Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Taylor arrived at Abigail’s office fifteen minutes before their scheduled meeting time. Though she had gone to work early, hoping to get some work done before leaving for this appointment, her conversation with Glenna had derailed that plan.
As she stepped into the sleek office building, Taylor forced all the confusing thoughts and emotions out of her head. Her heels clicked on the marble floors as she crossed to the elevator bank.
The door slid silently open and closed, taking her to the fifth floor.
“Good morning,” Taylor offered the receptionist a bright smile. “I’m Taylor Higgs. I have an appointment with Ms. Moyer.”
“I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Taylor was being ushered into Abigail’s spacious office in less than a minute. The first thing she noticed was that Sara was nowhere to be seen. Of course, the young woman could be waiting for them in a conference room.
When Taylor had passed the room, the blinds and the door had been shut.
“Taylor.” Abigail rose. “While seeing you again is lovely, I’m afraid I have some bad news. I was on the call when Davina informed me you’d arrived.”
“Bad news?” Not sure what that could be, Taylor waited for more explanation.
“Please, sit.” Abigail gestured to a comfortable-looking chair in a sitting area.
Once Taylor sat, Abigail took a seat opposite her.
“Sara canceled the meeting.”
“Is she ill?”
“She has decided not to pursue a divorce at this time.”
Taylor blinked. “Why?”
“She wants to try to make her marriage work.”
“But she paid all that money to have her husband followed, to confirm that he’s been cheating on her.” Once Taylor started talking, the words just kept coming. “Not with one woman, but three. And she got all the records together because she was convinced he would try to cheat her out of an equitable division of their property. Why would she?—?”
Abigail held up her hand. “According to Sara, Russell agreed to marital counseling. She believes he genuinely wants to salvage their marriage.”
“I can’t believe it.” Taylor blew out a breath. “How long will it be until he cheats again? Six months? Three? And now that he knows she was determined to get her fair share, you and I know he’ll use those months to hide his assets even deeper.”
“Perhaps.” Abigail’s tone remained casual, her expression giving away no emotion. “It’s her choice. The only thing we can do is hope the counseling works.”
Taylor pushed to her feet in frustration and began to pace. “I don’t know how you can be so calm about this.”
“Divorce can be one of the most difficult decisions a spouse can make, especially when there are children involved.” Abigail studied her. “What we think we would do in their situation isn’t relevant. We aren’t them. We don’t have all the information, only what they’ve chosen to share. I must respect that this is what Sara must do for herself and her children.”
Taylor dropped back into the chair. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. It was just that the note from my father said to help her, and I didn’t do that.”
“But you did.”
“How do you figure?”
“She now has resources, names and phone numbers that she can contact in the future.” Abigail leaned back in her chair. “She knows she’s not alone.”
“I suppose.” Taylor exhaled. “I just don’t see how this will end well for her.”
“If it doesn’t and she has us file the petition in the future, she will feel confident in her decision.”
“I suppose,” Taylor reluctantly conceded.
“Just like your parents. Once marital counseling didn’t resolve the issues between them, they knew divorce was the best option.”
“Wait. What?” Taylor stiffened her back. “My parents did marital counseling?”
Surprise flickered across Abigail’s face. “I thought you knew.”
“I had no idea.”
“I’m sorry,” Abigail said. “Bob never mentioned it was a secret.”
“I had no idea,” Taylor repeated. “I thought one day my mother simply decided the marriage was over and filed.”
She recalled being angry and wishing they had tried to make it work. Now, it appeared they had tried.
And she hadn’t even known.
Taylor initially planned to return to the office immediately and bury herself in Elite’s financial files. The growling of her stomach reminded her that she’d skipped breakfast .
Since Glenna, or really anyone, wasn’t expecting her back at any particular time, she decided to treat herself to lunch at one of the cafés on the River Walk.
The Black Apron got the nod today.
As it was a Monday and only eleven, she was seated immediately. Taylor pulled out her phone, ready to aimlessly scroll through social media until the waiter arrived.
Over the years, she’d discovered that this mindless activity effectively kept troubling thoughts at bay.
No more. Unlike Sara, she would not ignore her troubles. Taylor dropped the phone back into her bag.
Her conversations with Glenna and Abigail had left her with much to think about.
Jameson needed help, and her refusal to sell—or give—him her dad’s part of the business suddenly seemed wrong. The guy had to work incredibly long hours because he was now without a true partner.
Eventually, if she stayed, she could bring money to the business. But how long would that take?
She couldn’t let him?—
The thought fled when Jameson dropped into the chair at her table, looking very different than the man she’d come to know.
“Thanks for getting us a table, sweetheart,” he said, loudly enough to be heard by nearly everyone in the dining area.
She met his gaze, and something she saw in his dark depths told her it was vital she go along with this charade.
“No problem.” She played along when he took her hand, lacing her fingers with his.
“Any questions about the menu?” the server who appeared tableside asked.
“I believe we’re ready to order,” Jameson told him.
The man pulled a pencil and notepad from his black apron and smiled. “Ready when you are.”
Since Taylor hadn’t had a chance to even glance at the menu, she turned to Jameson. “Why don’t you order for both of us, honey?”
“Happy to.” Jameson immediately reeled off an order, indicating to Taylor that he frequented this establishment.
“Good choice,” the young man told Jameson when he ordered crab cakes with side salads and iced tea for them both. “I’ll be right back with your drinks, and your food should be out shortly.”
“We’re in no rush,” Jameson told the server before returning his attention to Taylor.
No, Taylor thought, not on her. His brown eyes weren’t focused on her but over her left shoulder. She resisted the urge to turn to see who was sitting there.
Instead, she focused on Jameson, whose dark hair was slicked back with gel. The dark-rimmed eyeglasses had to be a prop since it was her first time seeing him in them.
The casual attire had been replaced with what she thought of as a trendy GQ look—a button-up shirt open at the collar, tailored linen pants in a camel color and Italian loafers. A Burberry trench coat completed the picture of a successful businessman.
“You look incredibly lovely today.” Jameson shifted his attention to Taylor, not even glancing at the server as he arrived to set tall glasses of iced tea on the table.
“Thank you.” Though she knew this solicitousness was part of his game, Taylor flushed with pleasure and touched her hair. “I decided to go for waves today.”
“Let me grab a pic.” Bringing out his phone, he began snapping pictures as Taylor pretended to pose.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said as he took more photos.
Finally, just when Taylor thought she couldn’t keep the smile on her lips for one more second, Jameson lowered the phone.
She saw the satisfied gleam in his eyes and wished she could ask him about it, but she didn’t dare .
Once their food arrived, she regaled him with tales of her goat yoga experience with Polly.
The talk then turned to the beautiful weather, and when the check came, Jameson insisted on paying. For a second, Taylor nearly refused, until she reminded herself that this had been a business lunch. He was on a case—his treat.
When they rose to leave, Taylor could see for the first time who had captured Jameson’s interest. Two men, both in dark suits, sat at a nearby table.
If Jameson had wanted to keep an eye on these two, Taylor couldn’t have sat at a better-positioned table.
Jameson’s palm rested on her back as they left the Black Apron. Taylor obliged when he took her arm and proceeded to stroll with her down the River Walk.
They hadn’t gone far when they crossed one of the small bridges built over the water to the other side. This area had yet to be developed and offered privacy that couldn’t be found on the other side.
“Was what happened at the bistro part of the surveillance that kept you up all night?” Taylor asked without preamble.
“It was,” he told her. “Now it’s done. Which reminds me.”
Pulling out his phone, he quickly sent a text and slipped it back into his pocket.
“Who did you text?” she asked.
“Harry. He’s a PI?—”
“Glenna told me about him.”
“He was going to take over for me.” Jameson smiled in satisfaction. “Now there’s no need.”
“You got the proof you wanted.”
“Thanks to you and your brilliant choice of tables.” Jameson chuckled. “When I saw someone was sitting at the table I wanted, I thought I might need to regroup. When I saw it was you, I realized it was meant to be. ”
“Why the disguise?” she asked, gesturing to his hair and eyeglasses.
He pulled off the glasses and slid them into his jacket pocket. “I’d heard that the man I was following had searched PIs in GraceTown and Baltimore.”
“That’s a lot of PIs.”
“It is, so I knew his chance of recalling my face was small, but I figured switching up my look a little would take the slim chance I’d be made down to zero.” Jameson gazed at her, and admiration shone in his dark depths. “Having lunch with a girlfriend added to the cover.”
Her lips twitched. “Obviously, you weren’t taking pics of me.”
“Sensitive corporate information was being passed on.” A muscle in Jameson’s jaw jumped. “We knew he was planning to meet and pass the information. We just weren’t sure when.”
“We?”
“The head of security at the company that hired Elite.”
“If they knew this guy was going to give away trade secrets, why didn’t they just arrest him?”
“Until he handed over the information, no crime had been committed,” Jameson explained. “He had the security clearance to access the information, but gambling debts had made his company look at him more closely.”
“He sold out his employer for money.”
“Money is usually at the root of these kinds of cases,” Jameson said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Now what happens?”
“I’ve already sent the photos to the security chief. He’ll take it from here.”
Taylor pulled her brows together. “When did you do that?”
“Right after I pretended to show you the pictures I took of you.”
He’d held the screen so that she hadn’t been able to see a thing, yet she’d pretended to like and even pick out her favorites .
“I wanted him to know the exchange had taken place.”
“Isn’t it too late now? I mean, the information is already in the wrong hands.”
“When the company found out what was happening, or what they thought might happen, they made some changes that rendered the information irrelevant.”
“Not worth the money paid.”
“Which is why it’s important the police pick up the guy soon.”
“This is all incredibly fascinating.”
Jameson heaved a weary sigh, and for the first time she saw the fatigue around his eyes. “I’m glad it’s over.”
“Glenna was telling me this morning a little about how surveillance works. Despite my dad being a detective and opening the agency, I never thought about everything involved. The wide variety of what you do all in a day’s work is amazing.”
“I’d be glad to talk about it more sometime,” Jameson told her. “But right now, all I want to do is sleep.”
“You deserve it.” She pushed herself up from the bench where they were sitting, startled when he reached out and took her hand.
“Taylor.”
“Yes, Jameson?”
“Thanks again for playing along.”
Then he surprised Taylor by leaning over and brushing his mouth lightly against hers.
When he leaned back, she smiled, her lips still tingling. “What was that for?”
“For being a fabulous pretend girlfriend.”
As they crossed the bridge and started down the River Walk back to where their vehicles were parked, Taylor thought how easily she’d slipped into that role.
It hadn’t been difficult to pretend to be Jameson’s girlfriend.
It had felt all too real.