“We may not have a week. And you’ll still be in a lot of pain. The doctor said it would take three months, at least, for your spine to heal.”
“I know. I’ll just have to take that chance.” His strong fingers tightened around her hand. His gaze drilled into hers. “Don’t do it, Allison. If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.” Acting on a sudden impulse, she bent and kissed him on the mouth. It was meant to be a quick goodbye peck, but, perhaps because they both wanted it, their lips lingered and warmed. His free hand caught the back of her upswept hair, pulling it loose as the kiss deepened. Something in the depths of Allison’s body went molten, pulsing and shimmering, wanting him.
But no, she mustn’t do this. Not now, with so much at stake. Summoning all that remained of her will, she pulled free and backed away from him.
“Stay, Allison.” His voice was rough with need.
“I can’t. I’ve got to do this. Forgive me.”
Before he could change her mind, she turned and hurried out of the room.
“At least promise you’ll tell me what the hell’s going on there,” he called after.
“I will.” Allison paused to answer. “I promise.”
Then, after grabbing her jacket and purse, she was out the door.
* * *
When Allison walked into the agency at one o’clock, she was greeted by Monica, who let her into Burke’s office. The blond receptionist was courteous, but not exactly warm, which was all right with Allison. She had no wish to become friends with the woman.
Monica left her and returned a few minutes later with coffee in a Styrofoam cup and a packet of creamer.
“Thanks,” Allison said. “Is Garrett around? I didn’t see him when I came in.”
“Oh.” Monica had been about to leave. Then she turned in the doorway. “Mr. Miles and Mr. Kaplan are at the theater, meeting with the designers and contractors. Mr. Miles asked me to get you started on the client contracts.”
“The client contracts? Oh, these?” Only then did Allison notice the large file box on the corner of the desk.
“For now you’re supposed to read through them. Get familiar with each one—the terms of agreement, the signing and expiration dates, and anything personal about the clients, like addresses and phone numbers. I’ve set up a file on the computer where you’ll enter the information. You know, like a database.”
“Thanks, I know what a database is,” Allison said. “As long as I’m doing the work, could I ask what the database is for?”
“I guess so. Once the partnership’s drawn up, the contracts will be transferred to Edgeway. The clients will be given new contracts to sign. The database will be used for tracking.”
“I see. Will I have any trouble accessing the digital file?”
“Your login and password are your first initial and last name. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, I will.” Allison finished her coffee and logged into the computer. From the front office, she could hear Monica on the phone, punctuating her conversation with that inane, high-pitched giggle. She was tempted to close the door of her office, but on second thought decided to leave it open. She was here to learn, and she was already learning plenty.
Kaplan, the Mob lawyer, had become a regular at the agency. He and Garrett were already taking bids on the remodeling of the American Heartland. And Edgeway would be taking over the agency as well. Clients who accepted the new contracts would be unknowingly signing their souls over to the Mob.
The days when she could protect Burke from the truth were over. She’d promised to tell him everything she found out. When he learned what Garrett and his cohorts were up to, her husband would be livid.
Setting her resolve, she started on the database. She’d expected the work to be drudgery, but she soon discovered that each contract had a story behind it. These clients were show business people—singers, dancers, musicians, and actors; stand-up comics, acrobats, and magicians. The paperwork gave her intriguing glimpses into their lives.
What would happen to these people if the Mob were to take over their contracts?
It was almost four o’clock when she looked up to see Garrett standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, an amused grin on his face.
Startled, Allison stifled a gasp. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Long enough to see that you’re really into this job. How about we break for an early dinner—or a late lunch, if you want to call it that? We can relax and talk over a good steak and a glass of wine.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Allison was faking her enthusiasm. She didn’t relish the thought of an intimate dinner with Garrett, but she needed to hear what he had to say.