A Murderous Game (6 page)

"If you had an ounce of
decency, you'd help me instead of standing there in mocking hilarity."
Ignoring her hand, she tore several towels from the jumbled mess and began
mopping up the counter.

Billings sauntered into the room. "Do I
detect a note of anger from the unflappable
Miz
Carpenter?"

Abby glared over at him. "I'll
bet you pinch babies for the fun of it."

"My, my!
I didn't realize I could provoke such emotion in you so easily. It makes me
wonder what else I can fire up."

She dropped the wet towels into the
wastebasket then turned and looked him in the eyes. "Oh, you make me feel
a lot of things, Harold." Picking up her mug, she wrapped her free arm
around her waist.
"Disgust, nausea, revulsion, yes,
definitely revulsion.
If you'd like to hear the unpleasant ones, it'll
take a little longer. Unfortunately, I don't have that much time right
now."

She made for the door, barely able
to stomach being around him. Was it her, or did the guy get creepier by the
day?

"Did you wear that dress for
me, Abigail, or do you have a hot date tonight? Why don't you stop by my
apartment first, and I'll give you a few tips before—"

She spun back, her temper high.
"For a smart man you can be pretty stupid. I could report you for
harassment."

He slid his eyes over her body with
such blatant insult she wanted to throw her coffee in his face. "Go ahead
and try. Who do you think Norwell would believe?" He grinned with
sickening confidence.

"Don't push me." Abby
warned, and then stormed out of the room, angry at him, and furious at
herself
for losing her cool. He was right though. What proof
could she offer? And Norwell wouldn't want to believe her claim because then
he'd have to do something about it.

She clenched her jaw. She was fast
on the way to becoming a serial killer.

~~~

That evening, Abby took three steps
into the large corner office and stopped. Two walls were made entirely of
glass. On one side of the room, a deep chocolate leather couch and four
matching chairs were situated around a rectangular mahogany coffee table. Above
that, a modern chandelier, shaped like sparkling glass lightning bolts, shot
prisms of color streaking across the ceiling and black marble floor.

Her gaze swept to the other side of
the room where a large conference table dominated the space. In the far corner
was an ornately carved bar. A massive mahogany desk, flanked by two leather
armchairs, stood squarely centered in front of the floor to ceiling windows. It
was richly elegant. It screamed masculine. It reflected him to perfection.

Abby turned to look at Gage who
stood with his hands in his pockets, silently watching her.
"My
compliments to your decorator."

"Thank you." He extended
a hand toward the sitting area, where several white cardboard containers
awaited them on the coffee table. "Shall we?"

"I didn't expect anything this
luxurious, considering you won't be here that long."

"I'll be here enough over the
next two years. I'd like to be comfortable when I am." He sat in one of
the chairs and started opening cartons.

"And then what?" Abby sat
on the couch across from him.

"That depends." He held
up one of the cartons.
"Vegetable lo mien?"
She nodded and he lifted some onto a plate. "We've been thinking of
opening another east coast location, in which case we'd just stay here.
Fried rice?"

"Yes, please." She
surveyed the room again. "As lovely as it is, would it be big enough for a
permanent location?"

"The two floors below this one
are empty. That would serve us for a while. And if we need more—" He
handed her a plate and some chopsticks. "There are forty-five below
that."

Abby's mouth dropped. "Are you
saying you own the entire building?"

"The corporation does. We
inherited it in an acquisition a couple of years ago." He took a bite of
rice. "I hope you don't mind the takeout. I knew there wouldn't be time to
eat before our meeting, and I've been told I get grouchy when I don't eat.
Grace said she mentioned it."

"Yes. Well, the food, not the
grouchy part. I don't mind. It saves me a stop on the way home." Abby
balanced the plate on her knees as she ate. She shouldn't be surprised his
company owned a high-rise in center city. She knew GFI was highly diversified.
One of the articles she read about Gage claimed he owned a seventy-five foot
luxury yacht and a couple of company jets. It had also compared him to a
machine—shrewd, calculating, relentless in pursuit of a goal, and lacking
emotion.

Gage opened another carton and took
out two egg rolls, offering her one. "I'm curious. What made you go into
marketing?"

Abby swallowed a mouthful of lo
mien and held up a hand to pass on the egg roll.
"Umm."
She wiped her mouth with one of the white paper napkins on her lap. "It
seemed like the perfect career for someone with an overactive imagination. When
I was a kid, my mother referred to it as a gift for exaggeration. She used to
say I could exaggerate Monday into a month."

"And did you," he asked,
"exaggerate everything?"

She shook her head. "No. Well
maybe a little, but mostly I think I just notice things other people miss. And
sometimes I'll visualize things that aren't there but should be. That's
imagination, not exaggeration. Or I'll suppose something being there that
shouldn't be and how it would change everything else if it were." She
stopped herself when he smiled. "I guess that doesn't make a lot of sense,
does it?"

"Oddly enough, it does. Most
people only focus on what's right before their eyes. They miss what's under the
rocks, or up in the tree, or behind the door. They don't think about what might
be in the shadows because they only see the shadow, not the possibilities
beyond." He lowered his voice.
"Hidden treasure, a
secret garden, a child abductor."

Abby shivered.

"Sorry," he said with a
twitch of his lips. "The abductor was a little over the top."

"Perhaps, but it's a great
example of how imagery can be used to get across a message. I was already
peering into the shadows when you said child abductor, and I wanted to jump
back. I had this horrible image of little children playing in a park while a
dark shadow crept closer and closer until it crossed over them and when it
passed off, the children were all gone. It would make for an effective if
disturbing awareness campaign."

"Okay, let's not use any
shadows in the
Riv
One ads."

"Deal," she agreed.
"Anyway, I've always had a talent for imagining things. What better
field for someone like
me?"

"Indeed." His eyes seemed
warm, with a hint of amusement.

When they were done eating, Gage
cleared away the remnants of their dinner and rolled out a set of blueprints.
He began interpreting the drawings, and Abby leaned in closer to have a better
look.

"Luxury condos, upscale shops,
even a center square.

"Right.
And here—" He drew a circle around a tall structure with his index finger.
"This will be a high rise luxury hotel. The top floor will house a
five-star restaurant with a domed glass ceiling."

Abby leaned further forward, elbows
on her knees, and propped her chin in her hands. "Have you thought of
putting in a revolving floor? Diners would get incredible views of the city at
night…the river, too. It would be lovely, and a unique feature in a town that
already has so many wonderful restaurants."

"I hadn't thought of
that." He leaned back, rubbing his chin. "I like the idea. And you're
right. Always look for a way to stand out from the pack. I knew you'd have good
vision."

It was the compliment, she
reasoned, not the warm glow in his eyes, making her pulse race. Gage cleared
his throat and looked back to the blueprints. For the next half hour he told
her what the rest of the drawings represented, peppering the explanation with
bits of his vision.

She couldn't tear her eyes from
Gage's face as he talked. She loved the way he tugged at his lower lip when he
seemed to consider something. He had a great mouth. And Lord, she could get
lost in those pools of smoky gray even with a GPS.

"What are you thinking?"

Abby flinched, caught daydreaming.
"Nothing, I—" She smoothed her dress over her thighs. What had he
been saying?

"I have to apologize. I didn't
get any sleep last night. I guess my mind drifted. It does that when I'm
tired." His steady gaze made her nervous.

"Lack of sleep can have a
serious negative impact on a person's concentration," she added, knowing
she was probably babbling but feeling a need to explain her drifting. "I
actually read that somewhere," she insisted, growing more uncomfortable.
Maybe she had, but it was more likely she'd just made it up. "Severe sleep
deprivation can even cause one to hallucinate."
Oh just shut up
, a
disgusted voice said in her head,
you're being obvious
.

Gage continued to watch her for
several seconds. Something in his expression altered. Damn the room was getting
warm. Maybe what she'd said was true because the air seemed to be changing
around them, becoming heavier. Abby felt as if they were hanging in it. Sounded
like hallucinations to her.

"I hope it doesn't make you
uncomfortable," he said, leaning forward, "but I have to tell you,
you have incredibly beautiful eyes."

Momentarily stunned, Abby said the
first thing that entered her mind. "They're green."

His mouth curled into a slow,
lopsided grin that made his already handsome face killer gorgeous. "I hope
whatever slogans you develop for
Riv
One won't be
quite so obvious."

She had to get away from him for a
minute or two to regroup. No matter how hard she tried to stop the crazy
spiraling she'd begun to feel, she was afraid the brakes were failing and she
was skidding head on into a danger zone. She knew it was foolish.
Intellectually, yeah, she got
it,
she was attracted to
the man. But her heart was skipping off into la-la land, tripping with ever
increasing speed in the very last direction it should be going.

Abby stood up, and without preamble
said, "I need to use the powder room."

Clearing his throat, Gage got up
and strolled to his desk. He reached underneath the front lip and then nodded
toward the side wall where one of the rich mahogany panels slid open.

"Thanks." She managed a
shaky smile and practically ran from the room.

~~~

Gage finished mixing the drinks he
decided to make after Carpenter had bolted. Why had he made that stupid comment
about her eyes? Damn. He knew, and he didn't like it one bit. He didn't want to
be attracted to her. He never mixed business with pleasure. It went against his
code, and he wouldn't start now.

Obviously, she felt it, too, the
shift that had been taking place all evening. The way she fled the room a few
minutes ago, she wasn't any happier about it than he was.

The door panel slid back open and
he looked up. He tried not to watch as she came toward the bar. That little
number she had on was a far cry from the conservative suits she wore on their
first two encounters. It made a man want. He didn't want to want. Not this
woman. Unfortunately, his body was behaving like a recalcitrant child who
didn't understand the meaning of no.

"What are you doing?" she
asked as she drew closer.

"I was getting thirsty. I
thought you might want something, too. I poured you a brandy." He handed
it to her. "If you don't like it, I can fix you something else."

"Thanks. I've never tried
brandy." She took a sip, catching a stray drop on her full bottom lip with
the tip of her tongue. "It's warm. I think I could like it."

I think I could like you
.
Desire pumped through his blood. He wanted to do some licking of his own. And
that would definitely be a mistake. She was a professional. Even if she felt a
mutual attraction, she wouldn't acknowledge it. She'd expect no less from him.
He
expected no less from him.

"I usually drink wine."
She averted her eyes. She wouldn't be so skittish if she were unaffected by
him. Why did that please him? He wanted her unaffected; one of them damn well
needed to be.

"What's your preference?
 I'll make sure I have some next time."

"Cabernet, or pinot, but this
is fine. I didn't mean to seem ungracious."

"You didn't." He sounded
like an idiot. They were experiencing nothing more than normal curiosity. Put
an attractive woman in front of a healthy man and it happened. No big deal, it
would pass, and not soon enough for his comfort.

"Ready to get back to
work?" he suggested.

"Sure," she said a little
too quickly, and made for the couch.

He sat on the couch as well, in the
corner, facing her, a good three feet of distance between them. She had her guard
up. Gage didn't want her to be nervous. If she felt uncomfortable working with
him, it could hurt the project.

He wasn't willing to settle for
someone else just because they'd run into a little snag. Hoping to put her at
ease, he dove back into the overview of
Riv
One.

"Obviously our internal
marketing group has put together a number of ideas. I'll leave it up to you how
you want to work with them, but they've got some good people on staff. They'll
be made available to you if you need them."

Carpenter worked her way through
the brandy like it was soda. Since it seemed to relax her, he fixed her another
when she finished it. The second glass went down a little slower. By the time
it disappeared, she no longer looked ready to rocket off the couch if he said
"boo." In fact, he thought, watching her tap her fingertips over her
mouth to stifle a yawn, she looked like she wanted to take a nap.