Idly doodling on a scratch pad, Yael experimented with ideas and menus for her bakery. Casey had already demanded a standing appointment for half-off anything he wanted on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, as well as every other Sunday. She smirked. The man ate like a fourteen-year-old boy with a bottomless pit in his gut, and it certainly didn't do anything to his body. Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head. He did that a lot, sneaking up on her when she least expected it.

"Hey, Yael," Wendy greeted as she breezed in, setting her purse on the floor and collapsing into a chair. "New York City was not made for ninety degree days. We should take a cue from Las Vegas and install misters along the sidewalk."

"That'd be nice. The air gets so still down here in all these high rises. No breeze." Yael's nerves kicked up knowing Wendy likely had information about Peter, thus the reason for her visit.

"So, how's life?"

"Good. I decided not to let my outburst yesterday bother me. I appreciated the positive articles, though. Feels nice to know not everyone sees me the way the Post does." She frowned. "Miriam's had a rough week, rougher than normal, so I automatically feel guilty for having easy days."

"Miriam would be the first person to tell you to savor each moment."

"She wouldn't be as eloquent about it, her words would be harsher, but you're right. My usual default is to look at life with a glass-half-full attitude. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or another silly cliché."

"Backsliding three times can do that to a person. It's been a year, sweetie. Give yourself a break. Don't look in the rearview."

"Isn't that a song title?"

They were interrupted by Casey sticking his head in the door. His smile faded when he noticed she wasn't alone.

"Oh, sorry. I can talk to you later."

"No, Casey. It's okay. Come in." Yael stood and skirted her desk. "This is my best friend, Wendy. Wendy, Casey Castañeda."

"I've heard a lot about you," Wendy studied him with a frank stare and Yael tried not to smirk as Casey fidgeted. Wendy had that effect on men and women alike. "You certainly live up to the hype."

"Um, thanks?" Casey peered at Yael and she offered him a grin. He recovered and said, "Apparently, I've been in the wrong office all morning. You two are much better looking company than Bob from Accounting. Did I interrupt something important?"

"Why? Were your ears burning?" Yael widened her grin.

"There are worse things than being discussed by a couple of gorgeous women. Must be my lucky day."

A dimple flashed in his left cheek, and she felt her body respond. Why couldn't he be ugly? Balding? A little voice spoke up, causing her to avert her eyes, saying it wouldn't matter what he looked like. Casey would still be Casey; attractive to her because of his soul, how he treated Miriam, and his wicked sense of humor, and how he could instantly calm or relax Yael when she needed it.

"You're assuming it was good," Yael quipped, silencing the internal voice for now.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, glancing between her and Wendy. "I'm hoping it was very bad."

Yael laughed, glad things remained okay between them after his partial admission of feelings yesterday. He'd put her at ease right away when she'd been really nervous about seeing him again, worried something would be different. While it still vibrated between them, he appeared as determined to move past it as her.

"You're a reporter, right?" Casey asked, interrupting Yael's thoughts.

Wendy nodded. "For the New Yorker."

"It's ironic you're here. Miriam had an idea after we discussed the vultures at the press conference. No offense."

"None taken," her friend said with a dainty shrug.

"When was this?" Yael asked.

"Little bit ago on the phone." He hunched his shoulders. "She wanted to know why I didn't do more, gave me a good lecture. I reminded her you did a damn fine job on your own handling that woman."

"Sounds like her. I don't need a man to stand up for me."

"But I'm available for special occasions."

"Duly noted." Yael felt Wendy's gaze and cleared her throat. "So, what's the idea?"

"Oh yeah, Miriam thought it'd be a good idea for Yael to give an exclusive to someone." His gaze darted over to Wendy. "What about you?"

"If Yael's game, I know I can get my editor on board." Wendy looked at Yael expectantly.

"I, I don't know, the Times article wasn't too bad." The idea simmered and she examined it from every angle. Her past was out there, what harm could it cause? "I guess if it's Wendy, it'd be fine."

"Don't worry, I won't be too hard on ya," Wendy grinned at her then turned her attention to Casey. "What do you have in mind?"

"Lay it all on the line, as brutal as some of the parts might be." He spread his hands. "Then, let it go. Let the public make up their own minds. They either believe a trumped-up story full of speculation or words directly from the source written by a friend who was there though most of it."

"It also gives her a chance to preemptively announce that she'll be stepping aside from the company, except in a figurehead role," Wendy added. "Free publicity for the bakery, too."

"I'm standing right here, ya know?" Yael said. An interview made sense, gave her a chance to show anyone wondering that she wasn't fragile or unstable. She was still a public figure, attached to a very powerful company. It'd be her first duty in this new role Miriam had suggested.

"What do you think?" Casey asked.

"As I said, if Wendy does it, I'm in. I won't do it for anyone else."

"Great, I'll let you guys know when," Wendy said. "What about the other thing?"

She directed her question to Yael, causing her to grimace. Since Casey was here, he might as well be involved in what Wendy had to report. She would have preferred to tell him later, after she had a chance to process the information, especially if she'd been paranoid for no reason at all.

"Wendy did some checking into Peter for me." She glanced at Wendy, then back to Casey. "If I'm wrong, even telling you this will be pointless."

She watched understanding dawn on his face. Through a clenched jaw, he said, "Tell me."

"Why don't you sit down?"

"I don't want to sit down."

"Casey. Sit," she ordered, almost letting a smile slip. Obeying, he took the seat across from Wendy. Yael paced, letting off the nervous energy inside her, terrified of what Wendy was about to share. First, she told Casey why she'd had Wendy investigate.

"A while ago, I discovered the file for the Warren Street project was handled entirely by Peter. When I interned for him, he was real big on micromanaging. He oversaw everything, but trusted those under him with menial duties like filing permits and tracking equipment. Every other project or file I came across indicated that he hadn't changed. Except for the one." Casey started to speak, but she held up a finger to stop him. "Peter filed every piece of paperwork on the purchase of the tower crane himself. For our Real Estate and Development division, it was a smart purchase, one we can use multiple times. Or that was the idea." She gave him a fierce look. "On its own, it doesn't mean anything, so don't get ahead of yourself. This doesn't automatically mean guilt."

Yael waited for Casey to erupt, but instead he seemed to be processing, running the information through his head. Short of increased breathing and his cheeks paling, he kept his cool. His voice was tight when he spoke.

"Maybe he's not guilty, although no one can deny it looks highly suspicious. I've questioned his involvement myself on the heels of our arguments. I didn't want to go there." He pressed his lips into a thin line. "We're facing a time bomb here, giving whoever this is another chance. Surely you understand that since you involved your friend here."

"In an effort to help clear his name," Yael argued. "I've known him a lot longer than you, and I am not ready to believe he did anything harmful." She took a deep breath. "Until I found him in your office late one night claiming to be dropping off a contract. When he left, I checked and there was no papers waiting for you, only freakishly organized pens."

"You're just telling me this now?" he fumed.

"Yes, because it could have been innocent. Accusing him is like accusing a member of my family. I needed more." She cut Wendy a frown. "What did you find?"

"Nothing to get excited about yet. Short of a drunk-and-disorderly arrest three months ago, his second offense in a year, he's clean. His finances are shitty, but he's also in the midst of a nasty divorce, and there were some large payments made from his retirement fund, but I couldn't track to who. I contacted a private investigator I use for the magazine, so we may know more in a couple days."

Casey shot up out of his chair and made for the door. Yael blocked his path.

"No. You can't go after him. Didn't you hear her? None of this proves anything. If you do what I know you're itching to and start throwing unfounded accusations, you'll damage any chance you have at being taken seriously around here. Miriam has given you everything you ever wanted. Don't mess that up."

"I don't care," he growled in frustration. "You're basing your judgment on who he used to be. I've dealt with him. He's an egotistical son of a bitch, and he had the means, and he's sneaking around my office in the middle of the night."

"And you're basing your reaction off what? Your gut? Your dislike of the man? The fact he treated an important project cautiously?" She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him in annoyance.

"Yes! My gut tells me he covets my job, and he'll try getting it any way he can."

"Do you hear yourself? Why would he hurt the company he wants to run?"

"So he can sweep in and save it."

"The detective said the same thing about your motivations," she cried.

"He did?"

Wendy chuckled, earning a murderous glare from Casey. "Sorry, but the whole swooping angle sounds a little far fetched, for you or Peter."

"Are you really this narrow-minded?" Yael asked him, trying to not let Wendy's mirth carry over to her.

"Excuse me?" he asked in shock.

"Is his involvement literally the only possibility you can see?"

He glanced at the ceiling, struggling for patience. "What else?"

"Maybe someone at the insurance company rigged it. Maybe one of the construction workers had a sadistic urge."

"Maybe it's plain old coincidence and human error," Wendy suggested.

"How will you feel if you're wrong?" he demanded of Yael.

She shrugged, already having covered this in her mind a few times. "It'll hurt, but not as much as accusing an innocent man and ruining his career."

"I'm trying to protect the company your grandmother entrusted to me. Peter has the means, the motivation, and the access. Until you prove otherwise, I'm keeping a goddamn close eye on him. I don't see a happy ending here, Yael."

"Once I hear from my PI, I'll be in touch. Keep a lid on yourself until then, handsome."

Her compliment seemed to derail his anger and Yael relaxed. Telling him was a gamble, but she had faith he would not do anything drastic. Unless there was another incident.

Casey closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "For the record, I think you're naïve."

"And you're a jerk."

"On that note, I'm leaving." Wendy picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She kissed Yael on the cheek before sauntering out of the office, tossing a "Good luck" over her shoulder.

"Look, Casey, I know you've made up your mind, but I'm asking you to be patient a little longer. Let the PI do his job."

A muscle ticked in his jaw and Yael worried he was gritting his teeth so hard he'd break them off.

"This is my life we're talking about, my career on the line. If we have a saboteur in our midst and I sat on it..." He shook his head. "What if something else happens and this time, an innocent bystander dies? I can't live with that."

"Neither can I, not if I dragged my feet because I trust an old friend. I'm on the line too, Casey."

"I told you I'd behave, okay?"

"Good boy."

That worked. It drew a twitch of his mouth. "Smartass."

They grinned at each other, but Casey's warnings lingered. If it was Peter, and someone got hurt because she couldn't accept the truth, how did she come back from that? Drugs were one thing. Having blood on her hands was an entirely different story.