That Reckless Night

And what was he supposed to do with this information? If he fired Jeremiah, the press might catch wind of it and start poking around. It wouldn’t take much, a slip of the tongue by someone who didn’t know any better, and the story would come tumbling out. The scandal. A supervisor dallying with an employee. Lands sakes alive, the idea gave him heartburn. He steepled his fingers in thought. Maybe he could transfer Miranda to another office? Of course, the thought of foisting Miranda on someone else seemed like a bad idea. He sighed, irritated at the sudden turn of events.

Why couldn’t Jeremiah have listened to him? It was a simple directive: stay away from Miranda Sinclair. But he should have known—a young red-blooded American man would eagerly fall into the clutches of that green-eyed woman.

Either way, the situation had to be handled. And of course, the dirty work fell to him. He picked up the phone and dialed Jeremiah’s number. Jeremiah picked up on the second ring.

“Jeremiah, we need to talk,” he said, getting right to the point.

Jeremiah’s voice, on the other hand, was congenial yet cautious. “No problem. What about?”

“I think you know and, frankly, I’m disappointed.”

There was a long pause and Jeremiah said, “When would you like to meet?”

“I will see you tomorrow, 3:30 p.m. sharp. Do not be late.” Stuart ended the call without so much as a goodbye.

He couldn’t believe how disappointed he was in Jeremiah’s judgment. Perhaps there was something in Jeremiah that reminded him of Isaac, or perhaps of himself when he’d been younger, and knowing that Jeremiah had blatantly disregarded his solid advice really pinched his backside.

Well, he supposed the old adage was true: youth was wasted on the young because when the body was young and able, the brain was brash and stupid.

* * *

JEREMIAH PUT THE PHONE down and tried to quell the queasy feeling in his gut. He didn’t bother trying to deny Stuart’s suspicions; he’d rather face the situation head-on. Someone must have tipped off Stuart to Miranda and Jeremiah’s relationship—if you could call their wild, untamable attraction to one another a relationship. The question was, who? Then it hit him. Someone must’ve seen Miranda leaving his apartment on Saturday. It would have had to have been someone who knew them both, and someone who either didn’t like Miranda or didn’t like him. Seeing as he hadn’t been around for very long, he was willing to put his money on Miranda.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache coming on. He knew this would happen. He’d known it would be a bad idea to pursue anything with Miranda, and although logic dictated that they keep their distance, he really disliked the idea of someone else telling him whom he could or couldn’t see. He was willing to admit his feelings were childish and immature but it didn’t stop him from bristling at the thought.

Still, now was not the time to make waves. He called Miranda into his office. “What’s up?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d welcome anything that would give me a break from moose permits.”

Jeremiah smiled briefly and motioned for her to close the door. At his direction her open smile faded. “This seems serious.”

“It is.” Jeremiah didn’t see the value in softening the blow, so he laid everything out there. “Someone knows about us. I don’t know who, but it was someone who knows us both and reported our relationship to Stuart. I have a meeting scheduled tomorrow afternoon to discuss the situation. I wanted to let you know so you have a heads-up.”

Miranda sank into the chair, stunned. “I don’t understand. We don’t even have a relationship. And as far as I know no one was in the room with us when we were in that cabin and certainly no one was with us on Saturday. How could anyone have known?”

“The best that I can figure is that someone spotted you leaving my apartment on Saturday.”

“Yeah? So? You’re my boss. Maybe I was delivering paperwork. Maybe I was doing something work-related.”

“Whoever made the report must’ve seen something to make them believe that your visit was anything but professional.”

Miranda searched her memory and then grimaced. “Maybe my clothes were disheveled or maybe I had a look about me.... I don’t know.... Damn, I knew I should’ve gone out the back door.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “Listen, there are a million different ways to tear apart our actions but let’s not do that. I’m not about to let you pay for this mistake. I will take the heat.”

Miranda looked horrified. “You could lose your job.”