do was drive himself harder and harder.
Though they'd both grown up in blue-collar families, he'd worked hard to fashion himself into a worldly man. Sylvie still had a bit of neighborhood in her, a feisty, scrappy attitude that he respected. She was only a few years older, but there were times when he felt like a kid next to her. She'd already experienced so much more of life than he had. She had a life outside work, a husband and two kids.
'Mr. Kendrick?'
He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. 'Yes, I know. Can you tell him I'll call him back later?'
'I'm sorry, but you're the one who called him. Or I did, at your request. You wanted to know about that property in Southie. You told me to call him at 3:00 p.m. and it's three now.'
Rafe slowly turned. 'I don't want to talk to him, Sylvie. In fact, I really don't want to talk to anyone right now. Hold all my calls. And cancel all my meetings.'
She nodded, then walked out of the office. Rafe stared after her, a frown furrowing his brow. He'd known Sylvie for nearly ten years. She was a beautiful woman, yet he'd never once found himself attracted to her in any way beyond platonic or professional. What was it that made one woman undeniably alluring while another caused nothing more than brief consideration?
His mind returned again to Keely McClain, to the night they'd spent together nearly a month ago. He cursed softly at the unbidden images that flashed in his head. How many times had he thought of her over the past weeks? And how many times had he pushed those thoughts right out of his head, hoping to forget her?
His desk was covered with computer printouts and department reports. He sat down and began to sort through them, determined to focus on current business rather than old…pleasures.
'I'm sorry to interrupt again.'
Rafe glanced up. 'No, it's all right, Sylvie.'
She held up a box. 'These just arrived.' She walked in and closed the door behind her, then set the box on his desk. 'I thought you might want to see if they fit before you took them home.'
Rafe reached out and pulled the top off the shoe box. Beneath the tissue paper was a brand-new pair of loafers he'd ordered from Milan, to replace the shoes Keely had ruined. Christ, as if he didn't have enough reminders of her already, now he had fine Italian footwear. If he were a superstitious man, he might think she was haunting him. 'I'll try them on later.' He pushed the box aside.
'Is there anything I can help you with?' Sylvie said. 'Because you've been having a hard time getting things done lately. And you've been in a black mood for a month.'
'I've been busy,' Rafe said.
'You were supposed to review that stack of reports by last Friday and you haven't. Both Elliot and Samuelson have called wondering if they have the go-ahead on their projects.'
'Maybe if you'd take that damn promotion I offered you, then
Sylvie clucked her tongue, shook her head, then held out her hand. 'Pay up,' she said. 'Ten dollars times two.'
'
She wiggled her fingers. 'Pay up, Rafe.'
'That's Mr. Kendrick to you,' he corrected as he pulled out his wallet and withdrew a pair of ten-dollar bills.
Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement. 'Only when I'm within earshot of other employees. Remember, I knew you back when you owned three properties and couldn't get a bank to loan you a nickel so you'd have two to rub together.' She paused, her expression turning serious. 'Is it your mother?'
'She's fine.' He shook his head. 'And I meant to thank you for the flowers you sent for her birthday.'
'Then is it the business?'
Rafe shook his head. 'Really, it's nothing. I've just been traveling too much lately. Too much time sleeping on planes. Too many strange hotel rooms. I just need some rest.'
In truth, whenever he tried to sleep, he found himself thinking about Keely. She was like a drug. Now that he'd had a taste, he wanted more. But he thought if he fought the cravings hard enough, they'd go away.
He'd gone over that night again and again in his head. It wasn't the sex, though that had been pretty great. And it wasn't because she was some gorgeous piece of ass, though she was nice to look at. It was how she'd made him feel. For those few moments in just a single evening, he'd let down his guard, he'd forgotten all his anger and he'd been happy.
And then, he'd left for Detroit and returned to find her gone. There had been no answer in her room and when he had inquired at the desk, the clerk had informed him that Keely McClain had checked out early that morning. The note she'd left him only said that she had to get back to New York and that she'd call him the next time she was in Boston.
So she had waltzed out of his life as quickly as she'd waltzed in. And look where it had gotten him. This was the end of it. From now on, Keely McClain was part of his past, a past not worth dwelling on. 'You know, you could help me out,' Rafe suggested. 'Make some dinner reservations for tonight for two. Someplace quiet…romantic. Then call Elaine Parrish and tell her I'll pick her up at seven.'
The only way to put Keely McClain out of his head would be to replace her with another woman, someone prettier, more adventurous in bed. And the sooner the better.
'I'm afraid that wouldn't be a good idea,' Sylvie said.
'Why not?'
'Elaine announced her engagement three months ago. I read it in the paper.'
'Then find someone else. Anyone, I don't care.'
'Maybe that's your problem,' Sylvie commented.
Rafe sent her a stern look. 'Just do it. And take these shoes. Give them to your husband. If they don't fit him, give them to the Salvation Army. Just get them out of my sight.'
She grabbed the box and tucked it under her arm. 'Right away, Mr. Kendrick.'
But before she got to the door, Rafe stopped her. 'One more thing. They're having a party at my mother's hospital,' he lied. 'I told the staff that I'd arrange for the refreshments. I thought a cake might be nice. And some of that…you know, you put it in a big bowl and-'
'Punch?' Sylvie asked.
'Right.' He paused. 'And I was reading about this person in New York who makes unusual cakes for parties. I think the name was McClain. I'm pretty sure her bakery is located in Brooklyn. Can you see if you can track down a number? But don't call-let me. I'd like to discuss what she can do.'
Sylvie's eyebrow shot up. 'Since when do you talk to cake decorators?'
'Just find out more,' Rafe ordered. 'And if I were you, I'd think about taking that promotion. Before I fire you for insubordination.'
'You've been offering me a promotion for five years and I've been giving you crap for twice as long. And you haven't fired me yet.'
Rafe held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. 'Ten dollars. If
She slapped a ten into his hand, then stalked out of the office. He was glad Sylvie didn't want another job. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get along without her. Rafe leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. But a few seconds later, his intercom buzzed. He reached over and punched the button. 'Yes, Mrs. Arnold. What is it?'
'I have a number. I found a McClain's Bakery in Brooklyn and they do make party cakes.'
Rafe sat up straight. He wasn't sure whether he wanted Keely's number. Just a few minutes ago, he'd decided to move on, to find another woman to occupy his thoughts.
'Mr. Kendrick?'
'Just hold on to it for a while,' Rafe finally said. 'I'll let you know if I need her-I mean, it. The number.'
He sighed, then raked his fingers through his hair. His gaze fell on a stack of file folders sitting on the corner of the desk. 'Quinns,' he murmured. He'd collected all the information he needed to put his plan into action, yet in the past month he hadn't done anything to further his aims.
From now on, he intended to keep his eye on the ball. Nothing, not even Keely McClain, would keep him from his plans this time.
