Chapter Seventeen
Two hours later, a brisk fire blazed in the stone fireplace. The flames reflecting off the large thermopane window highlighted a paper pandemonium scene. Files and computer printout sheets lay strewn over every available flat space. Low conversation broke out when Caitlin, Mike, or Rachel uncovered intriguing bits of information. Rachel jotted everything down in shorthand.
“What all this is boiling down to is Kirby,” Rachel concluded after looking over her notes.
“He’s systematically replaced the shipping department staff over the last eight months. He was behind the Pete Maze recommendation for a second shift transfer into the department.” Caitlin stared at paperwork her predecessor had approved
“Yeah, based on lighter responsibilities due to a nervous condition. Maze and Kirby took at least two vacations together to Las Vegas. I’ve heard rumblings Maze likes to gamble, too.” Rachel passed the request to Caitlin. “And look at the doctor’s signature for that medical diagnosis and restriction.”
Caitlin glanced at the signature. “Ah yes, Oscar. The doctor who never treated a worker that light duty wouldn’t cure.”
“I’ll check further into him,” Mike added and took the employment file from Caitlin. He scanned it. “Hell, this guy’s a walking disaster. Several work related accidents. I see Debbie’s made notations about questionable circumstances in every accident.”
“She’s worth her weight in gold,” Caitlin concluded and mentally filed a pay raise for the nurse’s future. Another thought struck her. “Where are the sick leave forms, Rach?”
Rachel pointed to a folder on the floor in front of Caitlin’s feet. Its contents were a gold mine. Caitlin reviewed sick days for the staff in the shipping department and found another pattern. What it meant, she couldn’t determine yet, but she had Rachel document the pattern and the file number in her notebook.
“I’m beginning to feel like Vince, with his notebook.” Rachel broke the quiet as she wrote down the latest facts.
“Not a chance,” Mike snorted, never looking up from his folder. “You’re beautiful.”
Near the end of their work session, he discovered several small discrepancies in shipping orders. “Maze initially approved these, but Dan Hall caught them, corrected the problems, and initialed the changes. I’ll talk to Hall tomorrow. Get the particulars of these situations. They aren’t drastic, just re-occurring. That kind of glitch bothers me.” He set down the folders and gave Rachel the numbers for their record. “File these separately.”
“Why does the shipping department have problems? The rest of Northland runs like a well-oiled machine,” Rachel asked as she put the documents Mike handed her in a special file.
“Good question.” Mike sifted through his notes again, reorganizing their content within big circles on a legal pad.
Caitlin looked over his shoulder as he worked. “What are you doing?”
“This kind of process visualizes the numerous problems with personnel, health, working conditions and record keeping, to name a few. When I look for connections, I see things that might get hidden in the words. Like Kirby Metz. See?” His finger traced an invisible chain between the circles and within them.
Caitlin used her red pen and drew lines following his finger. “But we aren’t losing inventory, so what’s the purpose in all this?”
“Another good question. And how does it all relate to what’s happening to you?” Mike finished and looked up from the paper with its circles and lines.
Caitlin broke the silence by slapping down her red pencil. “This is a wild goose chase, Mike. Shipping’s one of the few departments I’ve stayed out of. Because Stein worked there, Keith ordered Kirby to deal with any problems coming from there.”
“That’s probably why the place is in such a mess,” grumbled Rachel as she jotted more information on her notepad.
“From all this, Metz appears implicated and he’s not doing his job.” Mike finished up the last of his files as he spoke. He left his penciled circle-and-dotted-line doodles on top of his stack of work.
“As usual,” commented Caitlin, closing up her last file and peering at Mike’s circles. “Hmm. After tonight, I have more facts for terminating him.”
“Maybe that’s the connection, Cait. He’s worried now that you’ll see his ineptness and fire him.” Mike rose from the floor, his bad knees creaking in protest.
“For that, he wants to dismember me? I don’t think so. It’s not his style. He might like the end result, but he’d have no part of the deed.”
“Much as I dislike Kirby, Cait’s right, Mike.” Rachel was picking up folders and putting them in specific piles.
“Metz could be a candidate for hiring the muscle then,” Mike suggested.
“Whatever. We need to show all this to Vince and then keep working to figure out what this information means. It’s important, but I don’t think it’s connected to what happened to me.” Caitlin rolled her neck and head in circles, hoping to dislodge the tension riding her shoulders. She looked around her. “You two look exhausted.”
“Well, I’m quitting for the night. A hot shower and bed sound wonderful.” As she spoke, Rachel stretched like a sleek cat. She rose from her chair, stretched again, and looked at Caitlin. “Would you mind if I asked Vince to come for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll do the cooking.”
“No problem. In fact, I could stay at work if you want some private time with him.”
Rachel grinned and stretched again. “Maybe I’ll banish you to the lower level instead. Up the excitement quotient. I don’t want you staying at work. Well, goodnight, you two…and thanks.” With a wave, she headed for the stairs.
Mike stretched, rolling his shoulder muscles to relieve the tension. “She’s one good looking woman.” He followed her exit, looking appreciative enough to tweak Caitlin’s envy gremlin. “Stylish and smart. Vince is one hell of a lucky guy.”
“That makes me what? Chopped liver?”
“You’re smarter than anyone I know, Cait. Except when it comes to knowing yourself.” He moved toward her. She stepped back, not satisfied with his answer or her testiness.
“We worked well together tonight. Don’t you agree?” Reverting to professional mode, she put the last of her scattered papers into a neat, size-coded pile and skewered the envy.
When he reached her, his hand turned her toward him. Fighting her instincts, she leaned in to him. “Your body understands what your head isn’t sure about. Trust it for a change.” With knee and thigh, he nudged her toward the deep sofa. Along the way, he hit the light switch. “And yes, I agree; we work well, so let’s try another activity.”
In a moment, only the flickering fire lit the oak-paneled room. Stay vertical girl. How far should she let this go?
“Kinda nice, isn’t it?” he asked after he settled her against several large pillows in the corner of the sofa. She put her feet up on the coffee table. Sitting next to her, he did the same. Next to his large ones, her feet looked small and slender. She rested a side of her foot against his. They watched the fire in companionable silence, her eyelids drooping but her senses on full alert.
“You really tired?” His strong hand fondled the back of her neck and the rounded base of her skull. Otherwise, he didn’t touch her.
Part of her wished he would, but she wouldn’t ask. “Not enough to sleep. I am tired of working on paperwork, though. Are you? Tired, I mean.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, a magnet attracting its metal.
“Nope, but another log or two on the fire and a drink to unwind sounds about perfect. How about you?”
She thought of the fire, how it relaxed her, especially when combined with the warmth of Mike. “Perfect. You do the drinks and I’ll do the logs. Deal?”
A broad smile spread across his face. “Deal, scotch or Chardonnay?”
“Chardonnay, but in a large goblet from the top kitchen cupboard to the left of the sink.”
“Gotcha.”
She poked the red hot embers and threw two more logs onto the grate. Firelight would mask her bruises, highlight her coloring. If Mike intended to stoke her fire, it was time to allow it.
He returned to a revived fire and dreamy music playing in the background. “Looks like a seduction set-up,” he teased as he handed her the wine.
“Depends on how you play your cards.” She sipped her wine and nuzzled further into the corner of the couch.
While he was gone, she had pulled out blankets, sheets and pillows to make up the bed, but hadn’t been that domestic. Or bold. A welcoming bed might lead to other projects. Ones she wasn’t sure she could stop. Or even want to.
He spotted the bedding, sipped his scotch, and shot her a smoldering grin. “An unmade bed won’t stop me if I get the right signals.” Kicking off his boat shoes to match her shoeless state, he dropped beside her.
“Smart-ass,” she countered. “You’re thinking back seat?”
“Nope, too old.” He sipped his drink and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “You mind?”
She eyed his hand as it slipped forward onto her chest. His finger tips skimmed the upper fullness of her breast. She inclined her head onto his shoulder resting against the lower edge of his strong jaw. With her free hand, she took his hand and guided it over her breast.
He set his drink aside.
A fleeting whiff of his cologne tickled her nostrils. The scent upped her pheromones. She moistened her lips and waited for his next move.
“Not too old to understand this.” He edged closer to her, running his fingers along her neck. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You’re doing fine.” His wandering hand fondled her breast. His touch fired her insides up. She squirmed.
“So are you.” He sipped his drink. “Tell me when to stop.”
Caitlin’s thoughts centered on Mike’s hand above her breast. His nearness and warmth pricked her nerve ends. Had he always had this technique? One slow movement, stop, lay back and wait. Maybe he’d grown-up. Or had she? The refrain of an old hit, singing about slow hands tumbled into her head. Oh yes, he had wonderfully slow hands.
Or maybe he’d gotten more persuasive. Please, oh God, don’t let him stop.
As if sensing her thoughts, he shifted an inch or two away, set down his drink, cupped her chin in his now free hand, and tipped her face to his. “This sounds corny and cliché, but you’re gorgeous by firelight. It puts fire in your hair. Makes me wish I had a way with words.”
“Those worked...” She fell back against the arm of the couch. His body slid over hers. She moved to her side to give him room as his lips found hers, brushed them softly at first, then demanded more as he nipped and pulled at her lower lip. His urgency fed hers.
She demanded more, loving his warm lips against hers. Wherever his lips landed, they left faint whispers of single malt. Those whispers enticed like chocolate. She wanted more. She struggled to readjust to the width of the couch, trying not to break contact with him.
A useless try. He slid off the couch. Bereft at his loss, she slid after him. And landed on top.
“Much better,” he growled and shoved the table further away.
“Smart move.” She attacked Mike’s lips, going from wet licks to open mouth, tongue-tangling, breath stopping lip locks. Only the need for air halted her assault.
“That’s negotiating or surrender?” He shoved the table even further away and slid her to her side, her back against the couch.
“Both, I’m negotiating and you’re surrendering.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“We’ll see about that.” His lips moved restlessly across her jaw and lips, nipping love bites along her lower lip, nibbling up and down her jawline. She groaned and eased into him, took his face in her hands, and looked up to his closed eyes.
“Don’t you want to see me, Mike?” He moved away, mere inches, but she shivered in his absence.
“I see you all the time. You never leave my mind.”
“But that’s your mind. Look at the real me.” Her index finger slid across his high cheekbones, just beneath his smoldering eyes, open now, to see her invitation. It matched the soft temptation of her body nestled against his.
“Kiss me again,” she whispered as her tongue licked her lower lip, moistening his way. Needing no further invitation, he groaned and bent to conquer. Lips met lips, tongues reaching and seeking an intimacy too long denied.
He thrust. She accepted. His lips and tongue had the same slow magic as his hands.
Loving the tingling bubbling within her, she wondered why she turned him away so long ago. She wouldn’t do so again. He moaned deep in his throat. His tongue explored her mouth and danced with her own. She squirmed against him as tingling erupted into explosions deep inside her, rocking her to and fro. She moved her hips against him.
Mike pulled her against his chest. She pushed back and quick as a cat shed her sweatshirt. “I need to be really close.”
He yanked off his sweater and she fell against him. She played with his chest hair while he slipped her bra from her. Each discovery fed her fire. His hand cupped her breast. Her tongue darted into his mouth, found and mated with his while he fondled a hardened nipple. She slipped a hand down to his zipper and slid it down, never stopping her rhythm against him.
He followed her sensual dance. She unbuckled his belt. He slid a hand under her waistband and found her moist center. She bucked against his arousal. He ground against her.
“God, you’re magnificent,” he murmured and bent to pull a nipple into his mouth.
She moaned and resettled herself to offer him a better angle. He licked sensuous circles around her nipples. They tightened. Drowning in quaking sensations, she writhed against his arousal. Vivid images of what she could do to him flitted at the edges of her oozing desire. It humbled and thrilled her.
“You like this?” he mumbled against a throbbing nipple.
“Oh, yes,” she gasped, her answer coming from somewhere soft and pliant deep inside her. She cupped the outsides of her breasts, pushing them toward him, an offering.
Pleasured by her gift, he smiled. “Then enjoy…” he spoke between nippings and slick lavings. “You have perfect breasts.” He moved one hand away from her nipple, heading in a more southerly direction.
“Stop,” she panted and pushed him away.
“What?” His mouth dropped open.
“I need to see you, all of you.”
He grinned, a little boy at Christmas grin. “I’ll beat you.”
He did, but only because her legs got tangled in her underpants.
“Do I pass your inspection?” His arousal throbbed before her, thick, wanting, pulsing with life. The rest of him looked pretty great, too.
Her breath caught as she ogled him from head to toe. She licked her lips, nodded, and in a whispery voice surrendered. “Oh, yes,” she exhaled. “And I?”
“All I ever wanted.” He ran his hands over her curves until he slipped a hand between her thighs, his fingers now doing what his tongue had done to her mouth. She arched upward and moved into him. Demanding whatever he’d give.
“Take me,” he asked. And she did, guiding him to where his fingers were.
“Need protection. Hold the thought.” He sought her lips in a demanding full-mouthed kiss, all tongue and hot desire, and slipped from her arms.
She panted and rocked. Waiting for him.
He retrieved a packet from his wallet. She covered him.
Bells blared as he eased into her. They both heard it. She stiffened. He pulled away.
Embarrassed she inched away from him, slow to reorient herself to a more practical place. The phone, not bells. She grabbed it, knowing that she couldn’t ignore it, and heard Vince’s voice.
“There has been a mugging and an attempted robbery in the infirmary at Northland. The guard tried to apprehend the guy. Fortunately, Horace called 911 before he encountered the assailant. “Horace has been admitted to the emergency room in critical condition.”