Teasing The Boss Read Free

trying to get a better sense of this woman’s life before it was in shambles. His heart froze in his chest as he immediately recognized a man in one of the images.
    The picture was innocent enough. Grace stared intently at a man; a smile tugged at her red lips. But it was the man who had his full attention this time. Mark DuFord. The con artist of Wall Street.
    The same man who’d eluded Simon for six years. Constantly one step ahead or getting a lucky break at the last moment. Simon had been so close to getting DuFord behind bars a few months ago that he’d already had the FBI on speed dial.
    But at the last minute, Simon’s perfect bait backed out, tipped DuFord off that Simon wasn’t on the up-and-up and ruined any chance he had to catch the con artist again.
    Until now. Grace might not have enough cash lying around to afford his normal rates, but if she could somehow get him in touch with DuFord, he might have a chance to get his revenge after all.
    His fingers scrambled over the keyboard, and in seconds, he had the Bell Planning website up and scribbled down the address. It was about half an hour drive by cab. Without hesitation, he shut his laptop and collected his things.
    Grace Bell could be the key he’d been searching for.

 
     
     
CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    “I’m sorry. I tried. I really, really did.”
    Andre set an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “And you’re not done trying,” he said.
    “Thanks,” she muttered. She’d spent the morning huddled in her office, frantically researching the superstars of public relations that she might be able to reach out to, but she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that she was screwed.
    And not in the way Robert Bar claimed.
    The phone on Andre’s desk rang and he pulled away from her. “What are the chances it’s good news?” he asked with a grin.
    She shook her head. She supposed it was better to smile through the pain. If this call was anything like the hundred other calls they’d fielded, it was another reporter thinking they could get the interview that no one else had been granted.
    Or worse. A client calling to release her. She’d stop answering the phone altogether, but the slight chance that it was new or returning business compelled her to listen to every voicemail and answer those damn rings.
    “Bell Planning. This is Andre. How can I help you?” he asked in a cheery voice.
    Grace pushed her shrimp fried rice around in the cardboard carton it came in as she moved to the window. She leaned a hip against the sill, making sure to stay mostly in the shadow of the building, so no one could see in.
    There weren’t as many reporters as there’d been initially. They hadn’t tracked her down after her talk with Simon, so no one officially knew she was at the office, and she’d worn her suddenly useful auburn wig as she’d entered through the back.
    But she’d have to go home eventually. Hell, she’d have to walk her dog eventually. Poor thing had stayed with her neighbors for five days already. For the first time in years, she yearned for a private yard to call her own. She and Princess had been so content with the eight-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment for almost half a decade, but now they were being pushed out. Viewed as an intruder and interrupter of the peace.
    “I’m sorry; Grace isn’t in at the moment. Can I help you with anything or take a message?” said Andre from behind her.
    A cab stopped in front of the building. Grace ducked back a bit farther and peeked an eye out. It was hard to make out details from the tenth floor, but she could see well enough as long as she had her glasses on. The man didn’t exactly look like a reporter, but she’d learned that the press came in all shapes and sizes in the past few days. She couldn’t see his face as he was paying the driver but she didn’t mind the view.
    Grace took another bite of rice as she saw the play of muscles through a nicely fitted gray suit. One of the benefits