“The best.” I held out a glass to her.
“I figured. You’re jumping around like a prize fighter who just scored a knock-out.”
I grinned. “I love a good fight.”
“You love winning.”
“Which is what happens when I fight.” I clinked my glass to hers. “That arrogant ass over at the Skylark Corporation was sure my way wouldn’t work, but their profit has already increased after just one week. You should’ve seen his jaw drop when I ran the numbers.”
“To profit,” Patricia said, holding up her glass. I was more than willing to drink to that. Every time the profit went up in a firm I worked with, they made more money and we got a cut of it. Talk about a win-win situation—as long as they could afford my rates.
“What’s on tap for next week?”
“It’s a pretty light week. Some check-ins with past clients Monday and Tuesday. An initial meeting with a promising start-up on Wednesday.”
“What about Thursday?”
“That’s Christmas Eve.”
Oh. “So?”
“So, you’re not the grinch. And speaking of that, did you find something for your mother?”
“Sure did.”
“Something special? Something you know she’ll like, not just expensive perfume or jewelry?”
“Well…”
She shook her head and set down her glass. “I almost forgot. Reception called up half an hour ago. There’s a woman here to see you, a Miss Sutton.”
I cocked my head to the side trying to ascertain if I knew anyone named Sutton. “Is she a client?”
“No. She wouldn’t say what it’s about, either. Last time I checked, she’s still down there. Insists she see you about a personal matter.”
Uh-oh. “Personal?” We exchanged a look.
“Yeah. So she could be a WB.”
I sighed. If so, that could take a while. In the course of my work, I consulted with the leaders of huge corporations. Of course, I also spoke with their employees, too, but often they were reluctant to say too much about their bosses. Every once in a while, a rank-and-file employee would seek me out, usually here at my office, and tell me something about the corporation that I hadn’t known—and definitely needed to. So far, we’d averaged one whistleblower every year or so. “Send her up.”
“Are you sure? I could ask her to come back next week.”
“Now’s fine. And you can take off after that. Are you seeing your grandkids this weekend?”
“Yes, we’re going to Navy Pier.”
“Have fun.” I gulped down the rest of my whiskey and went over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was already getting dark, and even from way up here, I could see the Christmas lights twinkling. When I’d been a kid, my mother and I had walked those streets checking out the lights, the festive banners hung from streetlights, and the storefront windows. Those evenings had always ended in hot chocolate—always.
The door opened behind me. Patricia ushered a young lady into the room, gave me a wave, and then headed off.
“Come on in, Miss Sutton.”
The woman was young, in her mid-twenties, and dressed casually. A long-sleeved white button-down was submerged under what looked to be a mile-long scarf wrapped around her neck. She had faded blue jeans, and an enormous—and enormously ugly—olive green coat slung over one arm. She didn’t look like the typical employee of the corporations I worked with.
Wanting to get a better look at her, I moved around my desk, flicking on the silver lamp perched on the corner.
Wow. Her eyes were green, in a shade that was far more attractive than her coat. A deeper shade, too. Maybe more like jade than green. I’d seen plenty of people with green eyes, but I’d never seen any with that hue. Framed by dark lashes, they were the biggest, most expressive eyes I’d ever seen. Her hair was a warm, honey blonde, and it fell in wispy tendrils that pooled in the folds of her oversized scarf. Soft, rose-colored lips parted as she looked up at me.
It took me a moment to form words. Hell, it took me a moment to remember my own name. She was breathtakingly beautiful. “I’m Mason Ross.”
I held out my hand, and then her soft, delicate fingers were in mine. I shook her hand with my eyes searching for the other one. And when I found it—no ring. Thank God. “Please, have a seat.”
“I’ll stand. I’ve been sitting for an hour downstairs.” Her voice was pleasantly feminine, but there was a hint of steel beneath it. It made me think that my guess about her being a whistleblower was right. Though she looked ethereal and beautiful, there was a subtle strength to her as well.
“Okay, we’ll stand.” I leaned back against my desk and she put her coat on a chair, revealing even more of her willowy figure. “How can I help you?”
“You can take these back.” She reached in her pocket, pulled out a little box, and handed it to me.
Perplexed, I took it from her. It was a jewelry box. “Are you proposing to me, Miss Sutton?”
She didn’t laugh, just held my gaze with those mesmerizing jade eyes.
“All right, I’ll stop joking around.” I opened the box and found a pair of diamond earrings inside—and suddenly it all clicked into place. Crap. I hadn’t anticipated this happening. I set the box and the edge of the desk. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thank you. Just an explanation.”
“Well, it’s the end of the day and the end of the week, so I want something to drink. And then I want to sit down—and I encourage you to do the same.” I strolled over to pour myself another glass of whiskey and got her a bottled water for good measure. When I got back to my desk, she was sitting stiffly in the guest chair, her posture straight, and her heavy coat bunched up behind her.
“How’d you find me?” I asked as I settled into my chair and appraised her. She sure as hell didn’t look old enough to have a child the age that that kid was.
“The name of the jewelers is on the box.”
That didn’t answer my question. “Yes, but how did you get them to give you my name?”
She shrugged. “I can be very persuasive and persistent. Now how about you answer my question? Why did you buy a pair of genuine diamond earrings that must cost God-knows-what for a little boy?”
That snooty prick at the store had probably been all too happy to tell her. It was completely unprofessional, but he’d obviously been pissed off when I made him sell those earrings to the kid. “I didn’t buy them for him. I helped him buy them for you.”
Her nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath. “That’s still not a normal thing to do.”
“Probably not, but he seemed like a good kid, and he wanted to get them for you so badly.”
Her expression softened, making her peaches and cream skin even more beautiful. “He is a good kid. But he doesn’t understand what these earrings are worth. I do. That’s why I brought them back.”
I eyed her steadily. “And how do you think your son will feel when he asks you where they are?”
Her jade-colored eyes sharpened. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you made him think he could afford those earrings.” She simmered for a moment longer. “I’ll tell him the truth.”