Red High Heels

Oh you can watch me walk if you want to, want to
I’ll bet you want me back now don’t you, don’t you
I’m about to show you just how missin’ me feels
In my red high heels – Kellie Pickler

 

 

Ten companies, nine men, two women.  Trixie sighed as she sat at the desk in her apartment and studied the list on her computer screen.

B3 Software	Reid R. Beckhart
Control & Venture	William Jefferson Thornhill III
Eastway Berkley	Charles Emerson Prescott III
Fireking Incorporated	Richard Hoffman
Jupiter Plains Solutions	Warren Mortimer
Kingston Technology	Margaret Kingston Gaitley
Langham Industries	Tammy & Harold Langham
Torch Systems	Edward L. Buchanan
Triad Properties	Samuel Wade Patterson
Wheeler International	Matthew Wheeler

 

She was finding it difficult to concentrate.  Thoughts of the people she had met continued to intrude into her consciousness, and she had to work hard to continually squash the distracting thoughts passing through her head.

How can someone as sedately serious as William Thornhill be married to a loveable flake like Bitsy? Hmmm… I wonder if there’s a chance he’ll fall for the “ditzy blonde” cover?  If Bitsy puts in a good word for me, it’s possible.  I need to spend some more time with him and get a better feel for the man.  Maybe they’ll be attending the gala tonight.  After all, Mitsy will be there…

Trixie shook her head, determined to keep the subject of Mitsy and her escort far from her mind.  She had little success.  I wonder if Mitsy is more like her Mom or her Dad? Mitsy can’t be too flaky – she was smart enough to bid on that date with Jim. Why does she have to be so cute?  She has perfect hair – smooth, shiny and never a strand out of place.  And I’ll bet she’s a size two!

Aware that she had strayed far from her assigned task, Trixie threw her pencil down in disgust.  Mitsy has nothing to do with this case, she’s just going out with Jim tonight.  She’s beautiful, but at least she isn’t tall.  Taller than me, yes, but not by much.  

She scowled, knowing she had to get past the mental image of Jim in a hansom cab with Mitsy Thornhill and start focusing on the list.  Inwardly chastising herself, she sighed deeply and forced herself to concentrate on the information she had gleaned, and began to summarize her notes.

As she studied the list of companies, she carefully highlighted Wheeler International and Matthew Wheeler.  She would do the necessary work to prove him innocent, but there was no point in focusing on him right now.  Next, she highlighted Chuck Prescott’s name as well as that of William Thornhill.  Realizing she had had met almost a third of the suspects on her list, she was certain her boss would be happy with her progress in the past week. 

Besides, Saturday night is the Winter Ball and I just know I’ll meet Warren Mortimer, Bebe’s husband.  The Winter Ball!  Grace said not to miss that event. I promised Bebe I’d attend.  Maybe Jim will ask me, but he didn’t mention it Sunday.  I’ll just die if he asks Mitsy to the Winter Ball. 

Trixie groaned, realizing that once again she was allowing herself to be distracted by the supple, redheaded doctor of psychology.  What I need is to find a way to meet these other business owners.  Torch Systems has to be related to Kitty Buchanan.  It’s very likely I’ll run across Edward Buchanan tonight or Saturday night.  If not, I could find a way to ask Kitty about her connection.  She grimaced at the thought of conversing politely with Kitty “the Cat” Buchanan.  All in all, I’d rather go shoe shopping than talk to that girl, but I need to make contacts with more of the companies.  Maybe tonight I can convince Chuck Prescott to meet with me. Of course, Charlie seems to know a lot of people… maybe he’s the key to some introductions.

Resolving to work more diligently on the case, she checked the report request she had received from her boss once more, and sighed. Prescott’s companies were clean, not a single infraction against them.  Not even a warning.  She proceeded to request a report from Ben Walker on the remaining nine companies on her list, including Wheeler International.  The more she knew about the companies, the easier it would be to understand things if she finally managed to get her foot inside one of them. 

Once she finished her email, Trixie began the task of constructing a database.  Building it was easy enough with the software tools loaded on her laptop, and something she had learned to do early in her work with the government.  The challenge was determining what fields to create.  An agent never knew which details could connect the suspect with the crime.  The work was substantial, but from personal experience she knew it would pay off later when she ran queries on possibilities or searched for links and connections between people or companies.

Trixie relied on a mixture of logic and instinct as she slowly decided on the fields.  The company names and their owners were automatic, logical inclusions.  Later, when she added a field for charitable events, she relied on her instinct.  The mix of instinct and training led her to add a contact field to record the name of the person who introduced her to each suspect.  When she thought she had it nailed, she took a quick break before reviewing the database construct and the fields.  These were studied carefully, tweaked, and twenty minutes later she added the last field for social events.  She quickly typed the Metropolitan Opera and the date under Chuck Prescott’s name.

When the door buzzer sounded, Trixie frowned at the interruption.   Surprised at how long she had been working, she stood to stretch before crossing the floor of her apartment to push the intercom button.

“Ms. Belden, you have a couple of deliveries downstairs.  Do you want me to bring them up?”  The doorman to her building was an older gentleman, who was extremely pleasant and helpful.

“Sure,Harry.  Come on up.”  Trixie disconnected and smiled.  After all, it is Valentine’s Day.

She wasn’t surprised, a few moments later to see Harry with a huge bouquet of red roses.  Guessing they were from Charlie, she pointed to the kitchen table and asked Harry to place the flowers there.  Eagerly, she took the smaller potted plant from him and smiled to see a white orchid, blooming exotically in a china holder.  She tipped Harry and thanked him again.  Once she was alone, she pulled the typewritten card from the holder.

Roses are red, your eyes are blue.

This orchid is white.  Guess who loves you?

 

 

Trixie twirled as she took careful note of her appearance in the mirror.  Her red dress was the very latest fashion, having been one of several dresses that had been delivered to her before she left Chicago.  She found it strange that while she cared little about most of her new clothes, she actually liked this particular dress.  The sleeveless style was simple and the soft fabric felt smooth next to her skin.  The straight skirt hit just above her knee.

Remembering Charlie’s overzealous hands, she smiled as she tugged on the slim, black belt, noting that not even Mart could find fault with this particular dress.  She chose a red, glittery, gauzy wrap to wear with the dress and selected a pair of red high heels.  It seemed too easy.

Picking up a dainty red evening bag, Trixie opened it to check its contents.  The lipstick was there, and she wondered if anyone would ever question why she carried two lipsticks.  Instead of the derringer she had requested, the CIB had equipped her with an expensive but rare lipstick gun.  She knew it was a testament to the importance of the assignment, yet, she still felt a tingle of excitement when she practiced using the high-tech weapon on her last day in Chicago.  That was the same day she learned the CIB shooting range had a secured area for target practice.  She harbored a secret hope that her boss would actually let her keep the tiny firearm when the assignment was over.  Should anyone peek into her bag tonight, it was an innocuous tube of lipstick.

The doorbell rang, and she glanced around the apartment to make sure everything was in order.  The two dozen red roses from Charlie were displayed in a crystal vase on the table in the foyer, where he would see them.  The exotic, white orchid plant was artfully placed in front of the window. Trixie had felt a secret thrill before she even opened the card, hoping it was from Jim.  She sighed as the doorbell pealed again and she hurried to let Charlie in.

 

 

As soon as Charlie and Trixie arrived at the gala, Trixie began scanning the dance floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jim and Mitsy. 

“Is something wrong, Bea?” Charlie asked.  “You seem preoccupied.”

She turned and smiled at him.  “Just checking things out.  Are your parents attending tonight’s event?” Trixie aimed for polite interest with her question.  She had avoided mentioning the elder Prescotts at dinner.  Instead, she had let Charlie continue his endless prattle about his job and the work he was doing at his law firm.

“Yes, I’m sure Mother will expect a dance.  You won’t mind dancing with my dad, will you?”

“Of course not,” she answered, momentarily distracted as she caught a glimpse of Jim and Mitsy dancing across the floor.  She noted, with a satisfied smile, that Jim’s expression seemed a bit strained.  Turning back toward Charlie she asked, “Shall we dance?” 

Charlie gave a slight bow and the two of them moved smoothly onto the floor.  The soft music gave Trixie ample opportunity to pepper Charlie with questions.  She had spotted a man who seemed familiar. 

“That man in the red tie, standing next to the lady in red.  Isn’t that Richard Hoffman?”  She tilted her head slightly in the direction of the solid, distinguished- looking gentleman with salt and pepper hair, noticeably white teeth, and a tie that perfectly matched the red color of his escort’s dress.

“Oh, yeah. That’s him -- the king of Fireking.  That must be his latest girlfriend.”  Effortlessly, Charlie twirled her in order to get a better view.  “Yep, I heard he was seeing her.”

“Who is she?” Trixie asked, not recognizing the woman, who was obviously a good twenty years younger than Hoffman.

“Tiffany Eaton.  She wrote the book Bachelor Number One.  Have you read it?”

Trixie shook her head, wondering if she had missed something in her studying.

“Don’t waste your time,” he answered with a touch of contempt.  “It’s supposedly a scathing expose of dating games, but she doesn’t even hint at the names of the society people who play the games.  A total bust if you read it.” 

“Did you read it?” Trixie asked, striving to keep the surprise from her voice.  She had somehow not been able to picture Charlie-the-Chump willingly reading a book.

“Yeah, for a client who wanted to sue Ms. Eaton.  He insisted she’d revealed his identity, after they both signed a confidentiality agreement so that he would agree to talk to her.”

“Fascinating,” Trixie murmured.  “Did he win?”

“No, I managed to talk him out of it after I read the book.  There was no way anyone could tell it was him.  I suspect he just wanted people to figure it out... and was disappointed when they didn’t.  A lawsuit would’ve let people know it was him,” Charlie explained.

Trixie was surprised.  It was the first sign of legal logic she had known Charlie to demonstrate.

“Is Mr. Hoffman a client of your firm’s?” she pressed on, wondering if she could get an introduction through Charlie.

Charlie laughed.  “Thank God, no!  Dick “the Prick” is with Balch, Beck and Cole, and they’re welcome to him.” 

Trixie got quiet as she digested this tidbit about Richard Hoffman’s personality.

Charlie mentally kicked himself, taking her silence for embarrassment at his crude nickname.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  It’s just that we’ve gone up against him.  He likes the fight too much for me, even when he’s clearly wrong.  We actually ended up giving our client a break on billings in exchange for a cut of the settlement if we won against Richard.  There was little doubt we would win.  Hoffman just wanted to drag it out for the fun of it.”  Charlie shook his head as he remembered the bitter negotiations and trial.  “I’ve never been happier to see us win a case than I was that time.”

“Do you ever see any of your clients at these functions?”  Trixie inquired, realizing she wouldn’t get an introduction to Richard Hoffman through Charlie.

“Sure, all the time.  That’s the main reason Ben and I attend these things.  The firm likes to send us single guys out to society shindigs.  They’re always picking up the tickets and telling us to go.  If they can find a way to bill our time while we were here, they’ll do that as well, so if we see a client, we’re supposed to make sure we talk to them and then report it.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” she murmured.  She reluctantly moved a step closer as the music slowed and the dance became slower.  “Have you always known how to dance?”  She was smart enough to keep asking him questions, having already learned that the more he talked, the less his hands wandered.

He snorted. “You met my mother, right?”

Trixie smiled.  “Yes, I guess that means you learned to dance at an early age.”

“All I wanted was to play baseball.  Mother wouldn’t let me play unless I took dancing lessons.  I was probably the only kid in Manhattan who had a chauffeur driving him from the dance studio to the ball field.”

“Did you just meet Ben at the office, or did you go to school together?” 

“We’re both Yale men.  But I was already done and working by the time Ben got to law school, so our paths never crossed until he came to work at the firm.”  He frowned as he saw a client across the room, knowing he would need to approach him and speak.

“I didn’t realize you were older than Ben,” Trixie remarked.  “Somehow I was under the impression you two were the same age.”

“No.” Charlie shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m now solidly in my thirties, hence the pressure from my mother to get married and give her grandchildren.  Sometimes it sucks being an only child.  I’ll never tell her this, but whenever it happens, I’m going to have more than one kid.”  He shot Trixie a bemused look.  “How do you feel about kids?”

Her voice was full of caution.  “I completely share your feelings about having just one.  I have three brothers, so I can’t imagine how it was for you.  But I’m not planning on having kids for years.  I want to get my business established first.”

“Hmmm.”  His face was a study in disappointment.

Trixie was more than a little puzzled.  Her initial meeting with Charlie had left her with an almost intense dislike for him, but the more they talked, the more she found herself liking him in spite of his wandering hands.

Trixie decided to be bold. “How is it that you haven’t found someone to be serious with?  It’s clear if you’re attending these functions, then you must be meeting all kinds of beautiful women.  Haven’t any of them fallen for you?  Obviously, you have a lot going for you.”

Charlie laughed.  “You mean my money?  Most of the women you meet here come from families with just as much money as the Prescotts.  Not to mention, for the most part, they’re just a bunch of cold fish.  They never want to have any fun.  If you suggest going skiing for a quick weekend getaway, they think you mean sitting in a lodge all weekend drinking hot rum toddies.  If they actually skied, it would mess up their hair or their manicure.  They only eat about three lettuce leaves a day.  Most of them are so skinny, even if you could talk them into your bed, it would be like making love to a bunch of sticks.”

“Charlie, has anyone ever told you that you’re incorrigible?” Her eyes twinkled.  He had sounded like an overgrown child.

“Only every nanny my mother ever hired.” He smiled as he answered her.  The music stopped and they found themselves standing next to Jim and Mitsy.  Charlie winked at Trixie.  “Speaking of sticks…” he murmured so only she could hear.

She bit back a laugh and was grateful that Charlie suggested a change in partners.  When the music started another slow ballad, she slipped easily into Jim’s arms.  She felt inexplicably pleased when she heard him murmur -- “Now this is more like it.”

“How’s your date with Mitsy going?” she asked.

“It’s not a date,” he answered immediately casting his eyes downward to see if she were teasing him.  “It’s fine.”  They danced quietly for a moment before Jim spoke again.  “Not to set your radar off, but I did notice something strange while we were dancing just now.”

“Oh, what’s that?” she asked.

“There must be something between her and Charlie Prescott, because it was clear she was jealous that you were here with him.” 

Trixie glanced up at him in surprise.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m positive.  You didn’t see her protest about changing dance partners did you?”

“No.  That’s strange.  He’d just finished lambasting skinny society girls who won’t actually do anything but sit around, look beautiful, and eat lettuce.”

“Mitsy is definitely skinny.  Too skinny for my taste.  Maybe it’s hereditary.  Her mother seems rather frail.”

Trixie laughed.  “Not once you start working with her on a project.  I can assure you that it’s simply a façade.  The woman is a dynamo!  All that energy could be the reason she and Mitsy are so slender.”

“Well, I certainly prefer the type I’m dancing with right now,” Jim said softly, reaching out to tug Trixie’s curl. 

Trixie smiled and remembered the afternoon delivery.  “Jim, I really appreciate the orchid you sent me today.” 

Jim frowned. “I didn’t send you an orchid.  What are you talking about?”

Trixie froze.  “You didn’t send me a white orchid for Valentine’s Day? With a card?”

Jim shook his head emphatically.  “No.  Did Charlie send it to you?”  He scowled.  He had bought her a gift for Valentine’s Day.  It was outrageously expensive but it had reminded him so much of her he couldn’t resist.  He simply hadn’t had the opportunity to give it to her.  At least it’s more lasting than flowers.

“Charlie sent roses,” she answered, thinking hard.  If Jim didn’t send the orchid, then who did?  Ben wouldn’t send something like that, would he?  He couldn’t have!  He can’t possibly love me!

Trixie knew if she didn’t push the card and the plant to the back of her mind, she’d waste her opportunities that evening.  “Jim, I’m sorry.  The card wasn’t signed, but I guess the message just made me think it was from you.”

“Why?  What did the card say?” He asked curiously.

She shook her head.  “Just a ditty about white orchids.”  She felt her face grow warm.  “White orchids remind me of you,” she managed to get out.

Jim silently berated himself for not thinking to send Trixie an orchid.  Now some other guy has stolen my idea!  And she just admitted she thinks of me when she sees white orchids.

The song ended and Jim reluctantly stepped back from Trixie, as he spotted Mitsy only a few feet away.  Trixie made a note to study the interaction between Mitsy and Charlie to see if she could notice any undercurrents. 

“Oh, there you are, Jim.” Mitsy gave a half-hearted smile at her date, but the look she gave Trixie was filled with venom.  “I guess we should see if we can find Mummy and Daddy.  Mummy must have reminded me a dozen times that Daddy wanted a dance tonight.”

“Certainly,” Jim answered easily.  “I believe I saw them near the chocolate table earlier.”  He graciously took Mitsy’s arm, and with a puzzled look at Trixie, left to locate the Thornhills.

“Are you going to tell me what the story is between you and Mitsy?” Trixie asked, quirking an eyebrow at Charlie, who was scowling at the retreating backs of Jim and Mitsy.

“What story?” he growled.

“Oh, come on.  Do you really think I’m that clueless?  If looks could kill, you’d have already called 9-1-1 to send the paramedics for me.  She’s furious with me.  And since the only thing I’ve ever done is show up here with you...” Trixie shrugged.  “Do you two have a history or just bad feelings or what?”

Charlie’s face was blank as he considered her question.  “If you’ll blow this joint with me, I’ll tell you,” he finally promised.  Something about Trixie made him tell more about himself than he ever had to anyone.

“But, what about your parents?  You can’t leave without dancing with your Mother!” Trixie protested. 

“Then promise to go with me to the Winter Ball on Friday.  Mitsy just told me she had a date and I can’t show up without one.”

Trixie sighed.  She had really hoped Jim would ask her to the Winter Ball and fleetingly wondered if he were Mitsy’s date.  “Okay, but remember, you promised full disclosure on Mitsy.”

They were prevented from further discussion by the proximity of Charlie’s parents.  Once again, partners were exchanged, and Trixie was elated to find herself dancing with Chuck Prescott.  He gave her the perfect opening.

“So, how’s the new business going, Beatrix?” he asked smoothly, noting how attractive she looked that evening.

“Slow,” she replied.  “It’s harder than I expected to get my arms around the budgets every company has to spend on cyberspace security.  Not to mention other areas where I could provide services.”

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, as a thought reoccurred to him from the previous evening. 

Trixie smiled.  This is it!  He’s going to offer me a chance to review his own operation.

“You really should talk to George Rose,” Chuck enthused.  “He’s the managing partner at Charlie’s firm.  They’re in urgent need of a security overhaul, and I’ll bet Charlie could convince him to contract with you.” 

Trixie’s heart fell to the bottom of her three-and-a-half-inch red high heels. She managed to thank Chuck for his suggestion, but she was unable to recover before the song ended and she found herself back with Charlie.  Excusing herself, she told him she needed to freshen up her lipstick, but in reality, she needed a few minutes alone to fortify herself and try to come up with another strategy.  While she was still in the stall of the luxuriously appointed powder room, that she encountered her first real predicament since starting her assignment. 

“… I don’t know exactly where she came from, Buff,” the slightly-familiar voice was speaking.  Trixie frowned and immediately stopped tugging at her stockings.

“I met Beatrix a couple of weeks ago and she was hanging all over Grace Wheeler’s son, Jim.  I imagine she’s here with Charlie for spite.”

Spite? Trixie mouthed silently as the conversation continued.

“She catches on fast if she’s already figured out the way to get to Mitsy is by going out with Charlie Prescott,” another voice drawled.  Trixie could hear the derision in it, and wondered why the women hadn’t checked to make sure the room was empty. There was the sound of chairs being pulled out and Trixie decided the two had sat down in front of the large vanity mirror.

“Oh, please … Mitsy has no use for Charlie.  That was just an adolescent crush!”

It dawned on Trixie that the one voice belonged to Kitty Buchanan.  She was fairly certain she had never met anyone named “Buff.” 

“Well, really.  She must be some kind of it-girl wannabe!” the unfamiliar voice sniffed.  “What kind of girl wears nude-toned stockings in February?  Her dress might be designer, but it’s clear she has no clue how to accessorize.  Red shoes, indeed!  Everyone knows black stockings and black shoes should go with that dress.  Someone needs to tell that girl how to pull an ensemble together!” 

Trixie stared down at her shoes.  She certainly couldn’t see anything wrong with wearing red shoes with a red dress, and she definitely didn’t recall any guidance from her two-week crash course.  Kitty’s sneering laugh intruded on her thoughts.

“Isn’t that the truth?  And that purse!  Oh, Buffy… it matches the shoes, too.  She’s just red all over!” 

“So do you think Jim Frayne dumped her?” Buffy asked.

“Well, duh?” Kitty snorted.  “Why would a guy with all his money want someone like her?  She actually worked until just a few weeks ago.  Some sort of Government job.  Seriously, he only has eyes for Mitsy, now.”

Trixie felt her face burn.  She knew better.  Jim was with Mitsy because of the bachelor auction.  Suddenly, she knew she had to find out who this Buffy person was.  She pushed open the door to her stall and walked steadily to the sink to wash her hands.

As soon as the door of her stall creaked open, the two women’s chatter stopped.  Trixie carefully washed and dried her hands and then applied lipstick, refusing to use the mirror to glance at them.  Replacing the tube in her evening bag, she turned and smiled. 

“Hello, Kitty.  It’s good to see you again.” Trixie smiled brightly.  She could tell from the look on Kitty’s face that she was mortified.  “Hope you’re having a nice evening.”  She turned and walked out the door, leaving the Kitty and the gorgeous brunette sitting with their mouths hanging open.

 

 

“You’ve been awfully quiet in the last half-hour,” Charlie finally commented.  It hadn’t taken the astute lawyer long to sense the change in her demeanor.

“I think I’m more tired than I realized,” Trixie replied.  She had kept her eyes open since returning from the ladies’ room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sultry brunette.  She was certain Charlie would know the woman’s name.

“We can leave if you like,” he offered.

Trixie nodded.  She knew that between puzzling over the white orchid delivered to her earlier, and her recent encounter in the ladies’ room, she wouldn’t accomplish any additional work that evening.  Before the two of them could exit the dance floor, Charlie stopped to speak to Ben Riker, hesitating when he felt Trixie stiffen next to him.

Ben’s arm candy was the gorgeous, tall brunette from the restroom. 

“Hello, Beatrix, Charlie,” Ben said, smiling politely. 

“Hello, Ben,” Trixie gave Ben a polite smile and nodded to the woman. 

“Beatrix, this is a good friend of mine, Buffy Patterson.  She works quite a bit with Kitty Buchanan and Tinsley Gaitley on various charities.  Her current pet project is the Winter Ball this weekend.”

Trixie forced a small smile.  “We met earlier this evening.”

“Charlie,you’re looking well these days.” Buffy spoke, sizing him up as if she were considering using her long, sharp finger nails as a weapon.  The glossy, bright-red nails tapped methodically on her arm as her eyes moved up and down.

“As you are, Buff.” Charlie’s response was terse.

“Charlie, are you up to taking a turn with Buffy?” Ben asked, shooting a covert glance at Trixie. 

Charlie bowed slightly before answering.  “Of course.  It’s always a pleasure to dance with New York’s own Buffy Patterson.”  He extended his hand.  “Shall we, Buff?”  His dark eyes dared her to refuse him.

“Certainly, Charlie.  However, if you step on my toes, I shall probably ask Benjamin to file suit against you tomorrow.”

The two of them twirled away, and Trixie turned to Ben.  She blurted her question without thinking.  “How on earth did you hook up with her?”

“Her father’s our biggest client,” Ben replied curtly.  “Since you turned me down for tonight, I didn’t have a date.  Then I found out from Sam Patterson his daughter was available.”

Trixie refrained from snorting.  “Your job is just a ton of fun, isn’t it?” she offered instead.  “I’m not sure how you manage to stand it.”

“You just have to look for the bright spots… like dancing with you,” he added, watching her reaction. 

Trixie looked away in a vain attempt not to blush.  Taking a deep breath, she whispered her thanks for the compliment before asking the question she had been holding in since she first saw him.  “Ben, you didn’t send me an orchid today, did you?”

“No.  Wasn’t it Charlie?”

Trixie shook her head.  “Charlie sent two dozen roses.  The orchid was from a secret admirer, and I can’t think for the life of me, who could’ve sent it.”

“Get real, Trix.  It had to have been Jim.” Effortlessly, Ben moved her a bit further away from Charlie and Buffy.  He was an excellent dancer. 

“Jim said it wasn’t him,” Trixie replied.

“So besides turning me down for tonight, now you’re going to throw a secret admirer up to me.”  Ben grinned at his petite partner.  He wasn’t a bit surprised at the male interest in her.

Trixie looked up quickly.  “I didn’t mean it like that, Ben.”

“You could make it up to me by going with me to the Winter Ball on Saturday,” Ben suggested.  “It would be nice not to have to take the human icicle again.”

“Oh, Ben!  I just promised Charlie I’d go with him,” Trixie replied, with an apologetic tone.

“Are you getting serious about Charlie, Trix?” Ben asked her.  “Won’t that be your third date?”

Trixie nodded.  “Yes, it’ll be our third date.  But, no, I’m not getting serious about Charlie.  It just so happens we seem to understand each other perfectly.  I’ve learned a lot about him in the past few days.”

“Trix, you do realize what Charlie is, don’t you?” Ben was obviously worried about her.

“What is he, Ben?”

“A rich playboy who only works because his father makes him.  His loftiest goal is to charm as many different girls into his bed as he can.”

“He told me he had the highest win ratio of cases at your firm.” It was Trixie’s turn to watch for a reaction after she delivered that comment.

“You are smitten!” Ben declared, his voice full of dismay.

“No!” Trixie insisted.  “I’m not!”  She paused and looked around the room for a moment, making sure Charlie and Buffy were far away.  “Is it true?”

“Yes!  But that doesn’t change what he is!” Ben retorted.

Trixie scrutinized Ben’s annoyed expression.  She took a deep breath; certain she knew what his real problem with Charlie was.  “He’s older than you, Ben.  He’s going to get the more challenging cases.  The ones you want.  Just give it time.” Trixie spoke in an understanding tone.

Ben stopped suddenly, staring at Trixie for a moment before he resumed dancing.  She had obviously rattled him with her perceptive comment.

“Ben, how can he win so many cases if he’s always chasing women?” Trixie pushed.  “How much of what you heard is gossip and how much do you really know?”

The song ended and Ben shook his head in response.  “How about we go to dinner tomorrow night, Trix?  We’ll finish this conversation then.”

 

 

“Okay, Charlie,” Trixie said, once they escaped from the boring fundraising gala.  “I’ll make coffee at my place, but remember you promised to spill the beans about you and Mitsy – and no more hand games!”  She leaned back in the comfortable, warm limousine, daring to ease off her shoes.  Her feet were killing her, but it had been worth it.  She had danced again with Chuck Prescott, spending much of the time talking about security audits.

Charlie grinned.  He had known Beatrix would soon warn him off his usual roving-hands style.  He had a feeling she would see through his act.  “You’re new at this, so you probably don’t realize just how demanding the New York social scene can be.  Between my job and my mother, there’s a lot of pressure to be socially active.  The opera, fundraisers, parties – you name it.  Bitsy has raised her only daughter to be fully aware of what’s expected of a girl to move in society circles.”  Charlie loosened his tie, his grin stretching wider as he noticed Trixie’s bare feet.

“Okay, so Mitsy’s one of New York society’s sweethearts.  How long have you known her?”  Trixie resisted the urge to rub her foot.

“All her life.  Mitsy’s ten years younger than me.  Our parents have always moved in the same social circles.”

“But you never dated her?” Trixie was incredulous. 

“You did hear me when I said she was ten years younger than me, right?” Charlie looked at her as if she had grown another head. 

“Well yes, but she’s, what?  Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four,” he corrected briskly.

“And you’re thirty-four,” she mused, following the timeline.

“Exactly.  By the time she had her society debut, and I felt like I could ask her out, my reputation as a chump got in the way.  I was thirty-one and had been out with every girl my age in society.  I had a reputation that was blown out of proportion.  Mitsy’s closest friend is Kitty Buchanan.  She warned Mitsy not to have anything to do with me.”  He gave Trixie a pleading look, as if begging her to believe him.  “Bea, if I’d slept with even half the women people think I have, then I’d never have gotten any work done.  Hell, I wouldn’t even have time to make an appearance at the office.” 

Trixie frowned.  She had believed the stories about Charlie and wondered for the first time if he was just giving her a sob story.  “Charlie, don’t you think it’s hard for Mitsy not to believe what she hears about you?  You don’t exactly come across as, uh, virtuous.  The first night we were out I spent more time moving—” She offered him a narrowed-eyed stare. “—and removing your hands than I did doing anything else.” 

“Well, the opera is pretty boring.  I had to do something to entertain myself.”  He shot a grin across the limo at her.  “Come on, Bea.  Give me your feet.  I can tell they hurt.  Why do you girls wear those crazy shoes?”

“Because they look good,” she muttered.  “At least I thought they did.  That’s okay, Charlie.  I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!  Of course, your shoes were sexy as hell, but I promise I’m not seducing you.  Although if I thought for half a second you could be interested in me, I’d give it a whirl.”  Charlie patted his lap, indicating she should put her feet on his legs.

Trixie studied him a moment before tentatively moving her feet to Charlie’s lap.  “Why don’t you think I’m interested?” she inquired, relaxing at the expert pressure of Charlie’s fingers massaging her feet.

“I saw how you looked at Jim Frayne tonight.”

Trixie stiffened.

“If you were interested in me, you’d look at me like you look at him.  Is that who sent you the orchid?”  He smiled at her.  “Now, don’t look so shocked.  I wouldn’t be a very good trial lawyer if I didn’t notice how people react before anything else.”

“Jim didn’t send me the orchid.  I don’t know who sent it.  I guess I was hoping it was you.”

“No, I signed my card.”  Charlie paused and wondered for a moment.  “You are careful, aren’t you Bea?  I mean, you pay attention to things, right?”

Who does he think he is?  Asking me if I pay attention!  Trixie bit back an exasperated sigh.  “Do you think I have a stalker?  Get real, Charlie.  I’ve only been in town a little over a week.  I haven’t had time to get a stalker.”

“Well, just be careful.  Now, where were we?”

“You were going to tell me why you’re wasting your time using me as entertainment instead of pursuing the lovely Mitsy Thornhill.”  Trixie arched a sandy brow at him, wondering how he would answer.

He had the decency to flush.  “I only got fresh with you tonight when Mitsy was looking our way.  I figure if she’s going to believe my reputation, I might as well live up to it.”

“How do you know she believes you’re the chump everyone thinks you are?” Trixie asked more patiently than she felt.

“I told you, Kitty Cat Buchanan told her!” Charlie insisted. 

Trixie sighed.  “What could Kitty have told her that was so terrible?”

Charlie flushed, not sure if he could tell her.  Finally, he gave her a weak smile and uttered, “I guess you could say I got caught between a Rockefeller and a hard place.”