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Seven o’clock, the halls of Killian Management were dark, except for the night lights. She’d sent the staff home, what remained of it. After declaring her convictions about her business to Alex Kozak earlier that day, everything that could have possibly happened to squash those convictions happened. Those ‘possibilities just inches from her grasp’ were disappearing with such remarkable speed, she had to confess to herself the likelihood that Reg and Alex and all her other advisors were right.
Truth hurt, like the nightmares of her death dreamed almost nightly for several weeks. Hurt, like losing a lover to some mercurial destiny she couldn’t control. Hurt, like having friends once close to her turn their backs and snicker over her misfortune.
What there was to do in the dark of her beloved but tainted office was not much except to grieve. Hearing the sound of a door opening and soft footfalls on the linoleum corridor, she perked. With the security guard on duty she had little to fear, except, of course, another dour message of her demise delivered by some night owl with a predilection for dramatic announcements in the quiet after-hours when she should have some reprieve.
It was a stranger at the doorway of her office. One with an effervescent smile that shone through her gloom. With her second look at him, she recognized the man though struggled to remember why.
“My god, Ian Pennywhistle!” she exclaimed, charging from her desk to greet him.
“Shush!” he drew his finger over his mouth like a naughty kid.
“Why so quiet?” she whispered feeling the first genuine smile in weeks break out on her excited face.
“I bet the authorities have been here, no?”
Remembering Trueblood, the detective who visited her two weeks before with all too much information, she replied, “How did you know?”
“The man’s everywhere, must be related to the Pinkertons.”
Jocelyn laughed, something she remembered doing often when she was in Ian’s company.
“How did you find me?”
“I’m afraid you’re becoming as notorious as I am.”
“Oh, no,” she sighed. She shouldn’t be surprised remembering how her fortunes had been linked with Ibercon’s numerous times in the financial pages.
“You do you remember that I read the papers thoroughly, especially when it involves money. Who has it, who doesn’t. Great clues to who has it to lose.”
“So you’re still involved in larceny?”
“Not really,” his eyes knit painfully and he shook his head sadly. “I’m trying to straighten out my life.”
“So you revisit a woman down on her luck?”
“But such a beautiful woman,” he observed, resting his eyes on Jocelyn’s untamed locks and pink blushed cheeks.
Drawing her close to him so their chests touched, he looked down while she looked up. With Ian nearly six feet four there were few women he didn’t dwarf. A bit gangly but very masculine. Anyone noting his appearance could see that he was much more powerfully built than a first impression would indicate. It was his height that was deceiving. A long face, narrowed features, bushy graying eyebrows over eyes seeming black as coal, he maintained an old quality about him. His gray/brown hair was still an unruly bush. Several locks above his brow would threaten to fall over his eyes and he’d push them back with a flick of his hand. He was not handsome in the classical sense. Though simple, raw power exuded from him that lured women like Jocelyn into a delicious bath of sexual charm.
He kissed her lightly, erotically, that painfully held back brushing of lips that precedes deeper kisses.
“Ah, you still have such appeal,” he said.
A hand was at her breast, fully covering the orb beneath her jacket. The gentle massage stimulated her to the far corners of her body. Her hair felt as though it was standing on end, so warmly titillated by the fresh delight of Ian’s unexpected return. He’d found her nipple through the fabric, that tiny bud crushed lightly between two fingers.
“And you respond the same as always,” he added.
“But I can’t,” she answered backing away from what could have produced an orgasm in a few minutes time. No one but Reggie had such instincts with her body. “I’m married.”
“And what’s the problem with that?”
She returned with a sweet ‘I’m sorry’ on her face.
“You mean you’re monogamous?” he asked surprised.
“Not exactly, but it wouldn’t be a good idea tonight.”
“Ah, I see. Paying penance for past infidelities.”
