The bed sagged under Kane’s weight and he pressed a warm kiss against her forehead. “Do you want me to stay until dawn?” he asked quietly. “What about your tenants, not to mentioned our fellow bankers? You were the one who didn’t want our relationship open for public viewing,” he reminded her. “Besides all of that nonsense, I need a shower, shave and a change of clothing.”
Even to Erin’s cobweb-filled mind, Kane’s reasoning seemed logical and clear. She propped up her head with her hand and tugged at the quilt close to the base of her throat. An autumn chill stung the morning air.
It took a little time, but slowly she began to awaken, and with interested eyes, she watched him get dressed. It was strange how comfortable she felt just being with him, how natural and right it all seemed. But he was correct. The fewer people who knew of their relationship, the better.
Kane left just as dawn was stretching its golden rays through her bedroom window. She listened as his car roared off down the hill and faded in the distance. It was a faraway, lonely sound that retreated into the misty morning air.
It was impossible to fall back into the heavy slumber that had come to her in Kane’s arms. And so, with one final assessing and dubious glance at the clock, she got up, showered and dressed for the day.
Surprisingly, with only a few hours sleep, Erin felt wonderfully refreshed after the hot needlelike spray of the shower pulsated against her skin. She toweled herself dry, applied a thin sheen of makeup, twisted the ebony strands of her hair into her businesslike chignon and stepped into her favorite burgundy suedelike suit. As she tied the broad white bow of her silk blouse she glanced in the mirror, and the woman in the reflection smiled back in genuine fondness. Erin felt good about herself this morning.
Fingers of fog still held the city, but the bright morning sun sent prisms of colorful light streaming heavenward in what promised to be a gorgeous fall day.
Unwittingly Erin smiled as she pushed her way through the large plate-glass doors of the bank building. The dismal feeling of trepidation that had been with her during the transition of ownership of the bank seemed to have disappeared. Even as she brushed by Kane’s office, she felt only a tinge of regret for Mitch. She still had a fondness in her heart for her ex-employer, but she realized that there was nothing that she or anyone else could do to help him. He had never returned any of her calls, although she had left several messages on the mechanical answering device that Mitch had installed. She had tried her best. Now, surely, if he needed to get in touch with her, he would.
As she passed by the outer reception area, she reached, by habit, for her messages stacked neatly on the main reception desk. She smiled inwardly as she read the bold scrawl that she recognized immediately as Kane’s handwriting. It was concise and stated only “Tonight, eight o’clock.” Erin couldn’t restrain the blush that slowly climbed up her neck nor the look of satisfaction that touched the corners of her eyes. She wondered how transparent she must appear.
The secretary who had compiled the messages for her was a professional woman of about sixty, who neither commented nor indicated in any manner that she had read or interpreted the intimate message in Ms. O’Toole’s slot. Relief washed over Erin as she read the look of total disinterest in the gray-haired woman’s smile and the professional “Good morning” that was her usual greeting. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Even before Erin began to move toward her office, the secretary resumed the quick staccato rhythm of her lithe fingers on the keyboard of the typewriter.
It was midafternoon before Erin actually saw Kane again. He was conferring in the hallway with a man whom Erin recognized as a vice-president of the loan department. For a quick instant Erin’s mind traveled to the employee loan that she had requested and wondered fleetingly if it was the topic of conversation. From Kane’s reaction she doubted that he was discussing her need for funds.
As she passed the two bankers Kane gave Erin a perfunctory nod of his head to indicate that he had seen her, but there was nothing the least bit intimate in his gesture. It was an act of courtesy to acknowledge an associate. For a moment Erin’s temper began to rise, and she felt angry until she understood the reasons for his discretion and feigned lack of interest in her. It was what she had requested, insisted upon—that their relationship remain secret, clandestine—and he was adhering to her request to the letter.
As she closed the door to her office she found herself still thinking of Kane and the tenuous rel
ationship that existed between them. How could something so wonderful as falling in love with Kane seem so wrong? Why did she feel two conflicting urges warring within her mind? One feminine part of her wanted to share the happiness she had found with him with the world. The other more cautious and rational side of her nature urged her to silence. After all he was still her boss, the man who signed her paychecks, and it would be easy for anyone to misconstrue her feelings and relationship with him. She had been the target of curious and malicious gossip before, and she had vowed never to let herself be put in such an emotional and compromising position again. She knew how devastated she had been eight years ago, and she steeled herself against any intrusions into her private life. She hadn’t wanted to fall in love with Kane; it had just happened. Perhaps, together, they could avoid the speculation and gossip. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to keep things on a professional level at the office, could it?
Erin lulled herself into a sense of serenity. It was a brilliant autumn afternoon, and other than the slight snub from Kane, the day had gone well. It wasn’t until late afternoon that her tranquil mood was destroyed.
Contrary to what she had expected, Erin had accomplished more work this day than she had in weeks. Kane Webster had seemed to more than amply fill Mitchell Cameron’s shoes, and all the disturbing telephone calls and interruptions that Erin had become used to had vanished. For the first time in over six months she could devote all her attention to the piles of probate work that had accumulated in her “Incoming” basket.
Erin was actually giving herself a mental commendation as she surveyed the clean desktop and slipped into the burgundy jacket before leaving the building. Just as she reached into the open desk drawer for her purse, there was a sharp rap on the door, and Olivia Parsons, not waiting for an invitation, glided into the room.
At the sultry brunette’s entrance, Erin felt a cold tingle of apprehension at the back of her neck. Olivia was holding a clipboard pressed firmly to her breasts and jangled something metallic in the air.
“New keys!” Olivia announced, and dropped a ring of keys with a jingle onto the desktop. The green shimmer of Olivia’s street-length designer dress matched the emerald essence of her eyes. “I’ll need all your old keys,” she stated flatly, and waited, somewhat impatiently, with her long fingers resting against her hip. The action emphasized the long, seductive curve of her leg.
“My keys? Why?”
“Standard procedure, after something like this embezzling thing with Mitch. Who can guess just how many sets of keys he’s had made for any door in this building?”
“Of course,” Erin agreed, and found herself relaxing a little as she realized that Olivia was just doing her job. Erin understood the liability of the bank. Even if Mitch had turned in his set of keys, he could have a dozen copies hidden away. The bank couldn’t take the chance that he might sneak back into the building or the vaults.
“Here they are,” Erin stated, producing the keys from the side pocket of her purse. She handed them to Olivia and the dark-haired girl frowned as she counted them. “Where’s the other one?” Olivia asked, a puzzled expression crowding her neatly arched brows.
“I don’t have any others. Just the key to the front door, the probate file cabinet, and Mitch’s office—unless you want my desk key.”
“No,” Olivia answered, checking the corresponding numbers on the keys against her chart. “What about the key to the securities cart?” she asked, her green eyes reassessing Erin.
“I haven’t had the key to that cart in years,” Erin said, thinking aloud. Absently she rubbed her temple. “It had to have been over seven years ago.” Again a chilly feeling of apprehension swept over her and her stomach began to knot.
“But the ledger here indicates that you should have a key to that cart,” Olivia maintained. Laying the white formal sheet of paper on Erin’s desk, she pointed to a line showing that Erin did, in fact, receive the key in question within the last year.
“It’s a mistake…” Erin sighed. “I never had that key!”
“But aren’t those your initials next to Mitch’s signature?” Olivia pressed.
“Yes…it looks like I signed out for the key. But I didn’t. There must be some mistake….” Her voice trailed off. She knew that she had never had that key. The whole situation was absurd. And a little frightening. Anyone with that key could withdraw negotiable stocks and bonds from the cart if given the right opportunity. A perfect plan for embezzlement. The thought sickened her.