Colette enjoyed the friendly working environment, but was often at loose ends, looking for things to do around the shop. If this continued much longer, she wondered how Susannah could justify keeping her on full-time.
It’d never been like that when she was with Dempsey Imports. If anything, she struggled to find enough hours for a personal life. It helped that Derek had worked swing shift; if he’d been home in the evenings he would’ve wanted her there, too. As it was, she often got home at eight or even later. She’d loved her job, thrived on it. She hadn’t realized how much she’d miss it until the day she’d seen Christian again. She missed being involved in such a dynamic enterprise and the challenges that came with it—and she missed him. She didn’t want to, hated herself for the attraction she felt, and yet no matter how hard she tried to ignore these feelings, they persisted.
Completely separate from their lovemaking was the fact that he’d gotten involved in something illegal. For that reason alone, she could never go back to work for him.
Susannah, who’d been in the back assembling a new-baby bouquet, joined Colette at the counter. “Seeing that it’s so slow, I think I’ll run a few errands.”
“Is there anything you need me to do here?”
Susannah shrugged. “Unfortunately, no.” Glancing down at her watch, she said, “I shouldn’t be more than an hour, two at the most, but I’ll have my cell with me.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“I’m sure it will, too.”
Susannah left, using the exit that opened into the alleyway. As if they’d coordinated the event, as soon as the back door closed, the front door opened—and in stepped Christian Dempsey.
Again.
At the hard look in his eyes, Colette knew. The INS had acted on the letter she’d written. It was inevitable that sooner or later he’d find out who’d done this. Her stomach heaved with dread.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he said without greeting or preamble.
Colette’s mouth went dry. Instinct told her to play dumb, to pretend she didn’t understand what he was talking about. One glance told her he felt both angry and betrayed.
“You couldn’t have come directly to me?” he demanded when she didn’t respond.
Dredging up the courage to meet his eyes was difficult, but she managed. She clasped her hands behind her back to hide their trembling and shook her head.
“You got on my computer when I wasn’t there.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact, a fact that obviously infuriated him.
Colette felt she had to explain. “I needed the service code for—” She wasn’t allowed to finish.
“Who gave you my password?” His eyes were like burning coals. “My computer was off.”
“I f-found it.”
He didn’t seem to believe her.
“Who other than me could figure out where to look?” she asked. “I know just about everything there is to know about you,” she said and faltered because clearly she didn’t.
“Who else did you tell?”
“No one…”
“Swear it.”
“No,” she cried, clenching her fists. “How dare you come at me like this! I’m not the one—”
Again he cut her off. “That’s the real reason you resigned, isn’t it?”
She refused to answer him.
“You led me to believe it was about us and what happened at Christmas. That had nothing to do with it. That night was just a convenient excuse, wasn’t it?”
For an instant Colette saw a flash of pain in his eyes. It was immediately replaced with resentment.
Colette had questions of her own. “Why would you risk everything like this?” she asked quietly.
This time he was the one who refused to answer.
“I’ve thought this through a hundred times, and it makes no sense.” She gestured hopelessly, lifting both hands. “You have a profitable business in a growing market. You’re respected. I can’t understand what would compel you to take such a huge risk.”
“I can’t discuss this with you.”
“If not with me, then who?” she muttered.
“You think I should trust you?” he said. “Because of you I spent an unpleasant morning with a roomful of attorneys.”
“All I want to know is why,” she pleaded, needing some excuse, some explanation. “Is it the money?”
“I said,” he returned pointedly, “that I can’t discuss this with you.”
“Are you working for the INS?” That was the only possible reason that might explain his behavior. Or the only possible legal reason, anyway.
He didn’t respond, just looked at her, his gaze impassive.
Colette had so desperately wanted to believe this was the answer that she felt like crying. Instead the anger broke through. “Unless you’re here to place an order, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.” Rather than let him see how upset she was, she stood with her back straight, her shoulders square and her feet firmly planted. Her arms hung loosely at her sides.
After an interminable moment, Christian released a deep sigh.
She thought he’d leave then, but he continued to stand there, studying her. He no longer seemed so angry, and the change in his demeanor confused her. Curious and at the same time afraid, she reached for her pad and pen as if preparing to take his order.
“I asked myself over and over why you left the way you did,” he said at last. “Both of us made mistakes. Both of us reacted stupidly.”
“Now you know,” she said, doing her best not to be swayed by emotion. Colette had her answer. He’d gotten himself into a mess there was no getting out of. She couldn’t be involved with him. “I think you should go. And please don’t come here again.”