predates greeting card companies. What’s got you so tired? Your editor over at the Tub putting you on more stories or something?”
“Always plenty of silly stories and gossip.” Her foot edged toward the doorway as if she couldn’t wait to escape. “I’ve just been busy.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
There was no mistaking her surprise. “No!” Her gaze darted toward the empty staircase. “No,” she said more calmly. “I’ve told you before. I’m not interested in dating anyone.”
Pax didn’t particularly care if they were overheard by Cornelia or one of her employees. It wasn’t like it’d be news to them that he was pursuing Shea. “So I shouldn’t take it personally that you’ve been avoiding me even more than usual.”
She looked pained. “I’m not...avoiding you.”
He had ample evidence otherwise, but debating with her was pointless. “I know you decided somewhere along the way that I’m a player. That I’m not really serious where you—or anyone else—are concerned. But I’m still curious why you’re so opposed to—”
“—sexual hookups?” She looked around the foyer that was literally coming up roses. “Please don’t say romance.”
“I was going to say relationships,” he corrected blandly.
“We have a relationship—journalist and frequent subject.” She looked ready to say more, but all she did was rock on her heels a few times and tuck her hands inside the pockets of her short jacket. He couldn’t see any evidence that she wore a blouse beneath it, which had him fondly recalling the lacy bra she’d worn the night of the ice storm.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes. Her image still filled his head right along with her soft, slightly powdery scent. “Relationships with anyone outside of your work,” he clarified.
She was silent for so long, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. “Because there’s no point,” she finally said. “They never work out.”
He opened his eyes, studying her for a moment. Wondering. And suddenly wanting more things than he wanted to admit. “You remind me of Erik.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Your partner?” She stretched her arm above her head until it was straight. “About this tall. Dark hair. Gray eyes. Male. I remind you of him?”
Shea was short, blonde and beautifully female. “Until Erik met Rory in December, he was pretty jaded about relationships. Earned it from a bad marriage. You have one of those in your past, too?”
She didn’t look away from him, but it seemed like a curtain dropped down inside her eyes, hiding her thoughts. “Never been married,” she said evenly.
But there had been someone. Or something. He’d bet on it. “I’ve never been married, either.”
“I’ve interviewed you eight times. The subject has been covered to death.”
He grinned, wanting to lighten the tension in her expression. “So. You’ve been counting.”
She rolled her eyes, though he noticed the twitch of her lips. Which she swiftly controlled, naturally, being the jaded, tough nut that she claimed to be. Then she exhaled. “Pax, I—” She broke off when the front door opened and Belle St. John, one of Cornelia’s newer employees, came in, pushing a cart with several bulging bags of mail on it.
Pax had seen the sight more than once now, so he was no longer surprised by the quantity of mail sent to FGI’s post office box.
“Crazy, isn’t it,” Shea murmured while Belle rolled the cart through the arching doorway beneath the split staircases and into the conference room. “I wrote one article back in October where Joanna Spinelli called Cornelia her fairy godmother for helping finance her break into fashion designing. And out of the clear blue sky, people thinking they deserved a handout began coming out of the woodwork asking her for money. And not just for starting up legitimate businesses, either.”
Pax had read every one of Shea’s articles in The Seattle Washtub since they’d met, even the ones that were nothing more than who was doing what around town, and he remembered exactly the article in question. “Cornelia hadn’t even started up FGI at that point, had she?”
Shea shook her head and her hair slid over her shoulders, making his fingers tingle. He knew exactly how silky her hair was. How it felt sliding through his fingers. Draping over his chest.
She was still talking, thankfully oblivious to his thoughts. “Joanna’s a friend of one of her daughters. The article in the Tub went viral, though, and the next thing we knew, we were getting tons of mail for Cornelia at the paper.” She shrugged. “And the amount of emails that poured in for her was even higher. The volume actually knocked out our computer server for nearly a week. The response was just as heavy over at HuntCom, too.”
“Doubt the computers over there failed,” he said dryly. The international juggernaut was computers.
“Right?” She gave him a dry look. “Anyway, Cornelia was already thinking that she wanted to help more people the way she’d helped Joanna, and all that public response sealed the deal.”
“FGI was born.”
“Pretty much.” She looked around at the lavish foyer. “Helps when you’re married to a man who gives you sixty million or so as a wedding gift that you can invest right out of the gate. Cornelia’s already helped nearly three hundred women start their own small businesses. Everything from yarn shops to B&Bs to law firms.” She hitched her purse up on her shoulder. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.” Belle had reappeared again sans cart and Shea waited until she’d gone back upstairs. “Of course, Cornelia and the others have to read through a lot of ridiculous requests before they find a valid one.”
“Others being the fairy godmothers,” he added. “It wasn’t just a term of Joanna’s. That’s what they call themselves, isn’t it? And the women they select for their projects are called Cindys.” Erik and Rory had told him that.
She made a reluctant sound. “Cornelia values the anonymity of the women she helps even more than she values her own. So, yes. They’re...Cindys. As in Cinderella project.”
“But you’ve never called them that. Not in anything you’ve written about Cornelia’s business, anyway.”
“Because the terms are silly!” Her voice rose again and she jumped guiltily when a voice spoke her name from above them. They both looked up to see Phil standing at the top of the stairs.
“I’m glad you’re still inside.” Phil held up a colorful, woven key chain. “You forgot your keys again.”
Shea grimaced and met the other woman halfway up the stairs. “Thanks. Wouldn’t have gotten very far without them. Think I need to wear them around my neck or something.” She skipped back down the stairs and headed straight for the door. “See you all later,” she called out to nobody in particular before seeming to bolt out the door.
“Another successful effort, I see,” Phil told Pax after the door softly closed. “Have you ever thought about just asking Shea out?”
Pax
