didn’t think it would be a big deal. Neither of us was looking for a long-term relationship. I knew what happened in Texas was just a one-night stand and it would never happen again.”
Jonathon quirked an eyebrow. “Which explains perfectly why you just slept with her a second time.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“So you keep saying. Are we going to have a problem with the acquisition?”
Ford thought back to Kitty’s attitude. Last night she’d been passionate and demanding. This morning she’d been coolly reserved. “I don’t think so,” he said honestly. “She’s devoted to Biedermann’s. She’ll do the right thing for the company. As for me, she’s not emotionally involved. She’s just not the boil-a-bunny type.”
“How well do you know her?” Jonathon asked.
“Well enough to know that.” Then he noticed that Jonathon leaned over his laptop as he spoke, typing rapidly. Ford just rolled his eyes. “You’re looking her up on Google, aren’t you?” In answer, Jonathon just shrugged. “After all the information about her that Wendy dug up, you think you’re going to find something on the Internet that we didn’t already know?”
Jonathon shrugged. “It never hurts.”
Annoyed, Ford continued speaking. “I know her well enough to know she’s not going to back out of a business deal for personal reasons.”
Jonathon tapped his fingers across the mouse pad while he waited for the slow hotel wireless connection to load the results page. “I hope you’re right. Kitty owns nearly sixty percent of the company. If we don’t have her on board, the deal will never go through, regardless of whether or not we can convince anyone else.”
“I know that.” His tone was a little sharper than he’d intended.
Jonathon raised his hands in a gesture of defense. “Just reminding you.” He clicked on a page, then sat back, waiting for it to load. “If she backs out now, we’ve wasted a decent chunk of change. And I don’t like wasting time, either.”
“She’s not going to back out. Selling Biedermann’s to us is going to make her a lot of money. That’s all the incentive she needs. She’s been rich all her life and we’re going to make her richer. There’s nothing else we need to know.”
But by then Jonathon had leaned forward to read whatever Pandora’s box Google had pulled up. He let out a low whistle.
“What?” Ford demanded.
“You might want to read what Suzy Snark has to say before you say anything else that’ll get you in trouble.”
Tension seized Ford’s stomach. “Who?”
“Suzy Snark. She’s a gossip blogger here in New York. Talks about Kitty every once in a while.” He looked up at Ford. “You didn’t really read that report from Wendy, did you? Suzy Snark was mentioned multiple times.”
The tension that had started in his gut seeped through the rest of his body, leaving him frozen on the spot. He should just cross the room and take the damn laptop from Jonathan, but no matter what orders his brain issued, his feet weren’t following them.
Finally he said, “Stop being so damn cryptic and just tell me what the damn thing says.”
“Trust me, you’re going to want to read this yourself.”
He took the laptop from Jonathan and sat back down on the sofa, only vaguely aware of Jonathan walking away to give him privacy. As he read, his tension coalesced into cold, hard anger.
A few minutes later, Jonathan returned, holding out a shot of Scotch from the hotel’s courtesy bar. Ford carefully set the laptop on the coffee table before accepting the drink. He took several long drinks, then realized his knuckles were turning white from gripping the glass too tightly.
Finally he stood and headed for the door with grim determination, almost too angry to speak.
“Where are you going?” Jonathan asked.
“To find Kitty.”
Six
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Kitty felt marginally more prepared to face Ford. After he left her apartment Saturday morning, she’d decided she simply couldn’t face him again so soon. So she’d abandoned the familiarity of her apartment for a hotel not far from Biedermann’s offices. She’d spent the weekend with her phone turned off, huddled under the blanket watching an I Love Lucy marathon and ordering room service. She’d bawled when Little Ricky was born and then found herself unable to stop crying. Poor Lucy always tried to do the right thing, but always made a mess of things. Sometimes her own life felt like an episode of I Love Lucy, but without the laugh track or the comforting presence of Ethel Mertz.
Maybe this mess would seem more bearable if her own pratfalls could be cushioned by the unconditional love of her own Ricky Ricardo. Maybe if Ford …
No, she stopped herself. She couldn’t think like that. He wasn’t hers. He never had been and he certainly wouldn’t be now that she was keeping this secret from him.
Maybe, she justified to herself, one lie of omission deserved another. In Texas, he hadn’t told her that he was a business tycoon whose company was worth billions. So Saturday morning, she didn’t tell him the whole truth, either.
But of course, she hadn’t outright lied. After all, he truly didn’t need to worry that she’d gotten pregnant then. By the time they’d had sex, she was already two months pregnant.
All of her rationalizations almost made her feel better. Until Monday morning rolled around and she found Marty pacing in her office. With his tie loosened and his hair tousled, he looked as bedraggled as she felt.
She dropped her handbag on the chair by the door and shrugged out of her coat before tossing it carelessly on top. “Honestly, Marty, have you even been home? You look as if you slept here.”
Marty knew her as well as anyone did. Keeping the truth from him would be quite the challenge. Today was a day to channel her inner bitch if there ever was one.
He ignored her comment. “Where have you been all weekend? I’ve been trying to reach you since Saturday. We all have.”
Kitty’s stomach tightened. This didn’t sound good. “I went away for the weekend.” Another lie. Sort of.
What could she possibly have done wrong now? She hadn’t even been here. Running his fingers through his hair again, Marty asked, “Have you been online this morning?”
She faked a yawn to cover any panic that might have crossed her face. “You know I can’t stand staring at a computer screen before coffee. Speaking of which, could you be a dear and get—”
“No, Kitty. Not this morning.” He rounded her desk and popped open her laptop. “Come have a look.”
By the time she reached it, the Suzy Snark blog was loading onto the screen. At the top of the page was a picture of her and Ford climbing out of the cab in front of The Pierre Hotel. Whatever nasty comment
