A Murderous Game (5 page)

The unexpected ring of the phone
made her jump. Only one person knew to call the office this late looking for
her. She closed her eyes, not up for one of Rachael's lectures. On the fourth
ring she groaned out loud. What if
Rach
needed her
for something important? She marched to the phone and snatched up the handset—best
friends could be a real pain in the ass.

"Before you say
anything," she started, hoping to curtail the lecture before it got
started. "I don't want to hear one word about my sorry love life. Got it?
And you'd better have a serious reason for calling. If not, hang up now, before
I say something I'll regret and have to apologize for later."

Abby waited for the lecture anyway.
When all she got was silence, she put a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes.
"What, no flippant response? No threat to enroll me in
Needs
a Life
Anonymous?" She waited another beat before guilt set in.
Rachael was her closest friend, and she'd probably just hurt her feelings.

She sighed. "Okay look, I'm
sorry. I'm just not in the mood tonight. It's been a really emotional day. Now
you see. This is why I wanted you to hang up. Please don't be upset."

"I won't be upset if you tell
me what you thought I had in mind." The rich baritone voice caught her
completely off guard. What was she supposed to say now? Explaining would
probably make her look pathetic. Well, she thought, when all else fails, say a
quick prayer and try humor.

"Please tell me this is
Rachael and you have a horrible cold."

"Sorry to disappoint you. It's
Gage Faraday."

"Mr. Faraday, I'm sorry. I
won't even try to explain what that was all about. I obviously thought you were
someone else. I hope you won't hold it against The Norwell Group."

"Loyal to a fault, aren't you,
Miss Carpenter? I consider it a very important quality. It's one of the reasons
I want to hire you to develop the marketing plan for River Place One."

"You want to hire us?"
She breathed a huge sigh of relief. "That's great! You won't be
disappointed. Mr. Norwell's brilliant, and Billings is very talented, and—"

"Miss Carpenter," he
interrupted, "I want
you
to manage the project."

She hesitated. "Me?" Did
she understand correctly? "Oh, well, I—thank you. I'm honored. Have you
spoken with Mr. Norwell yet?"

"No. I wanted to speak with
you first. I've got an eleven-thirty meeting tomorrow morning a couple of
blocks from your office. If you're free, I'd like to meet for lunch afterward.
It'll give us both a chance to see if we'll make a good team before I give
Norwell my decision."

"Lunch would be fine,"
she agreed, sounding so calm he'd never know she was pinching her thigh to make
sure she wasn't dreaming. She'd probably have some nice black and blue marks in
the morning.

"Good. There's a little
Italian restaurant not too far from your office.
Reggianos
.
Are you familiar
with it?"

"Yes, it's one of my
favorites."

"Perfect. I should be able to
make it by one if that works for you."

"Yes, and thank you again. I
look forward to it." Abby replaced the handset with trembling fingers.
Gage was choosing her. She was going to get the break she'd been waiting for.

After packing her briefcase, she
turned off her computer and locked her desk drawer. A couple of minutes later
when she passed
Billings's
office on her way out, she
resisted the urge to strut back and forth in front of his door flapping her
arms like a chicken. She was a professional after all, and it would be a
ridiculously immature thing to do. However, she did tilt her head back ever so
slightly and allow a soft crow.

~~~

She'd be prompt. Based on his
mental profile, Abigail Carpenter was conscientious, reserved, and bright. Her
manner and self-possession demonstrated a maturity well beyond her years.

She was also strikingly beautiful,
he noted objectively, as he watched the hostess lead her to the table where
Gage waited at the back of the restaurant. And, he thought with some amazement,
completely unaware of the male heads turning for another look as she crossed
the room.

He stood up as she drew near. She
wore her hair in the same sophisticated French twist she had yesterday. Maybe
it was her signature.

"I'm not late, am I?" She
closed the distance to their table.

"No. I was a few minutes
early." Coming around to her chair, he held it until she sat down then
returned to his own.

While they waited for their server,
Gage was struck again by the pure, deep green of her eyes. They were the color
of emeralds. Ever since their meeting he'd been picturing them in his mind. And
each time he did, he got the same feeling he had then—he knew her from
somewhere.

For the next hour she answered his
questions with refreshing candor. By the time they finished their meals, he had
decided she had the smarts and creativity he wanted for
Riv
One.

He folded his napkin and set it on
the table. "I think it's only fair to warn you I can be difficult to work
with." As busy as he was, he didn't have time to coddle anyone. "I'll
expect complete loyalty. I'll push hard, even when we're on target. I guarantee
there will be days you won't like me. Others when you may want to wrap me in
chains and drop me to the bottom of the Delaware."
He paused when she laughed and was surprised he hadn't noticed sooner that she
had dimples.

"And I want to subject myself
to all this because?" She regarded him with an amused, somewhat
mischievous twinkle in her eyes—another surprise.

Gage grinned. Abigail Carpenter had
a bit of an imp lurking beneath the surface of the polished professional. He
didn't mind; he enjoyed a sense of humor. It would make working with her more
pleasant.

"
Riv
One will change the face of the waterfront. It's a marketer's dream, and I
think you'll do a hell of a job."

"You're right, this is a dream
account. Even if you can't come up with a single other positive to tempt me
than that, I'd be a fool not to jump at the chance." Her smile broadened,
and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "You're right about
something else," she said, her eyes still dancing. "I will do a hell
of a job."

Something stirred in his gut.
"I'll always be straight with you," he said, not understanding why
but wanting very much to give her that extra positive.

She lifted her glass of water and
held it toward him. "Then I think we should get along fine."

He considered her a moment—the
porcelain cheeks, sparkling eyes, full tempting lips. She was classically,
delicately beautiful. It was too bad she was off limits.

"I'll be in meetings the rest
of the day, so I'll call Norwell tomorrow to tell him we've got a deal."

"It might be better if you
didn't mention this lunch meeting." She fidgeted with her napkin. "He
might not understand why I didn't tell him about it this morning."

"I'll handle it." He
cocked his head. "How good are you at acting surprised?"

"I think I can manage
it." She folded her hands in her lap. "Thank you."

It took a moment before Gage
realized he was staring again. He looked away quickly, checking his watch.

"I'd like to get started as
soon as possible. If you could come to my office tomorrow evening, I can show
you the architectural plans and bring you up to speed."

She nodded.

"Good. I'll have my secretary
call you with a time." Gage leaned back, satisfied with his decision.
Their server dropped off the check, and Abby picked it up.

"Lunch is on me." Her
smile was back, lighting up her face.

He sat forward and reached out,
catching a corner of the ticket between his fingers. "I don't think
so."

She pulled back, a gentle tug of
war for the check ensuing. "I insist. And I can write it off."

"Sorry," Gage told her.
"I asked you. So it's I who insist."

She inclined her head, gazing
across the table at him through half lowered lashes. "I have a feeling if
I don't relent, this will turn into one of those difficult times you were just
warning me about."

He slid the piece of paper from her
fingers. "See how fast you learn? I knew I was making the right
choice."

Walking through the restaurant a
few minutes later, Gage laid a hand against the small of her back to guide her
out. He performed the gesture out of habit, one he normally wouldn't even think
about. So why did it suddenly feel intimate when it never had before? Why was
he so aware of the gentle curve of her waist? How was it possible to feel the
warmth of her skin through her fitted jacket? Uncomfortable, he removed his
hand.

When they got to the door, he reached
above her head to hold it open. She glanced over her shoulder.
"Thanks," she said simply, and smiled up at him.

A jolt of desire caught him off
guard. It both excited and disturbed him. His schedule over the last several
months had allowed very little time for female companionship. He hadn't
realized until that moment just how much he'd ignored his physical needs.

Maybe he should reconsider Shelly's
invitation to spend next weekend at her father's vacation house in Newport. He discarded the
idea as quickly as he thought of it. It wouldn't be fair to lead her on, not
when he knew she wanted more than he could honestly give her.

It would be better to spend a night
or two with a discreet woman. One who would enjoy what he could give without
being hurt when it came time to say goodbye. Now that he understood his
response to Carpenter was nothing more than an overextended abstinence, he'd
take care of the problem, and it wouldn't be an issue.

"You know," he said,
relieved he'd settled that concern, "I keep having this sensation we've
met before. You remind me of someone, but I haven't been able to place
who."

"A lot of people tell me
that." She gave a slight laugh and then walked out onto the busy sidewalk
in front of him.

CHAPTER
THREE

S
he'd been worried for
nothing. Even after meeting one on one Gage had no clue to her identity. Yeah,
there had been that moment when they left the restaurant, but it passed without
incident. She was confident he'd chalked it up to coincidence.

Abby crawled into bed and reached
for the extra pillow, hugging it to her. Had she only imagined those fleeting
moments when he'd seemed to look at her the way a man looks at a woman, not a
business associate? Sighing, she turned onto her back and let her mind spin
with the twirling paddles of the ceiling fan above. It didn't matter. She'd
never get involved with a client. Even if she would consider it, which she
wouldn't, it could only lead to disappointment.

She was honest about the qualities
she possessed and those she lacked. Like passion. You either had it or you
didn't. And if you didn't, then best to focus on something you did.

It didn't bother her. Okay, so
maybe it bothered her a little. Who didn't want rockets at least once in their
life? Her fuse just always seemed to fizzle before the big bang. In one of his
meaner moments, Dick told her lawyer that Abby was frigid. Maybe she was.

Throwing back the covers, she slid
out of bed. There was more to life than
bing
,
bang, boom. In ten years she'd be running a top marketing firm. There wasn't
anything she wanted more, except maybe her divorce at the moment.

She went into the living room,
feeling her way in the dark. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well do
something productive. Flicking on the light, she picked up the file on GFI from
the top of the trunk, and tucking her feet under her legs, settled into the
club chair. She started reading the first of several articles she had collected
on Gage over the last week.

When the clock on the mantle chimed
five times, Abby looked up in disbelief. How could she possibly have worked so
long? Even if she went right to bed and managed to fall asleep immediately, her
alarm was set to go off in an hour. She groaned out loud. She was going to be a
zombie by noon.

~~~

Gage's secretary called at ten in
the morning.

"Mr. Faraday wants to know if
you can make it a dinner meeting since he won't have time to eat
otherwise."

"Whatever works
best.
Should I still meet him at his office?"

"Yes, around six, if that
works. I'll be ordering something in. Do you have any food preferences?"

"Six is fine, and I'm not too
picky about food, as long as it isn't still breathing and doesn't have
eyes," Abby said.

Grace laughed. "I think I can
work around that. We're on the forty-eighth floor of the

"Is that the one with the
lighted waterfall in the lobby?"

"That's right. The guard will
have your name and will buzz you through security."

Abby managed to stay coherent most
of the morning, but by
midafternoon
she thought she'd
need toothpicks to hold her eyes open. She couldn't remember ever feeling so
exhausted. She needed coffee. Pushing up from her desk, she got her mug and
walked to the employee lounge.

Why hadn't she worn one of her
business suits? She looked down at her soft, buttery cream silk dress.
Rach
had once told her it made her look hot. Abby frowned.
That wasn't why she'd worn it. She hadn't even remembered the comment until
just now. She didn't know how to be
hot
. Hot was
Rach's
style. And
Rach
was hot without trying.

"Damn!" Abby jerked her
hand back. Scalding coffee spilled over the sides of her cup, spreading across
the counter and dripping onto the floor. She grabbed for the roll of paper
towels next to the sink, but knocked it over and sent it unraveling across the
room. Cursing again, she scooped it up, reeling in the loose sheets. She heard
a burst of laughter from the doorway and glanced up through narrowed eyes.