of his motivational stalks around the office.
“You have to leave now,” she said in a stage whisper.
But instead of doing as she’d asked, he turned around and looked at her computer monitor. That was when Skye remembered the document she’d minimized a few minutes ago—her work in progress. She hurried back into the cubicle and leaned over Nico to grab the mouse, but it was too late.
“What’s this?” he asked, covering the mouse with his too-large hand before she could reach it.
“Nothing.”
With a click, the first page of The Cinderella Solution glowed on the monitor for all the world to read.
“Don’t read that!” she said, to no avail.
“Once upon a time—”
“Stop!” Skye felt her face flush. She hated anyone reading her lousy rough drafts and hated getting caught slacking off on the job even more.
“Is this what you do for—” he glanced up at the wall, where the company’s logo was emblazoned in royal-blue print “—Dynalux Systems? Write stories?”
“I was taking a break,” she lied. “Haven’t you ever heard of those?”
“Looks to me like you were slacking. Does your boss know you write stories at work?”
“It’s my business what I do on my breaks.”
He looked at his wristwatch—an expensive Swiss one, Skye couldn’t help noting. “A break at four-thirty in the afternoon? Aren’t you about to leave work?”
So she was busted. “I finished all my Dynalux work, okay? Now don’t you have a car to go wreck or something?”
He gave her a look. “I wonder how your boss would feel about your slacking, or the fact that he has a probable criminal working for him.”
Her manager, Nelson Rudderman, whose favorite words were maximize and strategize, would have a cow if he found out she was doing something besides maximizing her time and strategizing how she’d contribute to the future success of Dynalux on company time.
“I’m not a probable criminal,” she snapped.
“I don’t know that. I think either you tell me where Martin disappeared to, or I’ll have to tell your boss about your dirty little secrets.”
“I don’t have any dirty little secrets, and I have no freaking idea where Martin went.”
“You’re lying.”
Nico might have been hot, but he was a world-class jerk.
“I can call security. You’re not even supposed to be in here.”
“Go ahead. I’ll make sure I talk to your boss on the way out the door.”
“What makes you think I’m Martin’s accomplice?”
“He talked about you constantly. ‘Skye’s so hot. Skye’s so smart. Skye’s gonna write the next big craze in kids’ books.’ Why would any of that drooling adoration have been an act?”
“Because he wanted you to think he was a nice guy?”
“He could have accomplished that without being so damn annoying. I don’t think he would have taken off without a plan to hook up with you again in a few months when the police have forgotten about the two of you.”
“Why wouldn’t I have just disappeared with him?”
“He’s trying to protect you by making it look like you weren’t involved.”
Skye looked at the bra on her desk. Clearly not hers and apparently not one Nico recognized as a garment he’d removed from any recent dates.
It was just her luck that when she found a guy who was crazy about her, he was also crazy enough to clean out her savings account—not to mention that he was a crazed sex hound who would hump anything in a skirt.
“You’re wrong. He was so crazy about me he just couldn’t resist taking some other woman’s bra off.”
“Look, I never said he wasn’t a scumbag. But he didn’t talk about other women. He talked about you. Constantly. Until I wanted to puke.”
Skye blinked away an unwelcome dampness in her eyes. She’d been crazy about Martin, too. Crazy stupid. It was the story of her love life: Skye meets a guy she thinks is great, Skye dates said guy, then said guy takes off with all her money or, at the very least, her dignity.
She’d learned her lesson this time though. Now she knew for absolute sure that all her instincts about men were dead wrong. And she’d vowed that from now on, whenever her instincts told her a guy was right for her, she’d better run in the opposite direction.
For the rest of her post-Martin life, she would live by the rule of opposites. Whatever her instincts told her to do about a guy, she had to do the opposite.
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You’re not getting off that easy. Don’t you think your employer ought to know what kind of person is working here? Either you cooperate with me, or—”
Skye’s temper flared. She hated being backed into a corner, but the truth was, she needed her job, and recent cutbacks at Dynalux surely meant she was being looked at. Sooner or later, the powers that be were going to figure out she wasn’t exactly essential to the company. “Or what? You’ll get me fired?”
He leveled a gaze at her that was neither friendly nor hostile. “I don’t have any control over what your employer decides to do with the information I have.”
“What did Martin steal from you?”
“About twenty grand and my favorite motorcycle.”
“Isn’t that like a drop in the bucket for a racecar driver with a house in Malibu?”
“Former racecar driver. And twenty grand is twenty grand.”
No point in arguing that. She could, after all, understand his frustration.
He continued. “It wasn’t what he stole so much as how he stole it. He acted like we were friends, and he lied to me.”
“Tell me about it.” He’d lied his way into her bed and into her heart. “So what? You’re going to hunt him down and demand an apology?”
“I’m going to hunt him down and get my money back, then turn him over to the cops, since they don’t seem all that interested in the case.”
“He’s probably left the state.”
Skye dropped her handful of papers back on her desk, giving up the ruse of having work to do elsewhere.
“You want to know the truth? I think I know where he is. But you do, too, don’t you?”
“Right,
