly at Erin over the rim of the tiny cup.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Erin said with a shrug, hoping that she appeared aloof. “He’s…all business, I suppose. You know, the typical banker type.”

“I wonder…” The old woman paused dramatically, but Erin refused to rise to the bait and defend her position. “You say that he let Mitchell Cameron go? Why?”

Erin frowned into her teacup. “I don’t know,” she replied earnestly. “But I intend to find out!”

Mrs. Cavenaugh’s laughter crackled through the apartment. “And I don’t doubt that you will.” Why did Mrs. Cavenaugh seem so pleased? “Do you expect to corner Mr. Webster at work on Monday and get to the bottom of this?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. He wants me to meet him tomorrow—show him the city, let him know firsthand about the bank. But I don’t think it would be a good idea. You know how I feel about my free time…”

“Oh, nonsense!” The sweet, wrinkled woman smiled and waved her hand, dismissing Erin’s argument as if it were a bothersome insect. “Yes, I know all about your need for privacy, and I know why. But, Erin, it’s been eight long years since that louse of a husband walked out on you, and you can’t hide away forever. Why not have some fun with this Mr. Webster? How could it hurt?”

“I have no intention of ‘having fun’ with Kane!” Erin exclaimed, bristling. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s eyes seemed to dance at Erin’s familiar use of her employer’s first name. “If I were to go, it would be strictly as a business meeting!”

“Call it whatever you will, it doesn’t matter. But for goodness’ sake, honey, go!” Mrs. Cavenaugh seemed to sense that Erin was wavering, and she added one final incentive. “How else do you plan to find out about Mitchell Cameron, unless you confront this Webster? I would think that you would prefer to do it while you were alone with the man.” She seemed thoughtful for a minute, letting her teacup rest in her hand. “This isn’t the kind of thing that you would want to start a scene over—now, is it? It just wouldn’t do to let on to all of the employees. It’s too scandalous, don’t you think? What would it do to employee morale?”

Erin laughed at the thinly veiled attempts of the kind but conniving old woman to persuade her. “Why is it that I feel manipulated?”

Mrs. Cavenaugh spread her palms upward in a helpless motion, suggesting that she didn’t have the faintest idea what Erin was implying, but a devilish twinkle remained in her eyes.

“Look, Mrs. Cavenaugh, I just may go with Kane tomorrow. But don’t make anything more of it than what it is—a business meeting. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, so don’t go playing matchmaker for me,” Erin warned with a pleasant smile as she set her empty cup on the table.

Mrs. Cavenaugh chose to ignore Erin’s bit of advice. “More?” she asked, holding the teapot in midair over Erin’s cup.

“No, thank you. I’m sorry, but I really do have to get upstairs. But you’re right,” she added, placing her palm on the hardwood planks of the floor, shiny with patina. “I think there’s a draft coming from the bay window.” She walked over to the window in question and ran her fingers around the sill. The cold air made her frown. “I’ll see to it that somehow we warm this place up before winter really sets in.” Erin dusted her hands off against her jeans. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Don’t mention it,” the elderly woman responded with a wave of her hand. “You know you’re welcome here anytime.” She was smiling smugly to herself, seeming quite pleased.

Erin let herself out of the quaint little apartment and headed up the stairs. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was too late in the day to get anyone out to weatherize Mrs. Cavenaugh’s apartment this weekend. She jingled the keys in the lock and gave a hefty shove to her own sticky front door. There were so many things that needed to be done to the apartment house and so little time and money to do them with.

With a sigh she took off her jacket and headed for the kitchen. As she made herself a quick sandwich she thought about Mrs. Cavenaugh. She was right, of course. The only logical way that she would find out the circumstances surrounding Mitch’s dismissal would be to confront Kane directly, especially since Mitch was so mysterious and cynical about the situation. However misguided Mrs. Cavenaugh’s motives were, Erin had to admit that the little old woman made sense. And, no matter what, she couldn’t run away from private discussions with her boss forever, could she? Any emotions that had started to entangle her would just have to be straightened out and dealt with in a professional manner.

The pastrami sandwich that she created tasted like mustard-covered cardboard, and after a few nibbles she put it back into the refrigerator. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s biting words came into her mind. “It’s been eight long years since that louse of a husband walked out on you. You can’t go on hiding forever!”

Is that what I’m doing? Erin wondered as she flopped down on the soft cushions on the couch. Am I hiding? From what—or whom? Ever since her personal life had been thrown open to the public, and she had become the object of speculative gossip, Erin had vowed to keep her privacy securely guarded. Lee’s open affair with Olivia had scarred Erin so badly that even today, eight years afterward, she refused dates with coworkers in an almost paranoid way. With the exception of a few close friends no one at the office had any ideas about her love life.

Some love life! She had to laugh at herself at the thought. Except for a couple of men who had interested her only slightly, she had hardly dated since the divorce. It was easier, and she preferred to keep her feelings under tight rein, thus avoiding any further conjecture about her personal life.

Eight years ago Lee had seen to it that Erin was the topic of conversation in the bank cafeteria. Whether he had intended that she discover his affair with Olivia, Erin couldn’t guess. But it hadn’t taken long to find out about his clandestine meetings with one of the most seductively beautiful women in the bank. When she had discovered the affair, Erin had crumbled. But Lee had seemed to blossom and feed upon her humiliation. Even during the first confrontation he hadn’t been upset or contrite but rather smugly proud. Erin and Lee had separated, and Lee’s fascination with Olivia continued to thrive. He was forever throwing the affair in Erin’s face as if, somehow, she was to blame for the failure of their marriage. For a while she had tortured herself with the same thoughts.

But as Lee’s attraction for uncomfortable confrontations with Erin increased, Erin realized that he drew a malicious satisfaction from taunting her. He saw to it that he and Olivia were everywhere that Erin went. During working hours he would come into the bank and meet Olivia for coffee. At office parties he would escort the sultry Olivia, never missing a chance to display his affection for her with a gentle kiss or a whispered endearment—always within eye- and earshot of his former wife. At the time Erin told herself that it shouldn’t bother her, and during the day she kept up a seemingly unconcerned and professional appearance. But at night, after long lonely hours working toward a law degree, she would find herself alone in the bed that she had once shared with Lee and she would cry bitter tears of frustration.

That was years ago, and somehow the pain had lessened. Now, looking back on the past, Erin wondered if she had ever really loved Lee. She had cared about him, yes, and her pride had been severely bruised by his betrayal. But she doubted that she had ever loved him, and certainly not with the passion that she knew he had found with Olivia.

After the liaison with Olivia had cooled, Lee had come back, hoping to rekindle the ashes of their broken marriage. Erin had waited for that day, falsely thinking that she would feel a vengeful satisfaction from slamming the door in his face. But when he had actually arrived on the doorstep, he looked tired and ragged. He was unshaven and had large purple circles under his eyes. His clothes were disheveled, and even his perfect blond hair had seemed to lack its usual luster. It had taken all of her strength to close the door on him in his embarrassed and confused state. She had turned him away, and instead of feeling the grim satisfaction of sweet revenge, she could only feel empty, dry and sad for her ex-husband. After locking the door, she had run into the bathroom and been sick for the rest of the afternoon, retching until her stomach had emptied and her body shook from the ordeal.

Erin stretched out on the couch and shook her head, trying to dislodge those vivid and melancholy memories of the past. She ran her fingers through the thick tangle of her black hair. The long evening stretched ahead of her as she clicked on the television to clear her head. The selection of sitcoms and variety shows was dismal, so she picked up a mystery novel that was guaranteed to interest her and curled up again on the antique sofa. But the spy thriller that should have held her attention, didn’t. She found her thoughts traveling backward in time to her marriage only to jump forward again to this afternoon and to Kane Webster. With a disgusted sigh she tossed the book onto the coffee table and stared into the dusk. She let her mind wander at will until late in the night.

* * *

The doorbell chimed precisely at ten o’clock the next morning. Erin paused for a moment as her defenses wavered at the thought of facing Kane alone. Impatiently the doorbell sounded again, and she forcibly steeled herself before opening it.

“I thought that just maybe you had run out on me,” Kane joked. He seemed affable, yet there was still that underlying hardness about him, a doubt that she had felt yesterday.