The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance (21 page)

The sound of the shower reassured Dan that she was still there, so he started to get ingredients out of the fridge. Apart from toast and coffee, he had exactly one dish he could make with confidence. He glanced at the clock. He had to assume Meghan was as efficient in the shower as she was in the office, so he’d better get going.

The frittata went under the broiler just as she came out of the bedroom. She was rubbing a towel on her hair. She folded the towel and laid it carefully over the back of the sofa. She ran her fingers through her hair, which dribbled damply over her shoulders.

She wasn’t trying to look sexy and enticing, but something about her arms pulled her T-shirt tight against her breasts, outlining her nipples faithfully. Dan’s mouth felt dry for a second before he had to swallow. He was literally salivating over this woman.

“What is that? And is it done? I’m starving.”

“What—? Oh, the frittata. Yes, it’s done.” He yanked open the oven door. Thank God she’d said something or they’d have been picking burnt cheese off the eggs.

He brought the plates over to the table.

She stared at her plate as though she’d never seen food before. “Wow. You made this? I mean, of course you did. I’m just impressed.”

“Don’t. It’s the only thing I can make. Shana enjoyed cooking more than—” He stopped suddenly and plopped down onto his chair.

Meghan took a sip of her orange juice. “Shana?”

Dan could feel his cheeks heating up. “Yeah. My girlfriend in law school. We tried to make a go of it for a couple of years after law school, but…” He picked at his frittata. “I should probably tell you about her. I mean, about our relationship.”

She put a hand over his. “I didn’t expect you to be a virgin, you know. In fact, I’m glad you weren’t.”

“No, of course not. But you have a right to my honesty, and I just don’t know when’s the best time to mention stuff like this.” If she pressed, he’d explain the complication that Shana represented.

Meghan shrugged. “Hey, the past is in the past, right?”

Dan considered this. Just a few more weeks and that would be true enough. Okay. “Yes. Yes, the past is in the past.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, she did all the cooking. But I liked to make her brunch, so I had to learn something I could make in lots of different ways. It would have been omelets except they’re too fussy. This is easier.”

“I can’t cook,” she admitted. “This tastes fantastic.”

When she smiled like that, Dan felt heroic just for making breakfast.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Do you want to stay for the morning? I’ll let you have the Times crossword,” he offered.

She stiffened. Not a lot, just a tension about her shoulders. She stopped eating but didn’t look up.

Dan waited, hoping she’d stay for the day, maybe even overnight again.

“You’ll let me do the crossword?” She flicked him a look—uncertain, anxious.

He nodded solemnly.

“Okay.”

Kassie must have been listening for the sound of the key in the lock because her head popped out before Meghan had even opened the door to her apartment.

“Tell me all about it,” Kassie said.

“What?”

Kassie propped her hip against the doorframe. “You’ve been gone for days. Somewhere nice?”

“Massachusetts.” Then, before Kassie could ask the next question, Meghan added, “For work.”

“Oh. Bummer.”

“Do you want to come in for a few minutes?” The invitation was out of Meghan’s mouth before she could consider whether it was even a good idea.

“Hell yeah. Let me get my beer. D’you want one?”

“No thanks.” For some reason, Meghan thought of the wine Dan had served with dinner the previous night. She’d been more abstemious than on Friday, but still he’d had no trouble bringing her to—

“Okay, I’m all set.” Kassie followed Meghan into her apartment. She looked around. “Wow, it’s so…tidy.”

“Empty, you mean.”

“Well, um, spartan?”

Meghan wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom, Kassie trotting along like a friendly dog. She plopped herself on the bed while Meghan started to unpack.

“See? You’re so sensible. Black trousers go with everything,” Kassie said as Meghan pulled out another pair. “But you should consider dark brown as well. That would go with all those lovely russet tones I bet you have, what with your coloring.”

Meghan laughed. “I have what’s on sale, pretty much regardless of color.”

“No. I know you’re kidding.” Kassie jumped off the bed and joined Meghan in the tiny walk-in closet. “See? No pastels. You must have good instincts—they’d look insipid on you.”

Meghan stopped, the laundry hamper lid in one hand and soiled clothes in the other. She looked at her blouses, hung carefully on padded hangers to prevent creases. She’d never considered it, but Kassie was right. No pastels. “Hunh. I never noticed.”

“Told you.” Kassie went back to the bed, where she pulled the pillows out from underneath the sheet and arranged them behind her back. “So who’s the man?”

Meghan froze. “Excuse me?”

Kassie pulled the elastic off her ponytail, then bundled her hair into a messy bunch and wound the elastic around that. “You slept with someone.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your hair.”

No way. “Okay, explain that to me. What about my hair? It’s clean.”

“Of course it is,” Kassie agreed soothingly. “It’s also wavy. You didn’t pack your own hair dryer, so that tells me you used the one at the hotel. But not this morning. So you weren’t at the hotel this morning. You were at some guy’s apartment, and he doesn’t own a hair dryer.”

“Have you thought about going into criminal investigations? You’d be good at it.”

Kassie laughed. “Only if the crimes can be solved by attention to details of clothes or hair. I’m only clever about the shallow stuff.”

Meghan chuckled as she zipped the empty suitcase and lifted it onto its shelf in the closet. When she returned to the bedroom, Kassie shifted over and patted the mattress next to her. Meghan shrugged and settled in next to Kassie. They sat with their backs to the wall.

“The man?” Kassie prompted.

A sudden desire to talk to someone pushed at Meghan, like a wave trying to knock her over. So odd and not something she was familiar with. More firsts.

She took a deep breath. “His name is Dan. He’s a lawyer at the firm. He just started—wow, can it really only be three weeks ago?”

“You work fast, girlfriend.”

Meghan nodded. “I guess so. Or he does. I’m not sure who made the first move.”

“At the hotel?”

Meghan turned her head to stare at Kassie. “Seriously, if you need a change of career, let me know.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Yes, at the hotel. We’d been working in his room, then I was leaving and he reached for the doorknob at the same time I did, and before I knew what was happening, we were kissing.” Meghan pulled in some air. “It was nice.”

“So you did it there? Hotel sex can be nice.”

“No condoms.”

“What the fu—? Neither of you had rubbers?”

Meghan shrugged. “I don’t know about Dan, but it’s been years since I needed any.”

“Hunh.” Kassie leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “I think that’s a good detail. Like, if he’d had some, and especially if they’d been new, you know, then what would that say about him?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so no condoms. How’d you end up at his place?”

“He invited me. We flew back on Friday, worked a little, then went to his apartment.”

“Ooh, tell me about his apartment.”

“It’s nice but he hasn’t been there long,” Meghan said. “So there’s furniture and curtains on the windows, but lots of boxes still need to be unpacked.”

“And you stayed a second night.”

Meghan could feel herself blushing. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good in bed, was he?”

The blush turned fiery. “I think so.”

Kassie’s emphatic nodding made the bed rock. “What size do you wear?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re slim but not short. I’m guessing a four. You really should be a six, though.”

“I’m too thin.”

Meghan expected Kassie, who was hardly plump herself, to say something about one could never be too rich or too thin.

“Probably. Stress, right? The romance won’t make that any better.” Kassie was off the bed and out the door before Meghan could respond.

She got up slowly—strange how sore she felt—and wandered out to see what Kassie was up to.

“This stuff is terrible for you,” Kassie said, holding up a packet of ramen noodles.

“But cheap.”

“Mmm. Let me think about that.” The blonde head disappeared into Meghan’s pantry. “This is better.” She came out holding a can of soup. “Low sodium. That’s good. But really you shouldn’t be eating processed food.”

“Look, I appreciate the advice, but I can’t afford to buy all new clothes in a larger size,” Meghan said.

Kassie stopped shifting containers and slowly withdrew from the pantry. “Oh, lord, I’m sorry. I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

Doing what? Interfering in a near-stranger’s life? “Well…”

“I have this compulsion to solve people’s problems.” Kassie looked contrite. “It probably keeps me from thinking about—well, never mind about that.”

“No, I want to mind about that, whatever ‘that’ is.”

Kassie plunked herself into the lone armchair, leaving Meghan to sit in her desk chair. Swiveling around, she could see how spartan her apartment really was. Barely enough furniture for one person, let alone two. What would Dan think of it?

Kassie had pulled her hair loose from the elastic, roughly split it into two halves and was braiding the pigtails. Meghan went into her bathroom and returned with an elastic. “Here.” She handed it over.

“Thanks. I get nervous. That’s when I play with my hair. It’s hell at work, where I have to look tidy and appropriate all day.”

“I love your hair. Like blonde angel floss.”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

Meghan waited while Kassie gnawed on her lower lip. Then Kassie straightened. “It’s stupid. My dad’s been sleeping with someone from work. It’s breaking my mother’s heart. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Oh, God, that’s horrible.”

Kassie grimaced. “Yeah, well, thanks. I mean, it’s shitty, but it’s really no excuse to try to fix everyone else’s life.”

“No, but I appreciate that you told me why.”

“So you forgive me from poking around your cupboards?”

“Of course.”

Meghan scribbled as fast as she could. “Taking incoming message into the buffer…”

“Meghan!” Vicky Womack stood in the doorway, having rapped twice.

“Oh, Mr. Agnarsson, could I put you on hold just for a moment?” Meghan said into the phone.

“Sure,” Greg Agnarsson said.

“What can I do for you, Vicky?” Meghan asked as pleasantly as she could manage. She really didn’t want to lose this guy.

“Where’s my database printout?”

Meghan forced a smile. “I put it into interoffice mail this morning, first thing.”

The redhead looked disappointed. “Well, I don’t have it. I need it.”

What a crock. “Shall I call your assistant and see if she’s got it for you? Or would you like me to print out another copy?”

“What’s the problem, Vicky?” Dan asked, strolling into the frame of the doorway.

“Oh, Dan, thank goodness you’re here.” Vicky’s voice dropped an octave and softened like gooey toffee. She turned toward him, her body seeming to quiver with enthusiasm. “Meghan’s lost my database, and I really need it for those interrogatories you requested.”

Dan’s head tilted slightly. “Can’t you access the database? I know I can. C’mon, we’ll go get Tessa make you a new copy.” He waited for Vicky to precede him. Once she walked away, he winked at Meghan.

She smiled as she went back to the phone. “Mr. Agnarsson, I’m so sorry about that interruption. You were explaining about the buffer overflow?”

“Hey, no problem. I’m retired. No place to go, nothing to do. Kind of fun to talk over old times.”

“Great. I’m enjoying it too. So, you’d explained about the code necessary to deal with the overflow of a text message, how it had to be stored someplace?” Meghan went back to her notepad, already covered with information. She prayed she’d be able to make sense of it all when she got off the phone.

Three hours later, she called Dan.

“Hey,” he said.

“I found it.”

“What? Sycophanta’s heart?”

Meghan swiveled around to check that her door was shut. It was. “Very funny, but no. I’ve found the key to getting ProCell dropped from the case.”

“That’s gre— Wait, I thought we wanted to get them severed.”

Meghan wanted to dance, she was so thrilled. “I think we can get the plaintiffs to drop ProCell entirely.”

Silence.

Finally, Dan spoke very slowly. “Okay, I know you mean that, but that’s going to require plaintiffs’ counsel to agree to drop them. They’ve got the FCC case, why would they drop ProCell when they can show ProCell paid the FCC fine?”

“By giving plaintiff’s counsel—and the Feds—a Sherman Act case.”

She could hear Dan whistle at the thought of an antitrust violation—proof that the defendants conspired to fix prices. That would generate punitive damages…and a lot more money for the plaintiffs. “No way.”

Meghan grinned. “Pretty sure. I’ll need to collect some evidence, but yeah, I think we’ve got a smoking gun against Argus and Tech 3.”

“Get over here now. I’ll tell Tessa to hold my calls.”

Meghan gathered up her notes—the original sheets and her carefully typed out transcriptions—and walked around the corner to Dan’s office.

He was on the phone when she walked in.

“I’ll call you as soon as I’m free.” Pause. He waved Meghan over to a chair. “Great. Will do. Bye.” He hung up.

“Okay, hold on.” He shut the door then returned to his chair. “Start at the beginning, okay? I’m still pretty stupid on this case.”

She took a deep breath. “Remember we talked with Vince Johnson about how Jenner had the number three spot in the market but then they went bankrupt? Argus and Tech 3 stayed in the top two spots, while ProCell rose up to take over Jenner’s spot?”