Susan Crosby - Almost A Honeymoon

“He’s a mind reader. Be careful what you think.”

“He’s joking, of course, miss. I hope the clothing is as much to your liking.”

She dug into a bag and withdrew a cream cable-knit sweater that would fall mid-thigh, soft blue jeans and a teal T-shirt and matching leggings. Two simple white cotton-knit camisoles, saved from being merely undershirts by their skinny shoulder straps, tumbled out next. Further investigation yielded white sneakers, size nine, narrow, and three pairs of slouchy socks. Everything looked as if it would fit.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “How did you know my size?”

Rye grinned mutely at him, seemingly daring him to answer.

Lloyd’s expression never changed. “I have an eye for such things.”

“I’ll say. Good taste, too,” Paige said. “What’s in the box?”

“Chocolate chip cookies, miss. Homemade. From Mrs. MacKenzie, sir.”

Rye carefully set down the sandwich he’d been about to take a bite of. “She doesn’t know—”

“Of course not, sir. She has been on a baking binge and forgot I can’t eat chocolate. Let me see if I have her words correct...I believe she said something about domesticity being the pits.”

Rye chuckled. “That’s my Kani.”

“Who’s Kani?” Paige asked as she sprung the lid on her salad.

The phone rang. Rye snatched it up.

“Yeah?... Put him through. It’s your dad,” he said to Paige as he waited for the connection to be made. “Patrick, what’s up?... Did they trash the place?... Do you want to bring the police in on it?... Keep me current. I’ll let you talk to Paige.”

“Dad?” She clutched the receiver with both hands.

“Somebody broke into your house, honey.”

“Oh, God! My presents! Did they take the presents?”

“Well, it’s kinda crazy. Not much seems to be disturbed. I came to add water to the Christmas tree stand like you asked. The door wasn’t shut tight.”

“Ask him if they took your address book,” Rye said to her as he paced, thinking.

“I heard him,” Patrick said. “Where do you keep it?”

“In my drop-leaf desk in the living room. Nothing was destroyed? Are the presents under the tree?”

“I count about fifteen.”

“That’s probably all of them. Can’t you find my address book? It’s around six inches square, sort of peach colored.” She could hear him rustling papers.

“Don’t see it.”

“He says it’s gone,” she said to Rye.

“What about at work? Anything missing? A Rolodex, maybe.”

“Tell Rye I’ll call when I get back to the office.”

Rye extended his hand. “Let me talk to him. Patrick, listen, if something’s gone from her desk, question everyone about who might have had access today. Maintenance men, delivery people, anyone who’s not employed by you. If you come up empty, have your security people start running traces on your newest employees and work backward. Call me anytime... She’s fine here with me. I promise. Even if they’ve got her Rolodex and can get my address, they won’t be able to track us... Let me know as soon as possible.”

Rye hung up the phone and followed Paige’s movements as she paced in front of the hearth. “Don’t you have an alarm in your house?”

She fired a glare at him. “No.”

“A woman alone, in a big city?” he pressed.

“It’s a quiet neighborhood. I’ve never had any problems.”

“It only takes once.”

“Look, Mr. Secret Agent Man, I’m upset enough without you criticizing my home security—”

“Or lack thereof.”

“Indeed.” Ice formed around the word.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a system. They’re so easy to install.”

“They’re expensive.”

Rye frowned. “Expensive? A thousand dollars for peace of mind and safety? I’d say they’re a bargain.”

She gestured impatiently. “Of course you would. You think flying first class is a necessity. “

“Well, now that you’ve seen me, you must understand why I need plenty of room.”

“I’m not responsible for your gene pool, Warner. I just pay the bills. We spring for business class on international flights. If you want royal accommodations, you pay the difference.”

“It wasn’t like that before you took over as comptroller.”

“What can I say? I run a tight ship. We haven’t lost money since I took over, either.”

“That’s because you’re a—”

“I used to design women’s clothing.”

Lloyd’s firmly enunciated words drowned out whatever insulting tag Rye was going to apply to Paige. They both stared at him.

“What did you say?” Paige queried.

“I said I used to design women’s clothing. That’s why I could estimate your size easily.”

Paige eyed him, noting the slightest show of tension and deciding their argument had made him uncomfortable. “I apologize, Lloyd. We always fight like this. It’s just the first time face to face. It’s harmless.”

Rye snorted. “Oh, yeah. I know it always makes my day. I really look forward to our conversations. “

Her gaze flickered to him as he swept up his notepad and stared at the words there. It struck Paige that she had enjoyed their discussions. In fact, the last few times she’d called him to request receipts for his expenses and more detailed information about his invoices, her heart had pumped loudly in anticipation. She had begun to enjoy hearing him say, “Oh, for God’s sake, Harry,” when she questioned a ten-dollar breakfast or a cab fare he couldn’t confirm with a receipt.

She had forced him into a better accounting of his expenses, but, in truth, she didn’t want him to get perfect at it—so she occasionally changed the rules.

Not that he didn’t get even once in a while. There was the time he had submitted a bill in paragraph form instead of an itemized list, forcing her to unearth the charges from a field of words. She’d paid the bill with forty-nine separate checks, one for each item, forcing him to endorse each check separately and complete several bank deposit slips. The bank had called her about it, curious and annoyed, but he had returned to a more standard statement format the next time.

She always found fault with his bill, but she had never really questioned why, until now. She’d have to give it some thought tonight while she took her bubble bath.

Paige and Rye ate in silence as Lloyd called housekeeping to request clean towels, then busied himself straightening the rooms before unboxing Paige’s printer and helping her set it up. She asked him if he could wait an hour or so until she finished the project she’d spent the morning working on and could print up a copy to send to the office.

“I’m at your disposal.”

“If you’d like something to read, I have a couple of magazines—”

He held up a hand. “I just realized that I forgot something, miss. I’ll return in an hour.”

“Oh. Okay. I hate putting you out.”

“Think nothing of it, miss.”

She watched him exit the room, the door closing on a whisper behind him, before she returned to the computer.

“Was Lloyd telling the truth or was he just trying to distract us?” she asked Rye later as he hung up from his umpteenth phone call.

“The truth?” He continued to write, her interruption barely breaking his concentration.

“Did he design women’s clothes?”

Rye looked up and grinned. “Again, I’ll leave the telling to him. He’s had a checkered career.”

Paige leaned an elbow on the table and propped her chin on the heel of her hand, considering. “Why don’t you just leave me here with him and go about your business? It’s obvious that’s what you need to do.”