Beck & Call (23 page)

No one could mistake him for anything but a VIP.

She tensed at the prospect of pretending they hadn’t met then realized this might not be a problem. Raeburn’s gaze slid over her as if she were a complete stranger. That gave her a start. She knew she was dolled up and painted, but did he really not recognize her from Curtis’s office? Mia didn’t think she could have changed that much.

Apparently seeing no need for hellos, Raeburn curled his lip at Damien. “Enjoying your rock star status with the under-eighteen set?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Damien said lightly.

Raeburn seemed not to like this answer. Maybe he wanted Damien to get mad. His attention strayed to Mia. “You’re switching up your type, I see. I thought you usually went for blondes.”

Damien’s hand was behind her back. Mia felt it stiffen. “Excuse me?” he said disbelievingly.

“Well, there was that Swedish Victoria’s Secret model, and then the German lawyer.”

This insulted not just Damien but her.

“Don’t forget your daughter,” Damien said softly. “She’s blonde too, as I recall.”

“I’m surprised you remember, what with your revolving door.”

“I hardly have to remember when you’re so intent on keeping track. Or is it keeping score? Men like you seem to view every interaction as a competition for a trophy.”

He’d struck a nerve. Raeburn’s sun bronzed skin reddened. He lowered his voice but spoke more hostilely.

“You think I don’t know who you are, that I’m as dazzled as you’ve got some people.” He threw up his hands and waggled thick fingers. “Saint Damien. Why don’t we hire him to design missiles? He came out with a car that runs on batteries—like no one else built one of those before.”

“No one else builds them as well as me.”

“How can you tell,” Raeburn scoffed, “when you’re how many months behind on production?”

Damien’s expression chilled. “Some people believe in doing things right rather than blowing smoke up the government’s ass every time their ‘breakthroughs’ turn out to be jack shit. If you want to catch up, you should probably try to poach some of my employees. Oh wait, you’ve already attempted that.”

Okay
, Mia thought. These two had history … and not the pleasant sort. She wondered what had happened to the Raeburn she’d first met. That man had been imposing but he’d had charm. Damien seemed different too, as if Raeburn—and their rivalry—brought out his darker side. They were like fighting cocks circling each other, looking for a vulnerable place to peck.

She rubbed Damien’s arm, about to suggest they find the bar.

Raeburn eighty-sixed that plan by spitting his next retort. “If you think I’m going to let myself be lectured by some wet-behind-the-ears, arrogant—”

“Better wet behind the ears than an unscrupulous twentieth century holdover. Your company has had its teeth clamped on the government teat so long you’d starve without it. You don’t care if you’re incapable of delivering on your promises. Your greed makes you a danger to every man and woman in our armed forces.”

“Say
anything
like that again, and you’ll hear from my lawyers.”

“Your lawyers can kiss my lawyers’ ass.”

Damien poked Raeburn’s breastbone like he meant to drill through his shirt. Not about to stand for that, Raeburn grabbed Damien’s lapels. Mia guessed this was enough to spur Jake to intervene.

“Is there a problem here, Mr. Call? Because I don’t think these kids need to see you two get into it in front of them.”

The reminder of their audience caused them to step apart, though Damien was the one who looked embarrassed. Raeburn was slower to release his hold.

“Great,” Jake said. “Don’t sit near each other at dinner.”

Raeburn glared at Jake as if to demand who the hell he thought he was. Jake responded by doing something with his jacket that caused the CEO to stiffen and back off.

Mia realized Jake must have flashed his holster when Damien hissed at him. “You’re carrying?”

Jake offered a blasé shrug. “I’m licensed to.”

“Which of us were you going to shoot?”

“Whichever one seemed like he wanted to draw blood most.”

Mia laughed at his deadpan answer. Jake certainly had a unique bodyguarding style.

~

Damien strode stiffly out of the auction room. Despite only saying what was true, he was ashamed of himself. He shouldn’t have let that idiot Raeburn get his goat. He could have defended Mia’s honor some other way—and Jake was absolutely right about a bunch of kids who looked up to him not needing to witness him losing it.

Why bother getting angry when Raeburn didn’t have a leg to stand on? Yes, the W-22 delays secretly exasperated him. He wasn’t going to accelerate production until he was certain the factory could maintain quality. That was the right choice—the only choice for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Mia squeezed his hand as if his state of mind worried her.

“Sorry,” he said, stopping so he could look at her. “I should have been more controlled.”

“You were angry.”

Damien noticed Jake had halted along with them, though he faced away to observe the corridor. Damien realized he’d been a jackass in front of both his companions. That bothered him more than he was comfortable admitting. “I wanted you to have a nice time tonight.”

Mia grinned from beneath her lashes, seeming surprised and pleased by his confession. “The night isn’t over yet, Mr. Call.”

An unexpected vise tightened around his chest. What she said was sweet, but the sensation reminded him of this morning, when he’d watched her and Jake rub noses after sex. Damien worked so hard to avoid women falling for him. What if he decided he wanted one to succumb? Worse, what if that particular woman turned out to be unobtainable?

“Those women Raeburn talked about were just dates,” he blurted. “I don’t have a revolving door.”

“You kind of do,” Mia said with her sometimes inconvenient honesty. “I mean … Hell, I don’t know how to un-say that.”

Jake sniggered behind them, the sound audible through their earpieces. “She’s right, Damien. You kind of do. Especially now that we can add men to your menu.”

A buzz of gratification rose in him. Was Jake saying this because he liked being included?

A moment later, his emotions swung the other way.

Great
, he thought. Jake
and
Mia considered him a man whore. But if that were true, shouldn’t he be getting it more often? He heaved a gusty sigh.

“Very well,” he surrendered. “Let’s try to enjoy dinner.”

~

Since he was Mr. Moneybags Science Celebrity, the charity had given Damien a power table. It was located near the stage, where Mia presumed the speaker could more easily encourage him to scribble a big check. She doubted Damien minded. He’d certainly proved himself no tightwad with her and Jake.

His name was on the sign that stuck up from the floral centerpiece, though the individual seats didn’t have place cards. Possibly this explained why someone already sat in one.

“Shit,” Damien said, his step faltering beside her.

A moment later, Mia recognized who the early arrival was.

His office Cerberus, Ms. DeWinter, looked unusually glamorous in her plunging gold lamé gown. Her wavy russet hair was styled more softly than she wore it at work, and her makeup was more vivid. She rose as Damien neared, beaming with unmistakable and embarrassing fondness.

“You made it,” she said. “I’m so glad.”

“What are you doing here?” Damien asked, stupefied.

“Well, I know it’s a
little
forward, but when you didn’t instruct me to return Zoe Raeburn’s call, I thought you might need a plus one.”

Mia guessed her logic escaped Damien. His mouth worked with nothing coming out.

“Hello, Miss Beck,” Ms. DeWinter said, belated noticing her. “Are you attending with Mr. Reed?”

“She’s with me,” Damien snapped.

Ms. DeWinter looked confused. “Why would she be with you?”

“Because she’s my date. As you most definitely are not.”

“Uh boy,” Jake murmured at the distressed expression that claimed the woman’s face.

“You know,” Mia said. “I think I’ll powder my nose while you two sort this out.”

“No,” Damien said, catching her wrist before she could escape. “You’re the last person who needs to leave.”

“It’ll be easier to explain without me here.”

“Damn it.”

His jaw had tightened, but she knew he saw her point. As he released her hand, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back. I’ll leave you Jake for protection.”

“He’ll have to shoot
me
if you stay away too long,” he grumbled.

~

Coward that she was, Mia stashed her earpiece in her clutch purse. She didn’t need to overhear Damien’s sure to be awkward conversation with his besotted assistant.

The bathroom off the hotel lobby was old school fancy, with a uniformed towel attendant, a second door labeled
Ladies Lounge
, and multiple shell-shaped sinks. Mia used a stall, washed her hands, and checked her makeup in the long gilded mirror. Since her lipstick hadn’t strayed from where it belonged, she glanced at the exit door. Her side trip hadn’t taken long. Probably Damien and Ms. DeWinter were still at it.

“Is the lounge open?” she asked the female attendant.

“Of course, miss,” said the woman. “You’re welcome to sit in there if you need a rest. We stock Advil and everything.”

That really was full service. Mia smiled as she pushed through the separate door.

What she found behind it nearly made her back out again.

A spectacularly gowned blonde sat hunched on one of the fussy couches, quietly sobbing into her slender hands. Mia didn’t share some men’s aversion to female tears, but she wasn’t an indiscriminate nurturer. For one thing, she wasn’t good enough at saying the right thing.

Maybe, just this once, she’d be forgiven for not hand-patting a fellow member of her gender?

She would have slipped away if her brain hadn’t chosen that moment to do its memory thing. Suddenly, she
knew
the hands the woman was crying into. She’d seen them in a photograph, slapping the face of an older man. This was Zoe Raeburn, Sam Raeburn’s daughter, the very woman who supposedly stole Genbolt’s secret plans and gave them to Damien.

Curtis would repossess Mia’s decoder ring if she didn’t seize this opportunity to detect.

As an added plus, she could put off returning to Damien’s table a bit longer.

“Hey,” she said sympathetically, slipping onto the settee beside Zoe. “Are you all right? Would you like an Advil? The attendant said they keep a stash in here.”

“I’m fine,” Zoe said—not very convincingly, considering she could barely speak. “I don’t … have a headache.”

“How about tissues? I have some in my purse, or I could get you a cool damp towel.”

“Tissues would be great,” Zoe admitted.

Mia dug out the little packet and handed it over.

Zoe sat back to dab at her ruined face. “I must look a holy fright.”

“You’re a bit racoony, but I’ve seen worse.”

Zoe laughed shakily. Her tears were abating, and she pulled herself straighter. She was taller than Mia—probably naturally elegant. Despite her emotional storm, when she looked Mia in the eyes, she radiated the female version of her father’s king-of-the-world presence. If Damien considered her “just” a date, he really had high standards.

Zoe let the hand that held her squashed tissue fall. “You’re very nice,” she said to Mia.

“Well, um, I’m sure you’d do the same if our roles were reversed. Did some guy do you wrong?”

Mia hoped this wasn’t too leading. If it was, Zoe must have been in the mood to share. She exhaled heavily. “It’s always this way for women, isn’t it? Our fathers betray us, and our boyfriends, and then we betray ourselves. We get so used to distrusting men we don’t recognize a good one when he’s right in front of us.”

“The good ones are hard to find,” Mia said, suspecting originality wasn’t required here.

Zoe’s shoulders hitched, and she wiped at her eyes again. “Is it too much to ask for a second chance? To explain? To apologize?”

What did Zoe have to apologize for? Hadn’t she betrayed her father for Damien’s benefit?

“I’m sure it’s not,” Mia said uncertainly.

Zoe sagged back and sighed. Mia concluded Raeburn’s daughter had a teensy flare for the dramatic. Zoe turned her head, seeming to really notice Mia for the first time. Dramatic tendencies aside, she was intelligent. Her light blue eyes sharpened. “You’re Damien’s date for the fundraiser, aren’t you?”

Mia didn’t have to fake surprise. She hadn’t expected Zoe to know this. “Um, yes. I’m here as his guest.”

Zoe waved her crumpled tissue dismissively. “I don’t hold it against you. No woman could say
no
to him. He’s sexy and brilliant and charming and emotionally unavailable. That’s catnip for us women. We’re always falling for men who withhold themselves from us.”

Zoe was working up to an Oscar worthy performance, a prospect that alarmed Mia in spite of wanting her to talk. She decided to try the tack she’d used on Ms. DeWinter. “I don’t know Damien well enough to say. Our dating is just a convenient arrangement.”

“That’s what
I
thought, until the stupid man sneaked underneath my skin.” Zoe grabbed Mia’s hands without warning. “I could have helped him, if only he’d let me in. Anyone can tell he has intimacy issues, but he doesn’t want to get over them. He couldn’t even see how right I was for him!”

O-kay,
Mia thought. Did every woman who hung around Damien go nutso?

“Maybe you shouldn’t let yourself get this worked up over him,” she suggested. “He’s just a guy—an interesting guy, but still. Maybe date some other rich handsome dude and put Damien behind you.”

“You’ll see,” Zoe direly predicted. “One day you’ll be lunching in his private office, thinking you’ve got him exactly where you want him, and the next—” She snapped her fingers so loudly Mia jumped. “You’re sobbing your heart out in a public restroom, wishing you could delete his memory from your poor tormented brain.”