A Murderous Game (2 page)

"You're overreacting,"
Rachael told her.

"How can you say that?"
Abby set the wine back down. "You know what happened between us. Gage will
probably take one look at me and storm out of the meeting."

"So you had a crush on the
guy, big deal. Every female between twelve and forty thought Faraday was the
hottest thing to hit the shore that summer. You just had it worse than the rest
of us."

"Right."
Abby smirked. "Fourteen years ago you called it stalking. You told me if I
didn't stop following him around he'd get a restraining order."

Rachael waved a dismissive hand in
the air. "Yeah, well, I lacked subtlety back then, and I was jealous you
spent all your time trying to get his attention instead of focusing on
moi
."

"I really want this project,
Rach
. But with our history, I'm worried he won't view me
objectively."

"What history? Honey, he
barely noticed you. And he's probably forgotten all about the diary debacle.
 Besides, you've changed so much I doubt he'd recognize you now. If he
even remembers Abby Sheridan, it would be as a skinny, weird looking kid with a
mouthful of braces and a pair of glasses that were always halfway down her
nose."

"Gee thanks, my self-image
grows by leaps and bounds."

"Get over it,
Ab
. You were fifteen. He was a college heartthrob and galaxies
out of your league." Rachael forked the olives out of her linguini and put
them on her salad plate. "And that was the same summer
Carly
Simmons decided she wanted to go to beauty school. You let her give you that
awful haircut that made you look like a hotwired punk rocker."

Abby smoothed back a stray lock.
"It wasn't that bad."

"Oh, it was bad. Chain saw
chic didn't become you. Stalling out in that gangly Olive Oil phase didn't help
get guys like Gage Faraday's notice either." Rachael twirled the diamond
stud in her ear and frowned. "What was it Denny Peterson used to call
you?"

"Chicken girl," Abby
mumbled, hating Denny Peterson all over again.

"Right, that was it."

Yeah
. Abby's chest rose and
fell on a sigh.
Thanks for the memories
. At least she'd finally filled
out, such as it was. Better late than never, as everyone said, even though she
hated to admit she'd spent a lot of shallow years worrying that never would be
her fate, positive that boobs were the be-all and end-all.

"If Peterson could see you
now, he'd be spitting feathers trying to deny it." Rachael wagged her
finger the way she always did when she wanted to make a point. "You're
proof late bloomers often unfurl into the most stunning blossoms."

Despite her deteriorating mood,
Abby smiled. With her sassy attitude, most people would never peg Rachael for a
romantic, but few people knew her as well as Abby did.

"You've been reading too much
Byron lately."         

"Probably," Rachael
agreed, "but it's the truth. Or don't you notice how all the men preen
when you enter a room?"

"I suppose that's why Dick
started having affairs within weeks of marrying me?"

"Dick's an ass."
Rachael's eyes sparked indignation. "I doubt he ever stopped seeing other
women."

Abby looked down at her hands.

"Sorry,
Ab
,
but it's the truth. And don't you dare think his philandering is your fault.
He's the one with the problem."

Abby cleared her throat and looked
across the table at Rachael. "He came by the office this morning to say he
wanted the Florida
property."

"What! That was part of your
inheritance."

"I know. The weird thing is
Dick never even liked the place. I swear he's just dragging things out to be
spiteful."

Laughter drifted from a nearby
table, and Abby glanced over at the young couple sitting there. They seemed
oblivious to everyone but each other.
Lovers
.
It was in their eyes, and their smiles, and their fingers twined together in
the center of the table as if they couldn't bear not to touch. She swallowed
and looked away.

"I'm going to let him have it.
I don't even care why he wants it. I just want out."

"Aw, honey, I know you do. But
if you keep making concessions, all you'll end up with is the townhouse."

"It's not a tough choice if it
buys me my freedom." Abby pushed her dinner plate aside, her meal barely
touched. She was so sick of arguing over property and payouts and who got what
she didn't care about any of it anymore.

It wasn't as if she needed the
money--not really. She made a decent salary. In less than six months when she
turned thirty, she'd receive the trust Gram left her. She'd be a wealthy woman
by some people's standards.

She'd been so upset by all the
delays these last few months she'd begun to lose focus. Now Gage Faraday could
drop back into her life and further complicate her well laid plans.

"I can't believe it."
Abby shook her head, the irony still hard to grasp. "I had to make a fool
of myself over the one guy who became CEO of the largest account to land on
Norwell's doorstep since I've been there."

Rachael smirked. "It'll be fine."

"Says
you."
Abby tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Why
couldn't I have stalked someone who wanted to be an insurance salesman, or who
aspired to go off to Tajikistan
and become a hermit?"

"He'd have to know how to get
there first."

Abby ignored the quip. "I
never thought I'd have to face Gage again. Now I've got to convince him to hire
me."

"I have several articles on
Gage and his company that I can send you," Rachael offered.

Abby looked across the table,
surprised. "You did a piece on him and didn't tell me? You know I would
have wanted—"

Rachael raised a hand. "The
station covered a press conference Gage held with the mayor last week. Since I
was out of town, I didn't know until I saw the release this morning. That was
the news I said I had when you called about lunch, but when 'Gage Faraday's in
town' were the first words out of your mouth tonight, it was obvious you
knew."

"Oh. Sorry, I'll take whatever
you've got."

Rachael tapped a perfectly
manicured nail against the side of her wine glass. "Just don't believe
everything you read about him. A man in Faraday's position makes for sexy
headlines. I can assure you half of what's written is speculation and the rest
is probably hype."

Abby sniffed. "I like your new
nail polish. Are you telling me he's a womanizer?"

"Thanks,
it's
called
cha-cha cherry
. And all I'm saying is he makes for good press.
He's wealthy, he's handsome, and he's private as hell, a paparazzi wet
dream."

"It doesn't matter." Abby
fingered the edge of the tablecloth and found a loose thread. "I have no
interest in Gage Faraday's love life, fact or fiction."

"Umm hmm," Rachael
murmured, taking a sip of her drink.

"Don't give me that
umm hmm
stuff," Abby said firmly. "I know how your mind works, so just delete
whatever matchmaking schemes you've got spinning around up there."

"Why? You've got to start
dating again sometime, or have you decided to become a nun? I hate to
disappoint you, but I think you have to be Catholic."

"You forget," Abby said,
as she picked at the thread, "I'm still married."

"Huh!" Rachael snorted.
"Considering Dickhead's on his fourth or fifth affair this year, I'd say
you had a green light ages ago."

"I'm not ready," Abby
said softly. "And if what you read is true, I can do without another man
who thinks of women as disposables."

"All I'm saying is keep an
open mind. You might discover whatever made you fall for him once is still
there. The boy may not have noticed you, honey, but I'm betting the man
will."

"I wouldn't care. I just don't
want to lose the account. And I'm serious,
Rach
,
anything I felt for Gage died years ago." Abby wrapped the loose thread
around her finger.

"Believe that if you want, but
remember, I know you better than anyone. And if you don't stop pulling the hem
out of the tablecloth the restaurant's going to add a replacement charge to our
bill."

Abby batted the cloth from her lap.
"Look, subject closed. I don't want to talk about Gage Faraday
anymore."

Rachael leaned back and gave Abby
an assessing look. "Okay, subject closed. We can always talk about
something fun, like ways to kill the cheating bastard you married."

Abby glanced up and grinned.
"I came up with the perfect way to murder Dick this morning, much more
creative than just poisoning him."

Their server chose that moment to
reappear with the check. "Whenever you're ready," he said, sliding a
furtive glance toward Abby before walking away.

"Did you see James's
expression? I hope he didn't think we were serious." Abby frowned.
"Maybe we shouldn't joke about murdering Dick in public, even if it is
just a game."

"Right, because criminals
typically hatch their felonious deeds in crowded restaurants where they're sure
to be overheard." Rachael rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "If
Dick turns up dead with a thong stuffed in his mouth, then we'll start
worrying."

"It wasn't a thong," Abby
corrected, reaching into her purse for her wallet. "It was a leopard
bikini." She slapped two twenties on the table. She didn't want to admit
just how deeply the news about Gage had affected her. She was sure it was only
because he'd been her first love. First times always seemed so much more than
they really were, more poignant, more painful.

"I'll send you the station's
video of the press conference if you want. You can use my password to access
it." Rachael handed Abby a fifty dollar bill. "I haven't seen it, but
it might help you prepare for your meeting."

"Thanks, that'd be
great." Abby would take what she could get, but she didn't know if
anything could fully prepare her for facing Gage again.

~~~

Abby sat down in one of the two
club chairs that anchored the old wooden trunk she'd picked up at an antique
store on

In a few days she'd come face to
face with the man again. She'd been so young the summer she'd met him, and so
in love. But the unattainable object of her desire had returned her feelings
only in her imagination and on the pages of her diary.

She'd been the architect of her own
shame by recording her passionate fantasies in her little red book. But she
never would have imagined her father would stoop so low as to cut the strap on
her diary and read her most private musings.

Abby took a bite of pasta, barely
tasting it, as she thought back to that horrible night.

She had convinced Rachael to go to
the end of summer fireworks on the boardwalk with her. Gage had been with Kelly
Samuels, an older girl who, for reasons Abby never understood, always made fun
of Abby and her friends.

She shook her head, amazed she
could still remember how Kelly had taunted them about
being allowed out
without a sitter
. Unfortunately, Kelly had only been the opening act.
Abby's father had been the real horror show, storming onto the beach, waving
her diary and accusing Gage of statutory rape. She'd had to admit in front of
everyone that she'd made everything up. It was the only way she could stop her
father's accusations and threats of prosecution.

To this day a part of her had never
forgiven him. He'd thrown the diary at her feet and stormed off, but not before
ordering her home like a child, and warning he'd better never find her hanging
out with street trash like
that Faraday boy
again.

Before Abby could get it, Kelly
Samuels had snatched up the diary and read a passage Abby had penned of a
steamy kiss from Gage. Her mortification complete, she'd fled like a coward,
unable to bear Kelly's laughing taunts or Gage's angry reaction.

Abby closed her eyes a moment
before clicking the video play option.

The mayor opened the news
conference, highlighting some of the changes taking place on the riverfront.
Abby resisted the urge to scan forward. Finally the mayor introduced Gage.

The screen shifted to a small group
near a makeshift stage that had been set up in front of the
Marabella
,
a grand old ship housing one of Philadelphia's
landmark restaurants. She and Dick had held their engagement party there.

A tall man in a dark blue suit
broke away from the group and mounted the platform. After shaking the mayor's
hand, he turned to face the crowd and smiled.

Abby caught the corner of her lip
between her teeth and drew in a slow, shaky breath. It was Gage. Older, more
filled out, and more devastatingly handsome than ever.

An old longing stabbed her—warm,
sweet, impossible. She sank further into the overstuffed chair. She'd convinced
herself she wouldn't feel anything when she saw him again—nothing like this.

The day after the diary disaster
came back to her as if it were only yesterday. She'd hidden in the shadows of
the rose arbor across the street from his uncle's. She'd just wanted to see
Gage one last time…maybe explain. Too much a coward, she'd remained in hiding,
consumed by yearning as he loaded his duffle bag into the trunk of his old blue
Mustang, hugged his aunt goodbye, and drove out of Abby's life forever, until
careening back into it this week without any warning.