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CHAPTERSEVEN
Joey took a seat,drumming her feet on the floor as she leaned forward to share her idea. It had come to her while sitting in the insufferably long meeting with Patrick and the rest of the Technology Division before she’d been summoned to Cole’s office anyway. Technically, she hated being summoned, but in this case it had been a rescue more than anything. The meeting was Patrick’s information sharing meeting, passing along updates from other departments and from the executive staff, and getting updates on ongoing projects.
Every Tuesday afternoon, he gathered the entire division and they shared anything new.
Joey could understand the purpose of the meeting, but sitting through it was pretty torturous. Especially since she wasn’t a real employee. She’d actually been on the edge of falling asleep when Jan’s call had interrupted.
Right now, though, she was buzzing with energy. “I want you to be ready to send a memo to your team of directors, hinting at a big development in the research along with whatever other normal updates you give. Tell them to disseminate the information like they normally would–meetings or emails.”
She’d spend some additional time tonight in the server to get some details together. Then she and Cole would lay a trap. With some strategic memos, some false test results, and a little program to sniff out the culprit, she was fairly confident it would work. “Basically, we want to lay the groundwork that there is something big going on. The mole won’t be able to resist. When someone bites, we’ll know who it is.”
Cole pursed his lips in thought. “What if no one takes the bait? If they know the results are fake?”
She pursed her lips and jerked a shoulder. “Then they must be exceptionally close to the research. Close enough to know that you are making it up.”
Cole drummed his fingers on the desk. “What if the note to the research team is a little different? Something about successful external trial results?”
Now they were talking. She didn’t get too much of the collaborative problem solving in her role at BTS. This was kind of fun. “Yes, that could work really well. They’ll make a ton of noise in the system trying to track down a fictional trial.” Her mind was racing, thinking of everything she would need to get in place for the trap to work. “I need a week or two to lay the groundwork. I’ll keep you posted.” She grinned at Cole, unable to hide her enthusiasm about the plan.
Cole nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
Her smile faded instantly at his words.
Dismissed? It was a bit like the principal’s office. There was no doubt Cole Kensington was used to being in charge, commanding each meeting he took part in. “I’ll go when I’m ready,” she replied cheekily, letting her smile return and challenging him to push her away again.
Cole leaned to look around her, and she turned to follow his gaze. The huge pile of boxes came into view as she turned. A laugh nearly escaped.
Did he realize how funny she was?
Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t. That was a shame. Someone needed to lighten him up.
But not her. Definitely not her.
She flushed at the realization that she had essentially been flirting with the man she was investigating. Secretly. While pretending to be his ally.
She needed to get a grip. She was not his type. More importantly, he wasn’thertype. Who wanted someone handsome, successful, and generous anyway?
Not her. Especially when it came with a side of dishonesty and corruption.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her expectantly. “Take your things and go, Miss Rodriguez. You’ve got work to do, remember?”
Drat. Kensington was right. No matter how much more fun it would be to stay here and ruffle his feathers–or better yet, start putting things in place for their trap–she did have things to do. Especially if she was going to have late-night access to the server room. She wouldn’t be able to steal Ben’s access card after hours.
Making as much noise as possible, she gleefully ripped into a box and pulled out the package of pens inside. Then she repeated the process with each box, finding all the paperclips and notebooks—and computer equipment—she had ordered. She couldn’t help but chuckle. No matter what stick was up Cole’s rear end, this was funny.
While she worked, Kensington never said a word, but she felt his eyes on her every minute of the task. As she retrieved her items from their hilariously oversized packages, she broke down the boxes and stacked them neatly near the entry of his office.
She slid her hand along the seam of a box after she slit the packing tape. A sharp stinging made her jerk her finger away. “Oh, ouch!” She dropped the scissors so she could squeeze her finger with the other hand.
When she tentatively pulled it away, blood rushed to the surface and out of the surprisingly jagged cut between the second and third knuckle of her index finger. A paper cut. Or cardboard cut. Whatever it was called, all she knew was that it hurt like the dickens.
In seconds, Kensington was by her side. She turned away reflexively. “Let me see,” he said gently.
Joey held her injured finger close to her chest, squeezing tightly to relieve the pain. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just a nick.” It wasn’t just a nick, but she wasn’t going to let him see her as weak.
“Don’t be stubborn, Joey.” His voice was laced with exasperation and concern.
Reluctantly, she held it out and released her death grip.
