Chapter Three
Angelica
stepped inside the vacant elevator at Spitzer Financial Firm. She pressed the button
for the twelfth floor where her new assignment awaited her. She leaned her tired body against the steel
guardrails as the doors closed. Even the smooth, melodic sounds of jazz
bellowing from overhead couldn’t drown out the voice of her high-strung,
over-the-top boss, Lance Swann as it invaded her thoughts on the ride up.
The
last thing she wanted was to take on a new assignment. But Lance barged into
her office more than a week ago with what he deemed another big story that
needed her undivided attention. She could hear his flamboyant voice ringing
clearly in her head. “Hope, CBN News didn’t earn Best Broadcasting Station
of the year by sitting on our butts.” Then he’d pour on the flattery with,
“You’re the best reporter this station has. The others are just too darned
soft. I can trust you to get down and dirty to find the truth.” He was
right about that. She took her job seriously, sometimes a little too seriously,
and often leaving enemies in the aftermath.
She
was blindsided when her overzealous boss assigned her to investigate Jasion
McCoy without consulting her first. She had planned to take a long overdue vacation,
which Lance knew she deserved, after uncovering the teacher’s sex scandal that
rocked the Port City school system last month. She had her own problems to sort
out. As usual, Lance had thrown a monkey wrench in those plans when he’d handed
her a folder containing Mr. McCoy’s profile.
She
pulled a photo from the folder of a strikingly handsome young man; she’d
remembered seeing on an infomercial. After the Procter Investment Firm scandal,
people had begun withdrawing their investments from local financial firms in
Port City. He had encouraged the public that it was safe to reinvest in their
future and not allow one company’s mistake to scare them away.
Angelica studied the photo of Jasion McCoy
with awareness. She brushed her hands across the glossy image toward his eyes
and then down to the most perfect set of lips she’d ever seen. He didn’t
look like a crook, but neither did the rest of those high corporate thieves
who’d scammed billions from their clients. Well Mr. McCoy, I hope you’re
ready for me. I don’t take kindly to those who take advantage of the innocent,
no matter how handsome they are, she thought, trying to convince herself
that his good looks wouldn’t interfere with her doing her job.
Ding.
The elevator alerted that she’d reached her destination. The sound pulled her
back to the present. While exiting, she tried, refocusing on her purpose for
being there. She proceeded down a narrow hallway in search of the man whose
photo had her counting down the seconds until their meeting. She arrived at his
office door, where a gold plate bore his name in bold black letters. Before she
could knock, a tall, handsome, and immaculately dressed man charged out the
door, nearly knocking her over.
The
gorgeous creature leaning into her, quick reflexes and a strong masculine hold
around her waist broke her fall. The last thing she needed was a concussion
from landing on the hard ceramic floor beneath her.
“Ma’am, are
you all right? I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” He apologized, holding her
securely in his arms.
Seconds
ticked before Angelica could speak. There was a sense of familiarity about the
man holding her in his arms. She’d seen those soft, brown, caring eyes before, but
where? The only placed she’d seen him was in the photo and on television.
“You need to
watch where you’re going, Sir,” she scolded, breaking out of his strong grip.
Straightening her oversized, black blazer, she sported an annoyed look. “I
could’ve been seriously hurt.”
She
was more than okay. It wasn’t every day that a handsome, six-foot-three─ give
or take an inch─hunk, stormed out an office and held her in his arms. Too bad,
the hardnosed-reporter inside her, wouldn’t allow her vulnerability or gratitude
show.
“You’re right. I should’ve been more careful.”
He peered over her shoulders at his secretary’s empty desk. “May I help you?”
“Yes.
I am looking for a Mr. Jasion McCoy.” She knew exactly who he was. The sight of
him had taken what breath she had left. She tried to gather her composure in
light of the awkward moment they’d just shared. Focus. Focus. Focus. She
screamed within herself.
His photo and television infomercials didn’t
do him justice. Live and in living color was much better. His bronze, chiseled
face and beautiful full lips surrounded by a neatly trimmed goatee were enough
to make her want to fall again, just so he’d catch her. There wasn’t a flaw to
be found, and if there were, he hid them well.
Dateless
for more than two years hadn’t diminished her womanly abilities to scan a man
from head to toe in a matter of seconds. Her skills were still on high alert.
His tan designer suit complemented his toned body, drawing attention to all the
right places.
“I’m
your man. Sorry…my apologies, that didn’t come out the right way.” Stumbling on
his words, he extended his hand to her for a formal introduction. “I’m Jasion
McCoy. And you are?”
“Angelica Hope, from CBN News. The station’s
secretary scheduled me to meet with you at ten-thirty this morning.”
“Come into my office and let me
check my schedule for today.”
She
followed closely behind, checking out the full view of his masculine physique.
Not too bad. Not too bad. His wife is one lucky woman to have a man like him to
come home to. I thought Idris Elba was the only man who oozed sex
appeal, but I was wrong.
“Have a seat while I verify the time with my
secretary. I hope she’s returned from her morning break.” He turned, gesturing
towards a black leather chair near his desk. “Ms. Kennedy is good at keeping me
on track.” He dialed her extension, placing the phone on loudspeaker. “Ms.
Kennedy.”
“Yes, Mr. McCoy,” she responded in a
high-spirited voice.
“Do
you have me scheduled to meet with a, Mrs.─”
“It’s Ms.,” Angelica interrupted. Why
did I do that? I could slap myself. I hope he doesn’t get the wrong impression.
“I’m
sorry. Do you have me scheduled to meet with Ms. Angelica Hope from CBN News at
ten-thirty this morning? I could’ve sworn it was for tomorrow.”
“Hold, please, while I check.” She returned,
“Yes, Mr. McCoy, I reminded you of the appointment first thing this morning.
“Thanks, Ms. Kennedy. That will be all for
now.” He disconnected the call. “I apologize for my oversight, Ms. Hope. It’s
been chaos around here ever since investigators stormed into my office,
confiscating my clients’ portfolios.”
“Your boss, Mr. Lexington, contacted the
station and briefed us on the matter.”
“If you
don’t mind, can we discuss this over a late breakfast?” he asked, slipping on
his suit jacket. “I’m famished.”
“I have lunch plans in a couple
of hours. We could reschedule for tomorrow, if you’d like.” She couldn’t
believe those words had escaped her lips. Postponing a meeting of this nature
wasn’t in her vocabulary. She had to be
insane or weak to the magnetic powers transmitting from the handsome man
standing before her.
“No, I prefer to get this over with as quickly as possible,” he snapped.
“I don’t know about quickly, Mr.
McCoy. We’re stuck together like Siamese twins. After the case, we can both go
our separate ways. Where I come from, stealing is a serious crime.” No one took
that type of tone with her, even if he did look as if he’d stepped off the
pages of GQ magazine.
“Whoa. Hold on, Ms. Don’t come in here making
false accusations. I know Mr. Lexington prefers that CBN News cover the story because
of their network’s reputation for accuracy. However, I won’t hesitate to boot
you up out of here.” He shot back.
“Look.
I apologize for making false assumptions. In my business you’re innocent until
proven guilty.” Her reporter instincts warned that things were going to get
worse before the case was over, and sticking her foot in her mouth wasn’t
helping. “Okay, let’s go and discuss the events leading up to the disappearance
of your clients’ assets. Maybe we can put our heads together and figure it out
before the news get out to the public. After the Procter Investment Firm closed
its doors due to money laundering schemes, the last thing you need is for
Spitzer’s investors to begin panicking.”
****
The
company’s cafeteria rush hour was over and now had dwindled to a handful of
employees, allowing Jasion to speak free from prying eyes. Turning his
attention to the beautiful, feisty reporter sitting across the table from him,
he made a mental note to switch from watching BCB News to CBN News. She was
stunning.
Feelings
of déjà vu crept up his spine as he locked eyes with her across the table. Her creamy,
mocha skin and hypnotizing, brown eyes were enough to paralyze any man who
looked into them, but her attitude needed a major overhaul.
“Is
there anything else you need to know, Ms. Hope?” he asked impatiently.
“For
now,” she said emphatically. “I don’t want to overload you with questions
today.”
Not
that he’d mind. He could sit and gaze at her all morning. It was her tongue
lashing that he could do without. “Good, because my brain is fried,” he
laughed.
She
kept a stony face.
If
we’re going to be working closely together, I pray she loosens up, or
communication will be like pulling teeth out of a lion’s mouth.
“We’ve
only scratched the surface, Mr. McCoy. I will be working directly with Port
City detectives.” She took a sip of her coffee. “If you cooperate with me, I’ll
do all I can to help prove your innocence. But, if not, I’ll do everything in
my power to see that you end up behind bars.”
“Ouch.
That cut and dry, huh?” Jasion asked, steadying the cup of coffee in his shaky
hand. The last place he wanted to end up was jail, especially for a crime he
didn’t commit.
“Yes.
So, do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,
ma’am, we do.”
Jasion
could tell by the tone of her voice that she meant business. He hoped as time
passed that the five-foot-six beauty would ease up on the threats. His nerves
were already working in overdrive, and her straight-to-the-point attitude
weren’t helping matters.
The
reputation he’d spent years building was crashing down around him. God had
promised, through His word, to never leave him or forsake him. But he had never
felt more forsaken than now and questioned how was he going to get out of this
mess?
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