The shit had hit the fan.
They’d given him an ultimatum: Get security and get it immediately. Call the police. Call the FBI. Call whoever it takes, but have the stalker found and stopped. And by the way, make damn sure no one hears about this, either. No one.
Conley shook his head. He couldn’t deny their logic. The tech market was shaky enough on a good day; publicity as potentially bad as this could put a spike right through the heart of Harrison’s. The whole company would go straight down the tubes. This morning—a week since his accident—he’d brought Matthew Oakley in and discussed the situation, explaining the nervous investors and their desire for security. Matthew had reacted just as Conley had known he would.
“This makes my point, Con,” he’d said. “We need to move on the glass chip. I’m telling you, it’s the best way for us to get on top. The money guys will forget about everything when they hear about this idea.”
Standing beside Conley’s desk, Matthew had worn a familiar expression—one of stubborn persistence. Quiet and self-effacing, the gifted designer understood the world of computer chips better than anyone Conley had ever known. But he was also invisible. Light-brown hair, nondescript eyes, average height and weight. When he walked into a room, no one ever saw Matthew. Even fewer listened when he talked. And so he was dismissed.
But not by Conley. He’d recognized Matthew’s intelligence instantly.
Matthew put his hands on the desk. “Let me run with it, Con. We can’t wait any longer. Somebody else will jump in there.”
They’d had this discussion too many times to count. Matthew had designed a chip—on his own—that he wanted Harrison’s to sell. But Conley wasn’t willing to go forward. There had been problems with the preliminary run and even more had been discovered in the beta testing phase. If Harrison’s delivered a product before the bugs had been worked out, the harm the company could suffer would be greater than missing the market completely.
“I can’t do that, Matthew.” Conley had shook his head. “Not now. Not yet. It’s not ready and neither is the company. You’ve still got some problems with that chip and I’m not putting Harrison’s name on it until those are solved.”
The expression on Matthew’s face had said it all. Anger, then resentment, then acceptance. “Okay,” he’d sighed. “You’re the boss. You know best.”
Right, Conley thought now.
His company and his marriage were two trains on parallel tracks, each heading toward the edge of the canyon with no bridge in sight. I’m the boss, he thought. And I know…shit.
A knock sounded on his office door. Turning painfully, his leg still sore, Conley called out and the door opened.
Theresa stood on the threshold, a notebook in her hand, her strong, distinctive perfume preceding her. She rented space downstairs, and in fact, that was how they’d met. Right after Conley had moved the company into the bigger offices several years ago, they’d literally run into each other in the hallway. When he’d learned she was an attorney they’d started talking and the relationship had followed.
“I just received the new contracts for the London deal. Is this a good time to go over them or would you rather wait until later?”
He motioned for her to come in, and she did so, closing the door behind her. Walking briskly to the conference table at one end of his office, she opened the file and spread out the papers. Conley stayed where he was, staring out the window.
After a few minutes, he realized she was waiting. “I’m sorry, Theresa,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a lot of my mind—”
“It’s okay.” She looked as if she were debating something. Finally, she spoke. “It’s Lara, isn’t it? She told me about the divorce, Conley. I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry….”
Conley didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “She told you?”
“Yes. When I called her about the accident, she explained.”
Conley fell silent. Lara wasn’t the kind of woman who shared personal things with people, excepting Sandy, of course. Her job called for that kind of discretion but it was her nature, as well. Then it dawned on him. She’d told Theresa so she could get a referral.
“Did you tell her who to call?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you give her the name of an attorney?”
For once, Theresa looked flustered. “No— I—I didn’t do that. She didn’t ask. I—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He turned back to the window and stared out at the mountains in the distance. Their frozen peaks looked as cold and hard as his heart felt at the moment. “I think we’d better review those contracts later if you don’t mind.”
She murmured something he didn’t quite catch and a few minutes later the door opened then closed. He stayed where he was for a little bit longer, then he reached for the phone. There was no sense in putting off his decision. This was a problem that had to be resolved…and there was only one firm for a thousand miles that could handle it.
THERESA CLOSED the door softly, but stayed where she was, her fingers wrapped around the door knob. Poor Conley. He didn’t look well. Still pale and shaky from his accident, he shouldn’t have been at work. He should have been at home, sipping hot tea in front of the fireplace, taking it easy after that horrible accident. He should have been relaxing. He should have someone taking care of things for him.
Someone who loved him as he deserved.
Her hand tightened involuntarily, the cold metal hard beneath her touch.
If he’d been her husband, she wouldn’t have let him leave the house.
Forcing her fingers to relax, she released the doorknob and started down the hall toward the back stairs, her shoulders stiff with anger. Lara Harrison didn’t deserve him and she never had. She didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a man. All she cared about was herself. Anyone who’d ever met her knew how true that was. She was just like her father. Self-centered and completely oblivious to those around her.
Her heels clattering on the metal stairs, Theresa reached her office and slammed the door behind her. Dropping the files on her desk, she crossed the room and stood beside the window. Her view was the same as Conley’s. She’d planned it that way from the very beginning. When she looked out at the mountains she saw exactly what he did.
The symbolism had appealed to her.
Closing her eyes against the startling beauty of the mountains, Theresa allowed herself a tiny smile. Her mother had always told her one day her luck would change and she’d been right. Theresa had grown up on a ranch in South Texas, a hardscrabble place where she and her mom, the cook and maid on the spread, had lived in a run-down shack that froze in the winter and baked in the summers.
Her whole life had felt like a struggle that never ended, one catastrophe after another. Her father was someone she never knew. The fight for grades and a scholarship. Then law school on no funds and a dishwashing job. Nothing had been easy for Theresa. Then she’d met Conley Harrison and everything had fallen into place. And
