Holding the Dream (Dream Trilogy 2)

He only tightened his grip, leaned closer. "No way you can prove any of this. If you try to put this off on me, you're going to look like a fool. I dumped you. I got that account because I'm better, I'm more innovative. I work harder."

"You got that account because you slept with a lonely, vulnerable woman."

"Like you never slept with a client," he said in a furious undertone.

"No, I never did. And you took the money because you were greedy, because it was easy, and you'd found a way to set me up."

"I'm warning you, Kate, if you go to Bittle and try to put me on the hot seat, I'll—"

"What?" she tossed back, her eyes alight with eager challenge. "Exactly what?"

"Is there a problem here?" Newman glided down the hall in her eerily silent way. Her mouth was pursed, as usual, in disapproval.

Kate sent her a feral smile. "I don't believe there is." She jerked her arm out of his loosened grip. "Is there, Roger? I believe Mr. Bittle's expecting me, Ms. Newman. I called in on the car phone."

"He'll see you now. Your phone's ringing, Mr. Thornhill. If you'll come with me, Ms. Powell." Newman glanced over her shoulder once, measuring Roger as he stood grim-faced in the hall, then looked down when Kate rubbed her aching arm. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She drew in a breath as Newman opened the door to Bittle's office. "Thank you."

"Kate." Bittle rose from behind his desk, held out a hand in welcome. "I'm very glad you called." He closed both hands around hers. "Very glad."

"Thank you for seeing me."

"Please, sit. What can we get you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Ms. Newman, inform the partners that Kate is here."

"No, please, that's not necessary. I'd like to speak just with you."

"As you wish. That'll be all, Ms. Newman." He took the chair beside Kate rather than the one behind his desk. "I wish I could tell you about the progress on the investigation. But Detective Kusack asks more questions than he answers."

"I'm not here about that." She thought of Roger. No, she wouldn't point the finger, not yet. She would let him stew, and sweat, and she would find a way to prove what he'd done. Then she'd watch him fry. "I came about your offer."

"Good." Pleased, he sat back, folded his hands. "We're very anxious to have you back. We're all agreed that the partners could use some fresh young blood. It's too easy for a firm such as this to become stodgy."

"It isn't stodgy, Mr. Bittle. This is a good firm. I've just started to realize how much I benefited from my years here."

Without any idea of what she was going to say, she, too, folded her hands in her lap. "First, I want to say that I've thought about what happened a great deal and come to the conclusion that under the circumstances you did what you had to do. What I would have done in your position."

"I appreciate that, Kate, very much appreciate it."

"My mistake was in not facing it, and maybe I'm starting to give myself a break about that, too. I can't always handle things by myself. I don't always have all the answers." She let out a little breath. That was a tough one to admit.

"Mr. Bittle, I had one goal when I got my M.B.A. That was to work my way up in this firm to a partnership. Working for you was one of the best experiences of my life. I knew that if I made it here, if I met your standards and became a partner, it meant I was the best. It was very important to me to be the best."

"This firm has never had an associate with a finer work ethic. While I realize the timing of our offer might worry you, I'll assure you again that our regret for your involvement in this police matter has nothing whatever to do with the terms of partnership."

"I know that. It means a great deal to me to know that." She opened her mouth, acceptance hovering on her tongue. Then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bittle, I can't come back here."

"Kate." He reached out to take her hand again. "Believe me when I say I understand your discomfort. I expect that you'd be reluctant to accept until this matter is completely cleared up. We're certainly willing to give you time."

"It's not a matter of time. Or maybe it is. I've had time to readjust, reevaluate. For the past few months I've deviated from the path I set for myself when I was still in high school. I like it, Mr. Bittle. No one's more surprised than I am that I'm happy running a secondhand shop on Cannery Row. But I am, and I'm not willing to give it up."

He sat back, tapping his fingertips together as he did when he faced a knotty problem. "Let me talk to you a moment as an old friend, someone who's known you most of your life."

"Of course."