Knock, knock... (8 page)

"You know. The guy with the application you just approved. We were about to send him a check. For the dental center on 46th Street, Westside Dental… The one that does dental surgery for the kids?"

Shay struggled to put that proposal to the name. She remembered the dental shelter. They'd been funding it for a couple of years. "Sorry, I don't remember that name. That's tough on his family and colleagues."

"We were dealing with Max Charter, and then he moved to the Eastside, and Dr. David Cummings took over the management of this one." Jordan raised an eyebrow. "
He's
the guy that died."

Ah. Now that wasn't good for the dentist or for the Center. Still things like this happened, and they had to deal with it. "That's sad. I presume there is someone stepping in to take over from David?"

"Oh sure. We'll make sure that the new manager is briefed before the money is sent over," said Jordan as she started making notes on a pad of paper she produced out of nowhere – an ability that continually amazed Shay.

Jordan was always organized. She could put her fingers on the files Shay wanted within minutes and usually knew what Shay needed on a day-to-day basis as well. Shay had an older woman, Rose, working in the general office handling the phones and clerical duties but she couldn't begin to compete with Jordan's super organization. On the other hand, Rose handled people with a finesse that smoothed much of Jordan's abruptness.

"Briefing the new manager is a good idea." Shay thought about the amount of funding, winced and forced herself to ask, "Do we know how David Cummings died?"

"Collapsed while mowing his lawn," Jordan said with relish. "They are probably doing an autopsy right now."

Shay rolled her eyes. "They don't do autopsies for every case."

"No?" Jordan looked crestfallen. "That's too bad."

"How do you figure?" Shay stared at her assistant curiously.

"Well, they might make a mistake without it." Jordan shrugged. "Everyone deserves an autopsy to find out the truth."

What?
Shay stared at her young assistant in surprise. Rose walked in just then, her subdued navy skirt and blouse a peaceful contrast to Jordan's bright colors. Then her unruffled middle-age personality was hugely calming beside Jordan's youthful bubbliness.

"You know…" Jordan said helpfully. "What if people murder other people and leave no trace? It would be easy to make a murder look like an accident or heart attack."

"It would
not
be easy to do that," Rose said as she brought a stack of folders to Shay's desk. "In fact, I'd imagine a certain amount of skill would be required to dupe the police and medical profession."

With a tinkling headshake, Jordan said, "It happens all the time."

"I don't even want to know how you know that." Shay shook her head.

Jordan laughed. "TV, of course. There are awesome crime shows these days. And even more awesome websites. They show everything."

Rose groaned and disappeared into the outer office.

"And that's so helpful for the budding criminal element, I'm sure," Shay said. "Bring me the Westside Dental file will you? I want to make sure that the situation is monitored carefully before the payment is sent."

"Sure." Jordan bustled off. Her energy bustled about in a smart, attentive manner, just like her personality. Shay shook her head. She'd done her research before hiring Jordan, and there hadn’t been any surprises in the last year. She was hard working, honest and reliable. Friendly puppy material, with dynamite organization skills. Those qualities alone, made her valuable. Jordan’s energy was always alert and sharp as she went through her day, assessing what needed to be done and deciding when to do it.

If Shay could, she'd hire another dozen like her. Because she’d proven to be so competent, Shay had given Jordan more and more responsibility, and so far her assistant handled it well.

Workers like Jordan were hard to find.

Projects to fund, were not. Unfortunately.

There was never enough money to help everyone, so Shay focused on helping as many children and animals as she could through her foundation. She hated to turn down good causes, but she did when they were run by rotten people. Her psychic skills allowed her to read people's energy to see that much. The good-hearted but totally inept. The liars and the cons. And those with the know-how, plus the skills, to do what needed to be done.

But this death didn't ring her ‘happy trigger.’ That had nothing to do with her own compassion and caring, but because she knew people and what they were capable of doing to each other – and that made her naturally suspicious.

There was a lot of money at stake. The Lassiter Foundation – and by extension, Shay – controlled millions of dollars. It was up to her to make sure the funds were used properly. She left energy markers with each application she personally approved, and then once a month, she went through and checked out how the money was used.

It took time. The more applications, the more time was required. Occasionally, the news hadn't been good. She'd used a private investigator several times and had a couple of detectives on speed dial to prove what she could sense energetically. She ensured the system worked.

This case raised all kinds of alarms. But apparently this man had died at home. Was this significant?

Time to hit redial and find out.

Just as she pulled out her cell phone, Jordan raced back in. Her wide-eyed look had Shay stalling on the call. "What's the matter?"

"There's a man here to see you. His name is Roman Chandler." She gave an appreciative motion with her hands. "He says he has an appointment, but I don't have him in the books. He also said to ask you."

Shay sighed. "He doesn't have an appointment. But he's the kind that thinks he doesn't need one. Send him in; he knows you're talking to me."

Jordan's expressive face flushed bright red. "Oh. Sorry, I never thought of that."

"It doesn't matter. I spoke with him last night."

A big smirk wreathed her assistant's face. "Oh, last night, huh? That's awesome. He's hot. What a great pair you'll make."

Shay groaned. "Jordan, stop. We didn't go out on a date. We were at the hospital. Bernice passed away last night."

Jordan gasped in horror.

Shay nodded. "Exactly. Now just send him in, please."

"Sure. I am so sorry about Bernice." Jordan went as if to leave, but not before winking at her. "You should still go for it. It's about time, you know."

"About time for what?" Roman stood in the open doorway.

Jordan gasped, her face flushing bright pink again. She shot Shay an apologetic look and raced out.

"Nothing that pertains to you," Shay said smoothly as she stood up to face him.
Drat
. This man’s appearance could make the earth move, and she hadn’t even noticed because even from a distance, he'd already rocked her foundation.

Sneaking a quick glance, she checked out his energy. Dark greens strode up and down over his body in a calm, controlled manner. That figured. The healer, the moneymaker and the cop.

Gerard ran a huge company dealing with prosthetics and hospital equipment, things along that line, but he was getting old and needed help now. Roman told her he'd created Internet Security Corp after leaving law enforcement.
Could he do both?
Or would he sell his own company to help his grandfather?

That Roman came wrapped up in the best damn package she'd seen in a long time was a bonus.

Now if she could just reconcile that wall of his...

"Take a seat." She motioned for him to step in further. "What can I do for you?" She sat back down and crossed her hands serenely in front of her and waited.

"We didn’t finish our discussion last night."

She gaped at him. "Really? You came to my office to ask me why I'm nervous around you? Scared of you?"

"I don't want you to feel that way." He tilted his head, his gaze intent. "I'd like to ask you out to dinner and if you're nervous..."

Oh boy. She hadn't expected that. Yet she should have. It was a natural step for the two of them to take, but…

"I've surprised you." He grinned, a boyish smile that revealed the charmer. "Sorry."

"Yes, you did surprise me," she hedged, not knowing what to say.

"So just say yes." He paused. "Please. I've been looking forward to deepening our relationship from the moment I moved here. Saturday hardly counted."

Flustered, she willed the heat wave to stop its climb up her throat. The intense silence grew thick as she felt Roman’s scrutiny. It took more will than she'd had to use in a long time, but she kept her smile firmly in place. Inside...was another story.

She took another peek at this energy.
Wow.
His aura was contained. The energy circulated in a soothing manner.

Then he smiled, and she was almost ready to forget about his shields. And that made him very dangerous. But she watched, fascinated as a slow dawning awareness of her on a whole different level took over his whole face. Shivers of delight whispered through her.

"So what is your answer?"

She stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. Did she want to go out with him? Yes. Should she? She totally should not. She opened her mouth to refuse, only to hear herself say, "Yes."

"Good." He stood up. "Friday night?"

She tossed her hair back and sighed. What had she done? "I don't know when Bernice's funeral is scheduled. It could be earlier than Friday, but if not––"

"Let's make it Saturday evening so we're sure." He walked to the door. "I'll get back to you about the funeral arrangements."

And just like that he was gone.

"OMG. You're going on a date with him." Jordan practically danced through the room like a teenager. "He's gorgeous. Oh my. Where are you going and what are you going to wear?"

Wear?
She had no idea. Five days was a long time away. Anything could happen.

***

Roman walked out of Shay's building and down the block toward his own office – or rather, his grandfather's office. The traffic beeped by in a confusion of noise. The sidewalks were full. He stepped into the fast morning crowd and a typical business day in the downtown core. And so not where he wanted to be. He wanted to be working his own business and doing his art.

If only the dynamite CEO for Chandler Inc hadn't quit. And it could take a long time to replace him. Roman's help was supposed to be temporary, but...

On the upside, it would keep him here. Give him time to get to know Shay better. But he could do that without coming to his grandfather's company on a daily basis. It hurt to think about his grandfather getting older. That one day he might not be here.

Roman’s mind shifted gears. Bernice, Charles and Gerard had been inseparable for as long as he could remember. And over the last year, each had filled him in on Shay's life in bits and pieces. He knew about her lousy fiancé, his death, her isolation.

Bernice had said Shay was ‘different.’ Had some unusual skills. He'd pressed her for more information, but she'd clammed up. He'd often wondered what those skills could be. Maybe she was a belly dancer? A magician…? He had asked Ronin about Shay, but not even his twin was willing to share – said Roman would find out, in due time. And he’d told Roman to keep an open mind.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Then again, Ronin knew some interesting people, Dr. Maddy for one. Roman had re-evaluated some of his beliefs after meeting her through a fundraiser. Dr. Maddy had introduced him to a whole new world of paranormal theories, and he had to admit, he supported her children’s project when he could.

There were so many people in need.

Did Shay have skills similar to Maddy’s? Ronin had just smiled when asked. He had a cop's brain and strong intuition. And knew when to keep his mouth shut.

And Ronin also knew Stefan Kronos. Someone Roman would love to get to know. Not for his apparent otherworldly abilities – Roman wasn't at all sure about those – but for his art. Stefan's work was talked about...everywhere, and yet, somehow he remained a mystery.

That whole psychic thing was unbelievable to many people. There was enough proof – measurable results, like Dr. Maddy's – to keep Roman's doubts at bay. He thought most of what people talked about was garbage, but something about her and the results she'd achieved, just couldn't be explained away. There was media talk, too, about psychics working with the police to solve missing persons and serial killer cases. If psychics could help catch assholes like that, Roman was all for them.

As soon as he entered his grandfather's reception room, Celia, his grandfather’s office manager, spoke from behind her monitor. "Roman, your grandfather has been calling you constantly since you left. You forgot your cell phone again, didn’t you?"