Harry took one last look at his acquired evidence from the Sherman Nichols’ case—all boxed and catalogued. The digital data was secured in the FBI system. Soon, it would be gone from his condominium—gone from his life. He hated to admit the case was done. Well, the case wasn’t done, but he was done with the case. After all the time, effort, and attachment, Harry had been ordered to move on. Last night, the call came from the deputy director—Agent Baldwin was needed elsewhere. The new assignment required traveling, and he was finally fit to travel. Despite the disappointment of losing the Nichols case, Harry was looking forward to getting away. Even though Christmas was around the corner, he needed a break from Palo Alto, his sister, and even Liz.
Amber’s decision to hire John Vandersol at SiJo added to Harry’s discomfort in Palo Alto. They had to create a story to explain his abrupt exit from SiJo. One day he was SiJo’s President of Security Operations—the next he was gone. Privately, on a personal level, Harry berated Amber for hiring John; however, on a professional level, Vandersol was talented—even gifted; nevertheless, Harry didn’t appreciate the added angst. It was increasingly difficult to deal with Rawlings and Claire while simultaneously faced with her only family. Harry wondered how Amber and Liz were able to handle the farce on a daily basis.
Since John’s law license was reinstated, it seemed as though he itched to make the move from corporate financial investments back to legal. The thing was—John Vandersol had a problem called loyalty. He obviously felt indebted to Amber and to SiJo for hiring him at such a difficult time in his career. Many corporations wouldn’t have taken a chance on him—despite the fact the charges resulting in his incarceration were later dropped, and his record was expunged. Harry assumed John would remain diligent to SiJo’s needs as long as his presence was requested. Amber said she had no intentions of asking him to follow his heart—his assistance with investments and procurements had already helped SiJo immensely. Amber may have initially hired him to solidify her faux friendship with Claire, but as a business decision, it was one of Amber’s best.
Sometimes Harry questioned Simon’s business sense in naming Amber as vice president of operations of SiJo. Simon’s confidence and recommendation undoubtedly secured her future with the board of directors upon Simon’s death. As much as Harry liked Simon, the man definitely thought more with his heart, or perhaps other parts of his body, than he did his head when it came to women. The fact he’d spent eight years waiting for Claire was another example of Simon’s emotional handicap. It sure-as-hell wasn’t a mistake that Harry planned on repeating.
As CEO, Amber McCoy often surprised and delighted her brother. She’d definitely learned from Simon’s intuition. Now, with John, the company was, once again, making waves throughout the gaming world. Granted, they were little ripples, but movement—nonetheless.
The knock on his condominium door brought Harry to present. He was expecting someone from the San Francisco field office. They were coming to pick up the boxes of research. When he opened the door, it wasn’t a fellow FBI agent, but Liz.
Harry scanned her work clothes. He liked the skirts that got all tight at the waist and stayed tight until her blouse, emphasizing her round breasts. Noticing her black high heels, Harry tried not to think about other times she’d worn those—and not much else. Unable to hide his sly smile, Harry said, “Hi, come on in.”
She took a few steps, scanned the stacked boxes and raised her eyebrows. “You’re really moving on to other cases.”
Harry gently clenched Liz’s shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her cheek. “Between you and Amber, I don’t know who has more difficulty remembering—I can’t talk about it.”
Liz grinned. “I know—or you’d have to kill me; but hey, this case almost cost us—us. So, to say I’m glad you’re moving on—is an understatement.”
Going into Harry’s kitchen, Liz opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. Harry was close behind when he asked, “Even if it means that I’m traveling?”
Liz shrugged. “I like it better when you’re here. How much of your schedule can I know?”
Leaning against the counter with his faded jeans, tight black t-shirt, bare feet, and messy, blonde hair, Harry grinned. “I can tell you when I’m home.”
“But, not when you’re coming home.”
He stepped toward her, put his arms around her waist, and pinned her against the counter. Inhaling deeply, he took in the sweet smell of her perfume. As he exhaled, his warm breath bathed her neck. Before he spoke, his lips caressed her shoulder and his fingers traced the edge of her scoop cut blouse. Liz tilted her head back, giving him full access and involuntarily moaned. His words were spaced and breathy. “No” “not when I’m coming home” “I promise” “when I’m home” “I’m all yours.”
Liz sighed, momentarily allowing her hips to be pulled toward his; however, when his hands lowered to her round behind, Liz pushed away. “Well, I think we need to talk. I mean, what’s this relationship anyway? What am I?”
Harry lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Are we dating again, or just having sex?”
Running his fingers through his hair, Harry sighed. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I don’t want you stuck in some holding pattern. It could be a few days—or a few months. That’s not fair to you.”