"Months, though Monica and I had separate rooms. Neither of us knew how to bridge the gap growing bigger every day, how to get past the loss of Anela." He shuddered out a breath. "After a while we were complete strangers."
Christine's fingers traced his scar. "Hard times either pull a couple together or break them apart." Charlie read between the lines. She asked whether this embezzlement scandal would pull them apart or bring them closer. He had no idea. "I'm so sorry." She bent to kiss his scar. He shut his eyes at the sweetness of it. He didn't deserve her, but God he needed her.
The Tardis squealed. Charlie pulled them both to their feet. "Go ahead and answer your daughter."
Christine shook her head. "It can wait."
"Answer her." A little space and distance might not be a bad thing. "I'll take care of the dishes. You cooked, I'll clean." Charlie patted her bottom and squeezed one cheek. "Then I have plans."
"I do as well." She squeezed his ass, making him chuckle before she walked away.
Charlie started to wash dishes. He should feel burdened, as he always did when he thought of the accident, yet the crushing weight of guilt seemed lighter. Christine had made the burden less heavy and shown him what life with her could be. If only. He finished drying the few dishes, put them away in the cabinets, being sure everything was organized and the kitchen spotless. A few photos hung on the refrigerator, Adam and Anna, her children.
She'd called his son by his true name. Christine was a wonderful mother, a wonderful woman. He wandered to the doorway of her home office. Large photos of Australia dotted the walls and a gorgeous waterfall print hung to his left.
Christine sat behind a massive cherry wood desk he recalled had belonged to her great grandfather. The deep color complimented the room and matching book shelves lining the walls. She typed away on a computer keyboard set before a flat screen monitor. "I'll just be a minute. Anna is doing well in her classes. She loves college. Her best friend is a guy, and he keeps adding things for her to tell me."
"Judging from your smile, I'd say this is a good thing." Charlie watched her fingers fly.
"He's a fine young man, and they get along so well. I think he's in love with her and a bit afraid to tell her. But we'll see. There's no rush. They're young."
A bit like us, best friends, he's in love with her. Like mother, like daughter. Charlie gave a loud sigh. "Well I suppose there'll be a wedding soon and then you'll be a grandmother."
Christine glared at him. "Bite your tongue, Jergens."
He laughed and moved around the room. The dozens of books, all genres from romance to mystery, bestsellers to thrillers, proved she loved to read as much as he did and kept as many 'dead tree' print books as she did electronic ones. He thought of all the nights they'd talked online, how he'd seen her in the leather chair, grinning as they chatted, and wondered how she'd appear riding him as he leaned back and thrust inside. They could now make the fantasy real. Charlie moved behind her and glanced at her screen, not to see what she was typing, but to gauge the height and figure how best to slide under her so—then it hit him like a brick. "Do you always have those minimized programs at the bottom of your screen?"
She typed 'see ya' and glanced up. "Do I what?"
Charlie bent closer and pointed. "Those programs icons here at the bottom; they're on your hard drive, bank, email, messenger, any file you have open. Correct?"
Her head tilted. "Yes. Why?"
"Do you also place them like this at work with the orders? Say mine, California's, maybe New York's, Texas'?" She nodded and his excitement grew. "Are they pass coded? Each file, so someone has to enter a password before he or she can open it?"
"No, but the system itself is password protected so no one else can get in."
Charlie pushed her hand from the mouse and clicked on one small rectangle box. Her email home page filled the screen. "Anyone can pull them up. The computer doesn't realize this is me and not you at the mouse."
He saw the realization in her expression. "So if I left my desk, someone could pull up any of the orders I had at the bottom."
"As easily as I just did." Directive or not, he'd show her and share this bit. "How long is it before the screen saver and password prompt appear?"
"Um, it usually takes three to five minutes." Christine gazed at the screen, but he could see the wheels turning inside her head.
"Do you always lock your office when you leave?"
"Yes." A tiny frown line appeared in her forehead. "I do most of the time. I mean, not when I go for coffee or to the restroom. But they're just down the hall. I'd see anyone who goes into my office."
Charlie lifted a brow. "You can see your office from the restroom stall?"
"Of course not." She waved her hand. "But it's so short an amount of time."
"It's enough time if you're experienced, aware what you need, and how to do it," he reasoned. He'd found the missing piece. "Who has your password?"