items. There had been a reception before the auction where the über-rich and celebrities could sip champagne and decide what they wanted to buy.
But as Charlie stood in front of the audience now, dressed in her tidy black suit, she felt everyone stir as if leaning in toward her for a better look at the tiara. And who could blame them? Under the lights, every single diamond sparkled like an individual star. The sapphires were so dark they looked almost black until the light hit them just right and they revealed a hue of blue so rich and deep it was like looking into the heart of the ocean.
Any other day, Charlie would be loving this. She would smile at the crowd as she walked down the center aisle so that people could take a closer look. She would move smoothly, slowly, proud to be a part of the Waverly’s tradition.
Today it was all she could do to remain upright.
She should have called in sick and skipped today’s auction. But she needed the extra money the overtime would bring her. And, more than that, she didn’t want her world disrupted. Didn’t want to be afraid, so she was pretending she wasn’t. Didn’t want to lose what she’d begun to build here, so she clung to that frayed and tired rope with everything she had.
“We’ll start the bidding at $35,000….”
The auctioneer went into his patter and Charlie zoned out again. She kept one corner of her mind on the task at hand, of course, walking to the front of the room once again and turning, holding the tray so that the lights caught the gems in just the right way.
But the other part of her mind was racing. Desperate to find a solution to her problem. Every day, she opened her email with fear and trepidation. And every day, her blackmailer was a little more curt. A little more dangerous. She hadn’t written back to him since that first day, hoping that he would think that she wasn’t getting his emails.
But even as she hoped and wished for it, she knew that wasn’t going to happen.
Whoever was emailing her wanted information and wasn’t going to go away until he or she got it. Which left Charlie exactly where?
Jail or out of a job? Losing her son?
Her heartbeat skittered in her chest and she felt a little faint. So she swallowed hard, locked her knees and held on. The bids came fast and furious. Red paddles lifted and lowered. Nods of the head. A wave of a hand. A cough. A phone ringing as anonymous bidders made their play for the stunning tiara. There was excitement, magic all around her, and Charlie didn’t feel any of it. Finally, beside her, the slam of the gavel made her jump.
“Sold for $75,000.”
That was Charlie’s signal to return the tiara to the holding room where its new owner would pick it up after the sale.
Justin took the tiara from her as soon as she returned.
“Thanks, sweetie. You’ve got time to sit down or something. I’ll need you again to take in lots 41 and 46.”
She forced a smile. “I’ll be here.”
“Hey.” Justin frowned at her. “You okay?”
God, was she that easy to read? How could she ever be a spy and sneak something out from under Vance Waverly’s nose if Justin—a man who barely looked up from the treasures he was in charge of—noticed right away that she wasn’t herself?
“I’m fine. Just a little hungry, I guess. Haven’t really eaten in a while. Didn’t have breakfast.”
“Well, go get something, honey.” He gave her an absent-minded pat on the arm. “We’ve got snacks set up for everyone in the break room.”
“Okay, I will.”
But Justin had already moved on. “Sam, put red velvet under the onyx rings. If you use black, who’s gonna see them?”
While the rest of the auction team bustled around in an organized manner, Charlie slipped off for some quiet. Some time to herself so she could think.
Trouble was, she’d been “thinking” for days about this problem and didn’t have a solution. Couldn’t figure out how to handle it. Didn’t know who to talk to about it, because no one here knew who she had been before coming to Manhattan. And that was how she wanted it to stay.
Charlie dropped into a chair beside the table loaded with sandwiches, cookies and cupcakes and idly picked up a snickerdoodle. She broke a corner of the cinnamon cookie off, popped it into her mouth and chewed—even though it tasted like sawdust.
Upstairs, Jake was playing in the day-care center. Her little boy was safe and happy. She had to keep him that way. But to do that, she would have to steal information from the people who trusted her to do her job. She was torn in two.
“Nothing’s that bad,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
She turned her head to see Vance Waverly standing there watching her. Her stomach did a quick pitch and roll and a hum of something hot and delicious swept through her. In the business suits he usually wore, Vance was too hot for words. Today, though, he was wearing black jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt and black boots, scuffed from long use. He looked not only hot … but dangerous. And so sexy her mouth went dry and she choked on the rest of the snickerdoodle.
Coughing, gasping, she thumped her chest with the flat of her hand as her eyes watered and she fought for air.
He came over, handed her a bottle of water and waited while she took a sip and the coughing eased off. Finally, when she was quiet, he smiled. And oh, that smile was absolutely devastating. Probably a good thing he didn’t do it often. No woman would be immune to a smile from Vance Waverly.
“Don’t think I’ve ever caused a woman to choke to death before.”
She frowned at herself. “You surprised me.”
“Clearly.” He tipped his head to one side. “You okay now?”
“Yeah.” She held the bottle of water in both hands. “Fine.”
“Good.” He pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. Propping one booted foot on a knee, he leaned back to study her. “So what has you so jumpy?”
“Nothing,” she lied, and looked into his brown eyes with their irresistible gold flecks. He had beautiful eyes, with long lashes and a steady stare that seemed to be peeling her open, layer by layer. Well, that wasn’t a happy thought. “I’m just tired. My son didn’t sleep well last night, which means that neither of us does.”
“Couldn’t your husband help take care of him?”
She flushed. “I’m not married. It’s just Jake and me.”
“Must be hard.”
“I won’t argue with that, but I wouldn’t change anything if I could, either.” In fact, she couldn’t imagine a world without Jake in it.
“Lucky boy,” he mused, still watching her.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“I work here,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.
Brilliant,
