How to Trap a Tycoon(68)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

His smile turned decidedly lascivious, though, upon hearing her admission. "I can’t stop thinking about the last couple of weekends we’ve spent together," he told her.

"Me neither."

"I think we should spend this weekend together, too."

"Do you?"

He nodded. "What say we get together after your shift and—"

"Dorsey."

Her head snapped around at the summons from Lindy Aubrey, coming as it did from immediately behind her. Oh, God, she thought. What if Lindy had just overheard what she and Adam had been—

"Come into my office. Now. You, too, Adam," her employer added. "You might be interested in what I have to say, as well."

Oh, yeah , Dorsey thought. Lindy had definitely overheard.

Adam threw Lindy a look that was filled with surprise, curiosity, and not a little resentment. "Hang on a minute, Lindy," he said. "There’s no need to—"

"There’s every need," Lindy countered. "Your presence in my office isn’t absolutely necessary for this," she said. "But you will most definitely find what I have to say interesting."

And then she spun around and walked to her office without a glance backward, fully confident that Dorsey and Adam both would follow her—or else. As, naturally, they would.

"Well," Dorsey said uncomfortably. "That was rather ominous." She inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly, preparing herself for what was sure to come. "I suppose she overheard us talking, and now I’m history here at Drake’s."

"Don’t borrow trouble, Mack," Adam cautioned. "I don’t see how she could have overheard what we said. She came out of nowhere. I mean, granted, I was looking at you, not behind you, but she was definitely sneaking around."

"Which means she did overhear," Dorsey concluded.

"Mack," Adam said softly, "if she did… Look, I’m sorry if I screwed things up for you here. Whatever happens, I’ll help you out however I can."

He reached across the bar to cover her hand with his.

Her first instinct was to pull away, but there was little point in objecting to his gesture now. They were made. Lindy was going to tell her to clean out her locker, and that would be the end of that.

It was just as well, Dorsey thought. Not because she had enough research to complete her dissertation reasonably well—which she did—but because she was tired of pretending to be something she wasn’t. She was tired of all the deceptions, all the dishonesty, all the lies. She was as tired of being Mack the bartender as she was of being Lauren Grable-Monroe. After she left Drake’s this evening she would tell Adam the truth about all of it. About how she’d come to work here in the first place to research her dissertation and about being Lauren Grable-Monroe, too.

Somehow, she would make him understand why she had felt obligated to keep him in the dark about everything. Somehow, she would explain her own fear of exposure and censure and rejection. Somehow, she would make amends for all the deception. And somehow, they would weather whatever repercussions ensued. They would have to.

They would just have to.

"If you want to wait out here," she told Adam, "I’ll certainly understand. Lindy’s a pretty intimidating person to face. And this really is my responsibility."

"The hell it is," he countered. "We’re in this together. We’re equally responsible. Whatever happens, Mack, I’m right there with you. And I will help you out, however you need it," he added, obviously telling her he’d make up whatever lost wages she might suffer.

She smiled at him, grateful for the rapidity and confidence with which he’d offered his support. She didn’t kid herself that she’d have her work cut out for her explaining things to Adam. But she was confident that once the two of them had a chance to talk things out, she’d be able to make him understand. As for her dissertation, she had enough research to complete it, and once it was defended, she was reasonably certain that the sociology department of Severn would find a place for her as a fulltime instructor.

It was all going to work out, she told herself as she ducked beneath the bar and joined Adam on the long, long journey to Lindy’s office. All of it was going to work out. For the first time in months, Dorsey felt hopeful. She felt peaceful. She felt good.

Until she strode into Lindy’s office with Adam right on her heels. Because as he closed the door behind them, Dorsey realized what had felt so wrong earlier, when she’d been in the locker room, changing her clothes. Only now did she recall that her notebooks—the ones containing all of her research on Drake’s—had been missing from the top shelf of her locker. She knew that without going back to check.

Because all of them were currently sitting atop her employer’s desk.

"I want you to clean out your locker and leave the premises immediately," Lindy stated without preamble. She stood behind her power desk wearing one of her power suits—charcoal with pinstripes this time—her hands fisted firmly on her hips. Normally, it was impossible to tell what Lindy Aubrey was thinking about, because she always kept her features carefully schooled in a bland expression. Tonight, however, her expression held nothing back. Tonight she was livid. Absolutely, utterly, completely livid. Tonight she looked capable of murdering someone.

No, not someone. Just Dorsey MacGuinness.

"I’ve taken the liberty of beginning the cleaning-out process for you myself," she continued, nodding at the notebooks, obviously straining to keep a civil tongue.

"So I see," Dorsey replied quietly.

"However," Lindy added, jabbing a finger now at the half-dozen notebooks on her desk, "don’t expect to be getting these back anytime soon. In fact, don’t expect to get them back at all."

Dorsey’s lack of calmness quickly shifted to apprehension. "Why not?" she demanded, her own voice nowhere near as controlled as her employer’s, regardless of how forced Lindy’s control was. "They belong to me. You can’t keep them."

"They don’t belong to you anymore," Lindy assured her. "Now they’re evidence."

Dorsey gaped at her, her apprehension turning quickly to full-blown panic. "Evidence? Of what? I haven’t committed any crime."

Lindy thrust both hands in front of herself and enumerated the charges on her fingers. "You’ve come to work for me under false pretenses. You’ve lied to me. You’ve been compiling notes of a dubious nature. You’ve compromised the entire membership and staff of Drake’s."

"Those aren’t crimes," Dorsey said instead of denying any of the charges. At the moment, she wasn’t entirely sure she could deny them.