Finders Keepers Part 11

She left on her exit line, slamming the door behind her, then quickly emptied her desk and walked out of the corporate offices of TXX Computers with her head held high.

She fumed all the way to her town house apartment and, when she'd entered her home, she tossed the personal belongings she'd emptied from her desk and let her emotions fly.

"d.a.m.n! d.a.m.n! d.a.m.n!"

Tears poured as temper raged. A vase she'd purchased in Rangoon last year shattered against the dining room wall. Good china she'd picked up on her last trip to England went in all directions. There was no stopping the rage once she let it overwhelm her. Most times Carly Jordan refused to admit it, but the fact was, the one and only thing she could not control was herself.

When there was nothing left within reaching distance to break, she flung herself down upon the sofa and stared blankly at the muted ceiling lights, trying to think of a plan. Minutes pa.s.sed as the adrenaline rush subsided, and when she could think without seething, one clear, conscious thought emerged.

"Enrique Salazar!"

The dark-eyed Latin who'd tried unsuccessfully to woo her away from Marcus during their last cruise had lingered in her mind as well as something he'd whispered in her ear during a midnight dance. Something about persuasion and promises and all the lovemaking she could handle.

"What did I do with his card?" Carly muttered, heading for the drawer in the hall table where she usually put such things.

Mail lay at her feet, having been pushed through the drop slot in her door earlier in the day. She tossed it onto the table and then began to dig through the drawer. Fury renewed as she searched in vain.

"d.a.m.n!" She glared down at the stack of mail, knowing that it probably contained bills she would not be able to pay, then tried to think where the card could be.

Losing the connection to the man in black could be serious, and remembering his dark Spanish eyes and the way he'd been unable to keep his hands off of her delicate white skin and her ash blond hair renewed the vigor of her search.

For several hours, Carly's apartment and everything in it suffered total destruction before she remembered the jewelry pouch. Retracing her search of her bedroom, it didn't take long to find it, and when she did, tore into it with delight.

"Yes, Carly, you are a jewel!" she shrieked, laughing at her own pun. When she'd worn out the humor of the situation, she paced the floor in her bedroom, tapping the edge of the card against her lower lip as she began to formulate a new plan. "Now, Enrique, my darling, how do I go about letting you know that I couldn't get you out of my mind?"

With focused, single-minded intent, Carly Jordan sat with pen in hand and began to compose one of her more striking efforts at persuasion. An hour and two drafts later, she sat back with a firm smile on her face.

"Enrique Salazar, if you can resist this heartrending plea, then you're not the man I need."

She slipped the letter into a pale mauve envelope, sprayed a whiff of perfume into the air and then quickly waved the envelope in and out of the fragrant mist before affixing a stamp in the corner. Two steps down the hall from her front door was a postal drop. She hesitated at the slot, making the mailing something of an event.

"Here's to carnal knowledge, my darling," she sneered. "Forever may it reign."

The envelope disappeared down the chute and Carly did likewise into her room. It was three days later before she remembered the mail she'd tossed aside, and then another four before she spared the time to look. By this time, a staggering acc.u.mulation of letters were staring her in the face, as was the fact that next month's rent was due and she was nearly broke. All she could do was pray that Enrique Salazar was as good as his promises.

She sat down at her desk, checking to make certain that everything she needed was there before her. The letter opener was at hand, as was the wastebasket, and a vodka gimlet. If one didn't work, the latter certainly couldn't hurt.

One by one, Carly slit, read, and dispensed. There was little she could do with the major bills. She'd lived beyond her means for years and depended on the generosity of her "friends" for the rest. The bills she threw away. The wastebasket filled as she emptied the drink. And then she came to a single plain envelope with no return address, no company name, nothing but an Oklahoma City postmark. She frowned, opened it, and began to read.

"What in the...?"

That she was startled was putting it mildly. It had been over three years since she'd seen this name in print, and almost as long since she'd even given it-or him-a thought.

"Well, well, well! So, Joseph my love, what have you gone and done? Attached yourself to someone unsuitable? That doesn't sound like you."

She frowned, remembering the one time in her life she'd experienced true fear. Joseph Rossi had been the only man in her life she'd loved more than herself, and the only one she couldn't control.

"We would have been perfect together," she muttered. "You were good in bed, destined to be successful, and gorgeous to boot. You just couldn't get past your own d.a.m.ned childhood...or lack thereof...could you, Joseph, darling? If you'd let me take care of our little...problem'...my way...I wouldn't be having any of these problems now."

She shuddered, remembering Joseph's fury at her attempt to schedule an abortion. She'd been scared enough to chance ruining her figure and give birth, just for the opportunity to keep breathing. The whole process of childbirth had been disgusting. What she'd felt for Joseph Rossi had died when the child was born. She'd done all she could to thrust it, and him, from her mind forever-until now.

The letter was vague, mostly ramblings about the despair that Carly must be suffering at losing her child and how distraught she must be that said child was growing up without a proper mother's love.

She rolled her eyes at the thought of kids in general and wondered again who could have known about her connection to Joseph-or sent the letter.

"Ugh," she muttered. "Nothing but dirty pants and dirty faces and unending noise." She frowned, crumpled the letter into a wad, and tossed it into the wastebasket along with the rest of her life that she couldn't deal with.

The phone rang, and for a long, long moment, she considered letting her machine pick up the message. But she'd learned long ago that men hated to leave personal messages on such things, and she was in dire need of anything male and personal.

"h.e.l.lo?" Her voice was low, sultry, and perfectly practiced. And then the s.e.x slid out of her voice and a screech moved into place. "Well, the same to you, buddy," she screamed. "If I don't have the money, I can't pay. It's as simple as that. When I get it, you get it, until then, no deal. Get it?"

She slammed down the phone, buried her face in her hands, and moaned. Long strands of silky blond hair fell across her fingers as she thrust them angrily against her scalp. They caught and then pulled as they tangled in one of the rings she was wearing.

"Ouch!" she cried, then jerked, which only served to catch her hair tighter. She slid the ring from her finger. "d.a.m.n it. I should have tossed this years ago."

She muttered and cursed again, and then finally managed to work the hair out of the ring's setting. As she turned it toward the light, she stared, remembering the man and the occasion. Remembering that when she and Joseph had split, she'd kept the ring strictly for selfish, rather than sentimental, reasons.

"But...he doesn't know that," she told herself. The simple opal and topaz ring reflected the late afternoon light, winking and sparkling as she turned it first one way and then another. "As far as Joseph Rossi will know, I kept this out of undying love." She stared at the wastebasket overflowing with unpaid bills and then back at the ring. She thought of the answer she was expecting from Enrique Salazar and shrugged.

"I'll leave a forwarding address...just in case I get lucky. Joseph, darling, I've just decided that I can't live another day without you and our son." She smiled, but the joy did not reach her eyes. "And you are so very, very good in bed."

Molly slammed her car into PARK, grabbed the keys and the box on the seat beside her, and made a run for Joseph's office. She winced as her ankle caught the edge of the elevator door and tried not to curse as a pain shot all the way to her knee.

"Shoot," she muttered, and leaned down to rub it. "Joey Rossi, If I didn't love you and your daddy so much, I wouldn't be doing this."

The elevator stopped, and Molly bolted out through the doors as soon as they opened, continuing her mad dash toward Joseph's office.

Marjorie Weeks looked up and frowned as the door banged sharply against the inner wall, glaring at the woman who came in on the run.

"Miss Eden." Censure was thick in her voice.

Molly sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she'd yet to make a good impression on this woman.

"Sorry," she said, and shut the door more carefully than when she'd come in. "I'm late, and I didn't want to keep Joseph waiting."

"Mr. Rossi is on the phone," Marjorie said. "If you'll just have a seat, he'll be out shortly."

Molly nodded, then sat down, balancing the box carefully on her jeans-clad knees as she unzipped the top of her jacket. She caught Joseph's secretary staring at the box on her lap, and she smiled, hoping that this might be a key to breaking the ice between them.

"Cookies," she said.

"Excuse me?" Marjorie Weeks said.

Molly pointed to the box. "I said, I brought Joey's cookies." Then Molly continued as if the woman had expressed an interest in hearing more, when in actuality, she'd done exactly the opposite. "Today is the Halloween party at Joey's day care and Joseph forgot he'd promised to bring cookies. He called me about an hour ago. I called four bakeries before I found one that still had Halloween cookies for sale."

"If I'd known he needed cookies, I could have baked them myself," Marjorie said shortly. "I'm quite good at it, you know. I took a special course."

Molly's eyebrows rose, but she wisely did nothing other than nod knowledgeably. "They had to be in the shape of pumpkins," Molly offered.

"I have jack-o'-lantern cookie cutters in two sizes," Mrs. Weeks said.

"I wish we'd known," Molly said softly. "Yours would have been much more special to Joey than these...but we didn't think. Sorry...maybe next time...say Christmas?"

Marjorie's eyes lit up. For the first time since she and Molly met, a kind thought about her surfaced. A person couldn't be all bad who went to so much trouble for a child. She absorbed Molly's offer and finally answered, pursing her lips as she nodded.

"Maybe Christmas," she agreed.

"Molly, thank G.o.d you're here!"

Joseph's exit from his office was less than orderly. He leaned down, swooped the box of cookies from her lap, and started toward the door when he turned, came back and kissed her on the cheek. "And you're a lifesaver! Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She tried not to gape at his dimples and gave it up as a lost cause. When he smiled, he was impossible to ignore. "Don't thank me. The bakery at Homeland was your lifesaver. I was just the delivery boy."

Joseph couldn't help admiring her long-limbed grace as she uncoiled herself from the chair, and then grinned as she tried unsuccessfully to smooth down her unruly curls.

"And one of the prettiest delivery boys I ever saw. Don't you agree, Mrs. Weeks?"

Marjorie sniffed and managed a smile that seemed to satisfy her boss.

"I'll be back within the hour," he told his secretary. "Right now, I've got to buy my way out of a broken promise. Two dozen pumpkins coming up." He blew Molly a kiss and then he was gone, leaving a faint scent of sugar cookies and Stetson cologne behind him.

Molly and Mrs. Weeks stared at each other, then each looked away. There had to be some common ground somewhere between these two women, but for the life of her, Molly couldn't find it, and Marjorie Weeks didn't seem willing to look.

"I suppose I'd better be going," Molly said. "I still have a lot of deliveries to make, and I don't want to leave Cora alone at the shop too long. She's having arthritis really bad these days. I think it's the change in weather."

Marjorie's perfectly arched and drawn eyebrows peaked. She was surprised that this woman seemed sincerely concerned about one of her employee's comforts. Since Marjorie had suffered some similar complaints, she knew how miserable the pain could be. She watched Molly leave without further comment, but wondered, as the door went shut, if possibly-just possibly-she had misjudged her.

The memory of that letter she'd sent weeks ago to Carly Jordan surfaced, along with a definite twinge that she recognized as guilty conscience. Quickly, she turned to her desk, busying herself with the letters she had to transcribe, and pushed all worries out of her mind. After all, there was surely no need to fuss about that silly little letter. It had been so long. If the child's mother was going to come, she'd have already been here and gone.

"Daddy!" Joey shrieked, as Joseph walked into the center with the bakery box in his hands.

Joseph grinned, handed the box to Lila Forshee, and bent down and scooped Joey into his arms.

"My punkins!" Joey yelled at his friends, and pointed importantly to Lila's box. "Daddy broughts my punkins!"

Joseph grinned, stole a quick kiss, and then plopped his son down on the floor. "Thanks to Molly," he told Lila.

Lila grinned. "You seem to be doing that a lot these days," she teased.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Thanking Molly."

Joseph smiled softly. "Among other things," he said. And then he grew serious. "Frankly, I don't know what Joey and I would have done without her. She's become a very, very important person in our lives."

"I'm glad to hear that," Lila said. "Molly's a nice person. I'd hate to see her hurt-again." She saw Joseph's surprised expression. "We've known each other since college. I know the whole story. It wasn't her fault. He had all of us fooled."

Joseph frowned, his voice was just above a growl. "Don't look at me. I'd kill before I willingly hurt that woman. And I wish-just once-for the chance to meet up with the SOB who did hurt her."

Lila touched his arm. "Probably just as well if you don't."

The children's shrieks of excitement grew as one of the workers entered the dining area clothed in a sheet.

"I'd better go, now," she said. "The ghost is here. If I don't miss my guess, between too much excitement and too much sugar, I won't get a single child down for a nap."

Joseph laughed. "Thanks for the warning. I'll know what to expect when I pick him up this evening."

Lila waved good-bye as he made a hasty exit. Joey didn't even know that he was gone.

Joseph stood outside the door for a moment, looking back inside at the happy chaos of the children who ran wildly around the ghost who'd taken a seat in the center of the room. Joey was right in the thick of things, laughing and pus.h.i.+ng his way into place. And he wasn't even sucking his thumb. Joseph sighed. His son was growing up. And the holidays that signaled the end of a year kept coming closer and closer. One of these days, he was going to pin Molly Eden down to a happy-ever-after.

The wind whipped around the corner of her house just as Molly opened the front door. Her blue jeans and new white sweater were warm, and would be fine once she was at work. But the jacket she had on was no match for this biting wind. She s.h.i.+vered and made a U-turn in the doorway, trading the jacket for a heavy parka hanging in the hall closet instead. It was only the first week of November, but already Oklahoma City was experiencing its first taste of winter weather.

She looked up at the cold, gray skies, thinking that the predicted snow flurries might just pa.s.s them by if the front didn't come too far south, and headed for her car. There was no need to second-guess the weather. It did what it was going to do, and she did what she had to, to cope.

As she backed out of her driveway, she glanced at Joseph's house out of habit. It was old but stately, and it would look wonderful with a huge wreath of evergreens hanging on the front door-and maybe a big, fluffy red bow and some pine cones hot-glued in place. She could just picture it now. Refusing to admit that she was fantasizing about something that wasn't hers, she headed for the Garden of Eden. It was time to go to work.

Carly Jordan pulled over to the curb, glancing down at the map of Oklahoma City on the seat beside her, then back up at the numbers of the house across the street.

"So...here's where you disappeared to," she muttered, as she circled the location of Joseph's house on her map. "You're an awfully long way from Natchez, darling. What on earth were you running from? Me, I hope."

A woman exited the house where Carly had parked. When she saw her come out, she started to pull away, and then an intense curiosity, as well as the urge to know all the answers before the questions were asked, prompted Carly to get out and strike up a conversation.

"h.e.l.lo," Carly said brightly. "I wonder if you might be able to help me? I'm looking for Joseph Rossi's house. By any chance do you know where he lives? I think I'm in the right neighborhood, but I'm just not certain about-"

"Why, you're here and don't know it," the woman cried. She pointed across the street. "That's it. The one with the hedge. Are you family? He has the sweetest little boy. And the way he looks after him is so wonderful. It's not often you find a father who's also a single parent, you know." She winked to make her point.

Carly smiled thinly. Even hearing about the child's existence still angered her, as did the fact that Joseph was actually managing quite well alone.

"Of course," the woman continued, as if Carly had partic.i.p.ated in the conversation, "it probably won't be long before his single' status changes."

Carly's attention fine-tuned through the gossip to the stuff she might use. "Are you saying that he's dating?" she asked.

"I guess that's what they call it these days," the woman said. "And it's just too convenient for words."

"What do you mean, convenient?" Carly asked.

"He's been keeping company with the girl next door," the woman said. "She's a real sweet thing. I've known her all her life. Why, her mother and I were the best of-"

"What's her name?" Carly asked, staring at the house next door, trying to imagine Joseph and anyone in the throes of pa.s.sion, and decided the image p.i.s.sed her off.

"Molly Eden," the woman said. "She owns a flower shop called the Garden of Eden-get it? Eden...Garden of..."

In the middle of the dialogue, Carly turned and walked back to the car, slid behind the wheel, and drove away. She didn't bother to look back. If she had, she would have seen an expression of surprise on the woman's face. But she wouldn't have cared. What she'd learned wasn't the best of news. But at least there would be fewer surprises when she got down to business.

"So...there's a Miss Molly in your life, my dear, dear Joseph." Carly's face was angry as she turned the corner. "Exactly where will she figure in my plans...and better yet...how can I use her to my advantage?"

Carly headed down the street, searching for a clean but less-than-ostentatious motel, and decided that another day of reconnoitering before the surprise attack wouldn't hurt.