Accidental Slave (17 page)

She was still wearing the blouse from her suit and a half-slip. She rushed into the bedroom, took off the slip and pulled on some jeans. The doorbell sounded and she went to open it, figuring she looked as good as she was going to at that point.

Cole stood at the door with a large box of chocolates with red ribbon around it. “For you.”

He held it out to her.

She took it, laughing. “How did you know I’m on a special chocolate diet?”

“Never met a woman who wasn’t,” he teased. She led him in, feeling better than she had all day. Somehow when Cole appeared, things didn’t seem quite so bleak.

“Nice place.” He looked around. “Cozy.”

Elizabeth set the chocolates down on the coffee table in front of the loveseat. “You mean tiny. But yeah, I like it. Thanks.” They stood smiling at one another. Then Cole held out his arms and she stepped into them, grateful for his firm, masculine embrace. He didn’t try to kiss her, perhaps sensing she only wanted to be held at that moment.

She leaned against him, feeling at least for the moment protected and safe. The whole hideous situation leapt into her mind and tears sprang into her eyes. What a mess everything was.

She pulled back with a sigh.

Cole peered at her, his expression concerned. “So tell me what happened. How come you left in the middle of the day? Did you get my calls?”

She sat on the sofa and leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. He sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She willed herself not to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not going to act like a pathetic, helpless little girl in front of Cole.

Instead she lifted her head and turned to him, trying to smile. “I didn’t get your calls, sorry. I was, uh, sleeping. The buzz of the intercom is what woke me up, actually.”

“Sleeping? Are you sick? Can I get you something?”

“A gun to kill Gary Dobbins with. Have you got one lying around?”

She outlined the events of the morning, feeling her blood pressure ratchet up as she repeated each horrible detail. Cole didn’t interrupt, though he shook his head throughout most of her story.

When she was done, still he said nothing. Cole sat back, pondering. “There’s always that one detail,” he said slowly. “That one thing the criminal does that is his undoing. At least that’s the case in the murder mysteries, right? Gary’s been awfully smug throughout this whole thing, but he’s bound to have made at least one mistake. All we have to do is figure out his mistake and we can nail his ass.”

“That’s all, huh,” Elizabeth retorted dryly. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Hey, Miss Smartass, I’m serious. Let’s go over the events carefully and think things through. First of all, there’s your domain password. How did he get it? You didn’t have it written down somewhere, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. There’s no way he could have gotten it. Not even our tech guys know the passwords. If you forget yours, they have to reset it for you—give you a temporary password until you go in and change it yourself.”

“Maybe he did that. Convinced a tech to reset your password and give him the information.”

Elizabeth shook her head dubiously. Cole continued, “Well, he obviously got them somehow, and he managed to hack into your computer, setting the scene of the crime by visiting various sex sites and leaving a trail in your history folder. We can’t prove he did that—it’s his word against yours, and his word carries more weight at the moment, since the stuff was found on your supposedly password-protected computer.”

Elizabeth stared glumly at Cole without responding. He went on. “It’s more of the same with the accusations about the club. He claims one thing, you claim the other, and he got to Wallace first and apparently was very convincing. He provides you with a motive—woman scorned—”

Elizabeth winced. “and backs it up with proof in the form of an email from you to him.”

“Yeah. Which really doesn’t prove anything, because if he hacked into my computer, why not my email too?”

Is the company’s email located on a server?”

“Yeah. But it’s also accessible via the Internet, from our website.”

“Can you log on now? Show me the email? It’s probably still in your sent folder.”

Elizabeth groaned. “I don’t even have access anymore. I got shut out for supposedly downloading porn. I left this morning in such a tizzy I didn’t even ask Art to give me the password he was given.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, refusing to let the tears building behind them come out. “The whole thing just makes me sick. The thought of that little prick, nosing around in my email, invading my personal files, violating my personal space…”

She dropped her head into her hands and this time the tears won out. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. That monster has ruined my career and I never saw it coming.”

“No he hasn’t. He’s just staked out the battle lines and now it’s our turn to fight back. Don’t forget—there are many battles in a war. And this, my dear girl, is war.”

~*~

Though it was after seven, there was a chance there were still people at work and Elizabeth steeled herself for that possibility. She reminded herself she had a right to be there. She hadn't been fired—yet. Cole palmed her elbow solicitously as they entered the wide doors of the offices of Wallace and Pratt. A few office doors were open but all the support staff was long gone.

Cole had convinced her to call Art and ask him to allow her access to the network. “I need to prove my innocence, Art. I’m asking you as a friend—please trust me for a few more days. If it turns out I can’t prove it, I’ll resign without protest.”

To her immense relief, Art had cleared it for her with the tech department, though it was obvious he was still in Gary’s camp. If she hadn’t had Cole by her side, Elizabeth knew she might well have given up altogether just to avoid the humiliation.

She took Cole to her office, moved toward her desk and booted up the computer. To her relief the system accepted the temporary password, which she promptly changed. She opened her email and clicked on the sent folder. The offending email had been sent at six-seventeen p.m. on Saturday, August ninth with a cc back to her own email address.

“Open a few other emails, if you don’t mind. I want to check the IP addresses against this one.” Cole frowned as he stared at the computer screen. “It was sent from the same IP address as your legitimate emails, but computers in the same office can share an IP address.” He looked at her. “What you need is for someone to check the web service logs and trace the transmission path back to the actual PC used. If we could prove it was sent from his computer, that would be pretty damning.”

“I could check with Nick,” Elizabeth offered. “He’s one of our IT guys.” She didn’t mention that Nick had a huge crush on her, though she’d never encouraged him. She paused as she realized the implication of asking for Nick’s help. “He’ll read it then, won’t he? He’ll read that horrible, disgusting email supposedly sent from Gary’s jilted lover.” She put her head in her hands.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Cole continued his war theme from earlier.

“Yeah, it’ll be embarrassing, but if it helps clear your name, it’s worth it. Dobbins is fighting really dirty. We have to fight back.”

She smiled at him, pleased despite the whole mess at his use of the word
we.
She reached for her phone and dialed Nick’s extension. When she got his voice mail, she left a message. “Hi Nick, it’s Elizabeth Martin. Listen, I have a very important favor. Could you check the email log files and track down an email sent from my email address this past Saturday at six-seventeen p.m. with the subject line of ‘Sorry’? I need to find out what PC it was sent from. If you could let me know, I’d really appreciate it. I didn’t write that thing and if I don’t find a way to prove it, I could be out of a job. Thanks for your help.”

She hung up and groaned. “If it
was
sent from my computer, we’re back at square one.”

Cole came behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Gently he kneaded the muscles, which were knotted and aching with tension. “We’ve done what we can for now. Let’s see what your IT guy comes up with.”

“Okay. And Cole, thanks. Thanks for putting up with all this crap. Not exactly the best foot forward in a new relationship.” She felt herself blushing and was glad he couldn’t see her face.

Had she just said that loaded word—
relationship
? They’d spent one night together. Why had she said that?

He continued to massage her shoulders, apparently unfazed by her use of the R word. “What that creep has done to you is unconscionable. It will be my distinct pleasure to help in any way I can to nail the bastard.”

The elevator touched down in the lobby and they stepped out. Cole was looking up at the ceiling. He turned back to Elizabeth, his face lit up. “What? What is it?” she asked.

“We’ve been over-thinking this thing. Forget computers and Internet Protocol and transmission logs. Focus on cameras. Good, old-fashioned security cameras.” He pointed toward the small cameras mounted on either side of the entrance, and a third pointing toward the elevators. “Building security should be able to review the film and see who entered and left the building on Saturday.”

“But I was there Saturday too.”

“Yeah, but not at the time the email was sent. You’d already left and this film could prove it.

Whereas, assuming he sent the email at the same time as he hacked into your computer,
he
would have still been here at six-seventeen, sending slanderous emails to himself in your name.

We prove he left sometime after that, while you left before it and I’d say that’s pretty definitive, wouldn’t you? Your IT guy’s corroboration would just be icing on the cake.”

Real hope began to surge through Elizabeth for the first time since the beginning of the whole ordeal. Impulsively, she reached up and wrapped her arms around Cole’s neck. She hadn't planned it, but his lips soon found hers. Her body relaxed and she let him hold her, his strong arms pulling her close as he kissed her. For a whole minute Elizabeth forgot everything except how good it felt to be in his arms. Then, recalling the cameras, their red eyes no doubt recording the embrace, she pulled away.

He drove her back to her place. “Want to come up?” Despite everything going on, Elizabeth wanted him. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to press her cheek against his manly chest, aswirl with dark hair that tapered down his flat belly toward his groin.

“I would.” He found a parking space not too far down the street, a small miracle in itself.

Once inside, Cole asked, “Have you had dinner? We could order something.” She was glad he hadn't suggested they stop and get a bite while he was driving her home. She was still physically out of sorts from drinking whiskey and sleeping most of the day away. Her head ached and her shoulder muscles were still knotted. Yet she was hungry, having eaten nothing since a small breakfast.

“I’m starving, now that you mention it. What would you think of my whipping up an omelet? It would be fast and easy.”
So then you could make love to me all the sooner.
He seemed to read the subtext in her eyes because he smiled a slow, sultry smile, his dark eyes glinting.

He stepped behind her, lightly massaging her shoulders. She sighed and leaned against him.

“That feels so good. I hate when I do this—hold tension in my body.”

“You need to let it go.” His fingers pressed into the twisted muscle and she closed her eyes in pleasure. “I have an idea. Why don’t you take a nice hot shower before we eat? Let the tension drain out of you. Just show me where things are and I’ll make the omelet.”

The thought of hot water spraying against her knotted shoulders sounded wonderful. And she loved the idea of someone else doing the cooking. “You talked me into it.”

Elizabeth’s theory that food always tasted better when someone else made it held true that evening. Cole had found and sautéed fresh mushrooms, which, along with grated cheddar cheese, he had added to the eggs. Elizabeth emerged from her shower to find hot buttered toast and a perfectly cooked omelet, along with a glass of chilled white wine.

She smiled gratefully at Cole. “You’re quite the chef, huh?”

“I’ve lived alone the last few years. Had to learn to fend for myself.” He smiled back and raised his glass. “You look beautiful, Elizabeth.”

She ducked her head, pleased. She had debated whether to dress again or not. After all, they both knew they were going to make love. Why pretend otherwise? She had opted for a pale blue satin nightgown with a low, square-cut neckline and its matching robe. She hadn’t washed her hair in the shower, not wanting to hassle with wet hair. Instead she’d pulled it back and pinned it loosely in a French braid, letting several errant tendrils frame her cheeks.

They ate in silence, soon finishing the delicious food. Cole poured them each a second glass of wine, both tacitly agreeing to leave the dishes until later.

Once in Elizabeth’s bedroom, which was about one-fifth the size of Cole’s, most of the space filled with her four-poster bed, Cole took Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her. “I want you,” he whispered. “I want to claim you.”

Elizabeth shivered, understanding from their earlier lovemaking that this meant more than a symbolic claiming. Was she ready for what he offered? Her body was aching with need for him, every nerve ending jumping with anticipation.

Impulsively, she pulled out of his embrace, dropping her robe to the ground, aware of his eyes on her breasts, the nipples clearly visible beneath the thin satin. She sank to her knees in front of him, any trace of lingering shyness burned away by her lust.

With greedy fingers, she pulled open his fly and dragged his pants down his strongly-muscled thighs. She noted with self-satisfied pleasure that his cock was fully erect. She glanced up at his face. He was staring down at her, his lips parted, his expression almost fierce. With her eyes locked on his, she pulled down his underwear, allowing his large, hard cock to spring free from its confines.