Pulling Strings Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  More from Andrew Grey

  Readers love Andrew Grey

  About the Author

  By Andrew Grey

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Pulling Strings

  By Andrew Grey

  A high-stakes case of industrial espionage ties them together, but before they can pursue their attraction, they must find out who’s pulling the strings.

  Devon Donaldson doesn’t know how a folio of stolen corporate secrets found its way into his bag, and certainly can’t think of anyone who’d want to frame him. The trouble is, he has to convince Powers McPherson.

  Devon’s firm hired Powers to investigate the theft of a new banking system, and so far Devon is his only lead. While Powers’s gut tells him Devon is innocent, he has no intention of letting Devon out of his sight… for more than one reason. Working together to get Devon’s life back leads to feelings far beyond cooperation. But before they can act on them, they need to find the group of thieves intent on ruining Devon’s reputation.

  To Brenda, Lynn, Tricia, and Dominic for making this book possible. I couldn’t have done it without any of you.

  Chapter 1

  DEVON DONALDSON stood outside the Four Seasons in downtown Philadelphia, glancing up at the imposing edifice.

  “What are you waiting for?” Karen asked as she got out of the taxi, straightening the hem of her ankle-length royal blue gown. “Come on. We’re supposed to be here.” She took Devon’s arm and led him inside. “You look very nice in your tuxedo.”

  “It’s a rental,” he blurted out, then instantly wished he hadn’t. No one needed to know that. He should learn to keep his mouth shut.

  “I won’t tell anyone.” She patted his arm, and they continued their way inside, crossing the imposing lobby, with its large crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors, following the discreet signage to the ballroom, where music wafted out into the hall. Devon fished his invitation out of his pocket and handed it to the attendant. Karen did the same.

  “Have a good time,” said the tall man, who probably also served as security, motioning them inside.

  The ballroom was already filling with people, all dressed to the nines. Devon still wasn’t able to figure out how he had ended up with an invitation. Coopers, Littman, and Mauer sponsored the event to benefit the National Multiple Sclerosis Society each year, and tickets were expensive. Devon certainly didn’t have that kind of money lying around.

  “There’s the rest of the team.” Karen waved and let go of Devon’s arm to walk over to the others.

  Devon followed her and took a place at the table in the center of the room. At least he knew his fellow team members: Mark Calvinson, Susan Malton, and Lee Kwan. He greeted each of them with a handshake, while Karen hugged them, and then they both sat down.

  “You aren’t going to end up dancing on a table like last year, are you, Mark?” Karen asked.

  “I did not,” he replied indignantly. “I merely ended up sitting on the edge of one.”

  “You nearly toppled the entire thing over,” Susan clarified, and everyone chuckled. “Maybe that’s why we have these drink tickets instead of the open bar like last year.” She shot Mark a glare that didn’t last very long.

  Devon settled in his seat, reached for a glass, and filled it from the crystal pitcher of water on the table, wondering how long he could just sit here without having to say anything. Not too long, apparently.

  “Guys, this is Devon’s first foray into the world of rubber chicken and schmoozing for dollars.” Karen grinned at him.

  “Just wait until the auction.” Lee leaned over. “That’s when the big boys all pull out their wallets and fight over who can buy the biggest… equipment.” He winked, and everyone else groaned.

  The recorded music up until then had been largely background. As a small live orchestra began playing, a few couples shifted out of their seats to dance, while at the same time a line formed at the bar. Devon turned slightly so he could watch the musicians and listen to the music while the others talked. It was mostly gossip about who was doing whom, and Devon wasn’t really interested.

  “Yeah, apparently the designs were copies and…”

  Devon turned, suddenly tuned in to what Susan was saying.

  “…they are still tracing how it could have happened.”

  “I hear she’s interested in you,” Lee told Mark, who stood right away and sauntered over to Gloria from marketing, the subject of their interest, only to be shot down faster than he could say “supply chain integration.” Mark returned to the table, smacked Lee on the back of the head, and vowed to get even with him.

  “Do any of you dance?” Karen asked. The other guys all shook their heads, but Devon nodded slowly. Karen got to her feet, grabbing his arm once again. “Then why don’t you show me the floor?”

  Devon stood and properly took her arm to lead her through the tables to the floor. “I haven’t danced in a while.”

  “I’m sure you remember how,” Karen said with amusement.

  Devon cocked his lips slightly, whirled her into his arms, and spun her into a waltz in elegant style. “Of course. Four years of lessons with my mother, because Dad refused to go and she was determined.” He glided Karen through the steps, making her smile, until the number ended.

  She stepped away, clapping politely along with the others. “Who is that?” she whispered, and Devon followed her gaze to a stunning, darkly intense man who half frowned as he watched the dance floor, his arms crossed over his chest. “Man… he’s got the whole ‘tall, dark, and broody’ thing going on.”

  “If you like that sort of thing,” Devon said, swallowing hard, because while he wasn’t into the brooding thing, he wouldn’t kick him out of bed if he got the chance. His tuxedo was cut beautifully—that was no rental. Even in the jacket, his wide shoulders and trim waist were evident. That was a man who knew how to take care of himself, even if he seemed about two seconds from shouting orders at everyone in the room.

  “Oh, me likey,” she whispered.

  The music started again, and Devon pulled his attention away from the sight against the wall. The tempo changed, and Devon broke into the fox-trot, taking Karen right along with him.

  “Damn, son, you weren’t kidding. Your mother must be so proud.”

  “She was, yes.” That was all the acknowledgment he gave, but Karen missed a step. Devon picked it up, guiding her through until the number ended. Then he applauded and escorted her properly from the floor. “I think I’m going to have a drink. Would you like anything?” he asked.

  “No thanks. I’ll see you back at the table.” She glided off across the room.

  Devon made his way through the increasing crowd to the bar. He got in line and slowly moved forward, glancing at where Tall, Dark, and Broody seemed to be watching him in return. Devon turned away and paid attention to what was in front of him.

  As he neared the bar, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he knew Tall, Dark, and Broody was right behind him. He didn’t dare look around even as sweat broke out under his shirt collar. Granted, he had no reason to be nervous—he hadn’t done anything wrong—but the man’s presence sent his pulse racing.

  “Can I help you?” the bartender in a white shirt and black vest asked.

  “Whiskey and soda,” Devon ordered, handing over the ticket. A few moments later, he took the drink, thanked the ba
rtender, and purposefully walked back to the table. Only once he sat down did he chance to look back. Tall, Dark, and Broody was nowhere to be seen, and Devon silently chastised himself for being so stupid.

  “You looked great, Devon,” Susan said. “Maybe we could dance later.”

  “Did you grow a right foot?” Mark chirped, and turned to Devon. “Last year she wheedled me onto the dance floor, and I ended up with two broken toes and enough bruises that it hurt to walk for a week. Don’t do it, my friend. It’s not worth the agony.” He dashed away as Susan lunged for him.

  “Are you all having a good time?” the supervisor, Judy Spalding, asked from next to Mark. “No table dancing this year.” She looked right down at Mark. “Remember, everyone is here, including all of the partners. This is definitely a time to impress. Don’t just sit here and talk to each other. Get up, mingle, meet people. This is the one night of the year that most of the hierarchy barriers are down. So it’s a chance to make an impression.”

  “Thanks, Judy,” Devon said, then finished his drink for courage and pushed back his chair. Before he’d left the house, he had determined that he needed to meet and talk with at least ten people he didn’t know tonight. Devon was usually quiet—his dad said he was shy. He knew it was something he needed to work on if he was to get noticed and have the chance to go anywhere in the company.

  Girding himself, he walked up to a group of people he had never met before, all standing in a circle, and took the only empty place, next to a woman in a cream-colored gown that glittered with sequins. “Your dress is stunning,” he told her as the others talked.

  She turned to him, a smile lighting her face. “Thank you, young man.”

  “You’re very welcome. It really is beautiful, and you are gorgeous in it.”

  She smiled again.

  “I’m Devon Donaldson.” He extended his hand, and she took it, shaking it gently.

  “Marie Mauer. It’s very nice to meet you. Is this your first one of these?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m new at the firm, just six months ago, and I’m sort of learning my way. It’s a wonderful evening.”

  “I saw you on the dance floor. Was that your wife you were dancing with?”

  “No. She’s a coworker.” Now Devon thought maybe he should have gotten another drink, but no. The last thing he wanted to do was dull his wits, even as his belly roiled in fear.

  “Lionel,” Marie said. “I’d like to introduce you to Devon Donaldson.” And just like that, Devon shook hands with her husband, one of the three founders of the firm.

  “It’s good to meet you, sir,” Devon said, meeting the man’s steely gaze. His dad always told him to meet strength with strength.

  “Likewise.” Lionel released Devon’s hand, and another man who Devon didn’t know put his hand on Lionel’s shoulder and drew him away from the group.

  Marie sighed and shook her head. Her smile slipped away for a few seconds and then returned. Devon was about to excuse himself when the music changed and Marie turned to him. “Would you mind?” She motioned to the dance floor.

  Devon nodded, guiding her out and politely taking her hand. He gently put his other hand to her waist, and they stepped into the dance.

  “It’s always work,” she whispered, her attention half on her husband.

  “You dance beautifully,” Devon said.

  “Don’t kid a kidder, young man. You are the one making me look good.” She smiled nonetheless as Devon glided her in a wide circle around the floor. Tall, Dark, and Broody stood just off the floor, and Devon felt Marie shiver in his arms. “I hate that man and told Lionel not to hire him for any reason, but he doesn’t listen to me about anything.” She scowled as the man moved away from the crowd. Once he was out of sight, her movements became fluid again, and Devon put the incident out of his head, intent on showing Marie off to everyone in the room.

  “Where did you learn to dance like this?” Marie asked. “Young people only seem to know that bump-and-grind stuff.” There was no heat in her voice, just a statement of fact as she saw it.

  “I took lessons with my mother. She and I used to enter dance competitions, and we won a few times. Mom was so pleased, and she used to hand me off to all the daughters of her friends whenever she got the chance. Mom thought that dancing would be a way for me to meet girls and eventually find a girlfriend and wife.” Devon smiled and leaned into the movement. “Didn’t work, though.” He smirked slightly, not fully at ease with her. She was one of the founders’ wives, after all.

  “Whyever not?” She truly didn’t seem to understand his little joke.

  “Because I’m attracted to the boys,” Devon answered, and Marie smiled and chuckled right along with him. “And guys are much more interested in bump-and-grind than they are the waltz, quickstep, or fox-trot.” He smiled and led Marie into a flourish as the music ended. He released her and applauded lightly, sharing a smile as her husband approached and guided her away.

  Devon melted back into the crowd of people and returned to the table, where only Lee waited now. “The others went to get drinks,” he explained.

  Tall, Dark, and Broody passed near them, sending his own particular dark shadow over them. Lee sat up straighter, and Devon slipped his hands under the table, fidgeting nervously like he was a third grader who had just been naughty and was worried about being caught.

  “What’s his deal?” Lee asked as he moved away. “This is supposed to be a party, but he’s casting a pall over everything he looks at.” Lee sipped his drink.

  Devon didn’t dare turn to look at the man, though he was well aware of his continued presence. The others returned and the mood lightened, even as Tall, Dark, and Broody continued standing nearby.

  “Ladies and gentlemen….” A man in a bright tuxedo stood onstage with a microphone. “I’m Gary Phillips from marketing. Welcome. Our live auction is about to begin for the really good items. Don’t forget the silent auction tables off to my right. They close in an hour. All proceeds go to charity, so bid early and bid often.” He continued warming up the crowd and then brought up the first item, a fifty-five-inch television.

  Devon didn’t pay much attention, since none of these items were anything he could hope to afford. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled once again, and Devon stood, getting a little tired of whatever game the man was playing. Without turning around, even knowing he was there, Devon approached the bar, got another drink, and returned to the table.

  Applause broke out as an item was sold and another put up for bid. Devon sat and sipped his drink before figuring that was doing nothing but making him more nervous. Picking up his drink, he walked right past Tall, Dark, and Broody, girding himself as he joined another circle of people. Thankfully, this one didn’t include the firm’s founders, and he recognized James Abramson, the head of one of the other development teams.

  “Are you having a good time?” James asked. “This is your first year, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I joined the firm this year,” Devon explained, his nerves rising once again. “It’s a good place to work, and everyone has been very welcoming.”

  “I’m glad,” James said absently as his attention was drawn elsewhere. Another item was brought up for auction, and James bid but dropped out rather quickly as the price escalated.

  Devon turned to watch the auction along with the others. He caught Tall, Dark, and Broody watching him, and Devon met his gaze, meeting those almost-black eyes for nearly a full minute before he looked away under their intensity.

  Most of the group drifted away as the auction continued, and Devon returned to the table once more. He’d joined two conversation groups, actually talked to people he didn’t know, and hadn’t made a fool of himself. He’d count that as a successful evening. Devon took his seat at the table and spent the next hour talking to his coworkers. They shared gossip, and Karen even leaned over the table, wildly speculating that Tall, Dark, and Broody was some sort of secret agent.

  “Maybe there’s
something going on, and he’s here to foil whatever’s happening.”

  Lee rolled his eyes. “You have way too much imagination for a computer programmer,” he teased.

  “Please,” Karen said. “I swear he could take me as one of his Bond girls any time he wanted.” She fanned herself, and Susan did the same. Clearly the ladies had a thing for guys like that. Not that Devon could blame them. The guy was gorgeous, in a “come to the dark side” kind of way.

  He drew closer to their table. Devon wondered what he wanted. He was standing right next to Devon, near enough that he could smell the muskiness that rolled off him in heart-lightening ways. He didn’t dare move, focusing on his drink. It was like this ominous, yet hot presence loomed over him. Devon wished he could simply stand and extricate himself from the situation, but if he stood, the entire table would get one hell of a show. So he sat still, like an embarrassed teenager, concentrating on his drink, willing the guy to move on.

  “Are you warm?” Karen leaned to him and asked. “You look flushed.” She poured him a glass of water, and Devon drank most of it.

  “Thanks.” He breathed evenly through his mouth, in and out, purposely keeping his control. A panic attack niggled at the edge of his consciousness, and he knew that was the worst idea on earth. He had to keep it together. He didn’t need to make a spectacle of himself. This guy wasn’t interested in him, and whatever was going on had nothing to do with him. The most handsome man he had ever seen in his life was just standing nearby, watching. It had nothing to do with him—Devon kept repeating that to himself. The tightness in his chest loosened, and his head throbbed less. He drank some more water to give himself something to do. Finally, he felt the tension wane, and his vision became less tunneled.

  He turned to find the man farther away. Devon inhaled deeply, then released his breath once more. He poured himself another glass, drank it, and glanced around to see if he was the center of attention. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed. But Devon had had enough for one evening. He checked his watch and used the excuse that he was going to look over the silent auction items to get away from the table and give himself something to do until he could leave.