“I like my privacy.”
“It’s not healthy.”
“We’ve been over this before,” he reminded her. “You’re not going to change my mind.”
“I know, it’s just—” She sighed. “I worry about you.”
She did, too, which was crazy. The man was an eccentric millionaire. He owned one of the most successful investment firms on the West Coast. He was reclusive to the point of being mysterious. To the best of her knowledge, he rarely left his home, even to go into his corporation’s headquarters. All his personal calls came through the answering service. As far as Cathy could tell, no one had his home number, and that included the answering service itself. Its job was to take messages and hold them until he called in for them.
“I appreciate the concern,” he told her. “But there’s no need.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Was Muffin angry when you got home?” he asked in what she figured was an attempt to change the subject.
“She got over it,” Cathy said. Muffin was her fictitious dog. A cuddly Lhasa apso who hated to be left alone. “The dog-sitter really takes time with her when I’m gone, and that helps.”
“At least you don’t have to put her in a kennel.”
Cathy cringed as the familiar wave of guilt washed over her. She wasn’t devious by nature, and sometimes it was hard to carry on the charade of her charmed life. But she knew she didn’t have a choice. Not if she wanted to keep someone like Stone Ward interested in her.
“Did you finish the book?” she asked.
“Last night. You were right—it was great. And I never guessed the identity of the killer.”
They took turns recommending books for the other to read. Cathy settled down to discuss the latest plot twists of their favorite mystery writer. She had to put Stone on hold a couple of times while she fielded other calls, but otherwise they talked uninterrupted for nearly an hour.
“It’s late,” he said finally. “I should let you get back to work.”
She nodded without speaking. She didn’t want him to go—she never wanted him to go. But she couldn’t say that. It was just one more lie of omission.
“You’ll be at work tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Same time?”
“I’d like that.” She had a feeling her voice gave away too much, but she couldn’t help that. His calls were the highlight of her existence.
He exhaled slowly. “You know, Cathy, one of these days I’m going to sneak up to your office and meet you in person.”
It was an old threat. The first time he’d made it, she’d panicked, but since then she’d learned he didn’t actually mean to do anything; he just liked to tease her.
“I’m on the seventh floor, and security isn’t going to let you into the elevator,” she replied.
“I have my ways.”
She was sure that he did. “Cheap talk,” she told him. “Have a good night, Stone.”
“Until tomorrow. Good night.”
“Bye.”
She waited until he hung up the phone, then she disconnected the line. The console light winked out.
Cathy sighed. It was over until tomorrow. Until she watched the clock again and waited to hear from him. She slowly pulled off her headset, rose to her feet and headed for the coffee machine. As she had every night they’d spoken, she would replay this conversation over and over in her mind until she nearly had it memorized. She would analyze his voice, his words, and tell herself that it was okay that he was attracted to a mere figment of both of their imaginations.
She’d brewed the coffee when she’d first come on duty, so it was hot and fresh. She poured herself a cup, then stirred in a package of sweetener. Before she returned to her seat, she raised her gaze up, past the cup and the coffeemaker to the mirror on the wall.
