Copy Cap Murder (5 page)

“You're giving him exactly what he wants,” I said. I clutched Harrison's arm. “Please don't do this.”

Harrison met my gaze for a moment and his eyes softened with affection. I thought I had gotten through to him, but before I could even register his movement, he spun around and blocked an incoming punch from Win, who had taken a swing at him while his back was turned. Then Harry walloped the drunk with an uppercut that made Win's teeth clack.

I heard shouts of dismay or approval coming from the people behind us, but I couldn't take my eyes off the two men in front of me. I felt adrenaline surge through my body as Win lowered his head and charged Harrison, looking to do some damage.

Harrison took the hit by wrapping his arms around Win. The two of them crashed to the ground. Harrison twisted so that Win landed on the bottom. The huff of air he emitted made me think he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Harrison pulled back his fist and plowed it into Win's eye.

I yelped, so helpful I know, and Harrison glanced up at me. Our eyes met and I said, “Please stop.”

Harry looked reluctant. His nostrils were flared and his fists were still clenched. I had a feeling he was nowhere near done.

“Please, Harry,” I said. I couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt, and I really loathed being a part of an ugly scene. I've had my fill of those, thank you very much.

Harry let go of Win and rolled off him. As he staggered to his feet and began to walk toward me, Win rose up from the ground with a brick in his hand. I had no doubt he was going for Harrison's head.

“Look out!” I cried.

A body dove out of the crowd and tackled Win to the ground. When Harrison would have jumped back in, I grabbed his arm and held him back.

“No!” I said.

The man sitting on Win grabbed the brick from his hand and tossed it aside. Then he leaned forward and shouted in his face, “Enough, Dashavoy!”

Win slumped back onto the ground, clearly done. The man sitting on him turned and grinned at me.

“So, Scarlett, is Viv here tonight?”

Alistair Turner hadn't even muddied his coat in his takedown of Winthrop Dashavoy. He and Harrison were longtime rugby mates and I knew he carried a small flickering torch for Viv, even though he was aware that she was married.

“She's here somewhere,” I said.

“Excellent,” he said. “I'll just get this git some ice for his eye and see if I can track her down.”

“She'll be happy to see you, Alistair,” I said.

“Is she still married?” he asked.

“As far as I know,” I said with a shrug. With Viv, these things were fuzzy.

He looked momentarily disappointed but then brightened. “Well, if he's not here, then I say her dance card is all mine.”

He left us, dragging Winthrop Dashavoy behind him as if he were no more significant than a bag of trash.

I turned to face Harrison with a look on my face that felt positively matronly in its disapproval.

“What?” he asked.

“That was a ridiculous display,” I said.

“I know.” He shook out his right hand. “Whatever was he thinking?”

“I meant both of you,” I said. “Disgraceful behavior and over me, I just can't approve of that sort of thing.”

“It wasn't completely over you,” Harrison said. He took his jacket out of my arms and shrugged back into it.

“Well, that's deflating,” I said.

He laughed and I felt it all the way to my squishy center. See? I must be allergic to him. He draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close as we strolled over to the bonfire. The people who had witnessed the scuffle moved aside to let us through and I heard a few of them shout out encouragement to Harrison. Barbarians.

“So what happened to our wine?” I asked.

“When I saw you rucking with Win, I left it at the bar,” he said. He indicated the temporary bar on the other side of the yard. “I'll just go fetch it.”

“Wait,” I said. “What does ‘rucking' mean? Because just so you know, it does not sound polite at all.”

He made a face as if he got where I was going. “Nothing like that! It means fighting.”

“Okay, then,” I said. I could live with that since it was true. Harrison left, and as I watched him, I stretched my left arm out. I'd only grappled with the drunkard for a few minutes, but it felt as if I'd gone three rounds in a prizefight.

As the adrenaline eased, my hands began to shake. Wine might not be a bad idea. Under the cover of the darkness, I watched Harrison retrieve our mulled wine. I enjoyed watching him. I felt as if it gave me a glimpse into who he really was to see him interact with his other business associates.

I saw him stop to talk to people who I assumed were his clients. He seemed comfortable, despite the recent scene, and he even threw his head back with a laugh, which was surprised out of him by an older gentleman in a bright green coat. Even from across the yard, I could feel a mutual affection between Harrison and the man. I couldn't even imagine Winthrop Dashavoy pausing to laugh at an older man's joke.

I glanced into the fire thinking about the world of high finance and how it turned some people into really horrible human beings. If you asked me, Win and that Tuesday woman made a perfect pair; maybe more should be done to bring those two awfuls together.

I spun a variety of scenarios in my head, not limited to getting them both drunk and locking them in a room together to more subtle maneuvers like sending them flowers or candy from each other. No, I wouldn't really do any of those things but it was amusing to think about.

When I glanced up, Harrison appeared beside me with two thick glass mugs full of a steaming burgundy liquid garnished with a cinnamon stick and a spiraled orange peel. He handed one to me, and I took it gratefully.

“It occurs to me that I should clarify what I said earlier,” he said.

“In what way?” I asked.

“The fight between Win and me was about you in that seeing him touch you made me feel the need to punch him repeatedly, but the enmity between us goes way back,” Harrison said. “All the way back to boarding school, in fact.”

“You went to boarding school? How did I not know that?”

I took a sip of my wine. The spicy cinnamon and tart orange made the pungent wine taste divine and it heated me up from the inside out.

“I went to Eton when I was thirteen,” he said.

“And the last time I saw you when we were kids, you were twelve,” I said.

“Yes, you stood me up on our ice cream date to chase some dodgy football player,” he said.

“You're never going to forgive me, are you?” I asked.

“I might,” he said. “Assuming, of course, that when you start dating again, it involves ice cream and me.”

I burst out laughing. “Well, that brings some tawdry images to mind.”

His cheeks darkened with embarrassment and then he laughed, too. “You absolutely wreck me, you know that, right?”

I wasn't sure that he meant it as a compliment, but I took it as one.

“So you wore Eton blue? Did you meet anyone famous there?” I asked. Yes, I was angling for any gossip about the royals. How could I help it?

“A fair few,” he said. He did not name names. Darn it.

“Mostly, I realized no matter the status of your birth, you're just a teenager living with a bunch of other
teenagers, trying to survive puberty and homesickness as best you can,” he said.

I felt my heart squinch up a bit at that. I didn't like the idea of Harrison feeling lonely at school or anywhere for that matter. I took another sip of wine to stop myself from impulsively giving him a hug.

“But then there were students like Win,” he said.

“Was he a bully?” I asked.

“The worst sort,” Harrison said with a shake of his head. “Every school has them but Win singled out the scholarship kids, like me, for the brunt of his wrath. That's actually where Alistair and I met, too. He had my back then and clearly he still does.”

“He's a good man,” I said. Alistair was an attorney who had helped a client of ours when she was pinched for a crime she didn't commit. That told me more than enough about his character but it was nice to hear that he had always been there for Harrison.

“You can imagine how thrilled I was when both Win and I ended up at Carson and Evers,” Harrison said. “I had thought university might have helped Win to mature but no. He's still just as vile as he was when we were first years.”

“But he can't bully you on the job, can he?” I asked.

“No, but that's mostly because Tyler Carson is my mentor whereas Jason Evers was Win's. Jason passed on two years ago and Tyler refused to take on Win as a protégé,” Harrison said. “Reese, Jason's widow, took him on but it's not the same and Tyler's snub grates on Win, but it's justified. Win is a terrible analyst and an even worse advisor.
Be glad I'm your business manager and he isn't, otherwise, I'm quite sure you'd be broke.”

“His personal history makes it seem as if he has only a passing familiarity with ethics,” I said. “Does Tyler know this?”

“He might suspect,” Harrison said. “As do I, but I haven't been able to prove anything. Win's family is loaded, and if ever there is even a hint of wrongdoing, the injured party is compensated and the inquiry dropped.”

“Does Win know you're watching him?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Harrison said. He took a long sip of his wine and then smiled. “And he hates me for it, so I consider that a plus.”

“So, most likely, luring me out into the dark and groping me was Win's idea of revenge against you?” I asked.

“I think so,” he said.

“What a jerk!” I squawked.

“In Win's defense, if one can be made, you are immensely gropable,” Harrison said.

I blinked at him and then I started to laugh. Probably, it was the wine going to my head but his words struck me so funny, I couldn't help but chuckle.

“Why Harry, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” I said and patted his arm.

He smiled and there was something in his gaze that made the laughter stall on my lips. It was a look ripe with intent, and I knew exactly what his intention was and I didn't mind a bit.

Harrison and I had kissed before. It had been months ago when he was concussed and I was watching over him, because it was sort of my fault. Really, it was the bad guy's
fault but why quibble. In any event, I had never forgotten the kiss or the way it had made me feel, which was loopy in the best possible sense of the word.

“Ginger, I know you're not dating—” he began but I cut him off by taking his glass and mine and putting them down on a nearby table; then I grabbed the front of his jacket and hauled him close.

“But what?” I asked.

Desperation was probably wafting off me like a bad smell. I didn't care. As a serial dater, I was feeling desperate. Up until now, the longest I'd ever gone without dinner and a movie was two weeks. The past eight months of nada on the man front was making me a little squirrelly.

“I think I need to kiss—” he began but was interrupted before he could finish.

“There they are! I told you they'd be by the fire.”

“You did not.”

“You said they'd be on the terrace, yeah?”

“No, he said upstairs.”

“I did not.”

Unbelievable! Our friends arrived
now
, not five minutes from now, not one minute from now, no, they had to find us right now.

I let go of Harrison's jacket and smoothed the lapel with my hands. When I turned around, Nick, Andre, Viv, Fee and Alistair were all looking at us expectantly.

“Timing, as they say, is everything,” Harrison said from behind me.

I was pretty sure I heard the same disappointment I was feeling in his voice. Then I reminded myself that this was the Universe keeping me true to my word. I had four
months to go to make it to one year man free. I would make it, even if it killed me, which seemed more and more likely the more time I spent with Harrison.

“I was just dusting Harrison off from his brawl,” I said. I looked at Alistair. “Did Win get some ice for his eye?”

“I left him in the very capable hands of the caterer,” he said. “Nasty swelling on his cheekbone. Nice punch, mate.”

Alistair gave Harrison an approving look and I frowned. “Don't encourage him.”

“Thanks,” Harrison said. When I let out an impatient huff, he added, “For intercepting him.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Alistair said. He looked at Viv and flexed his upper arm in a show of strength that was well hidden beneath the layers of his coat. “I saved your business manager from a thrashing.”

“Hey!” Harrison protested.

“What?” Nick asked. He ran a hand through his thinning blond hair. “There was a fight and we missed it!”

“Not a fight,” I said. “More like a shoving match.”

Harrison gave me a chagrined look.

“Who is Win?” Fee asked.

“Harrison's office rival,” Viv said. “A real pain in the ar—”

“She knows about Win?” I asked Harrison.

“She's visited me at the office,” he said. “They've met.”

“Was he as charming to her as he was to me?” I asked.

“No,” Harrison said, leaning close so only I could hear him. “I suspect he's figured out that you're something special.”

And just like that, all was forgiven, the brawling, the fact that Viv had been to his office and I hadn't, and that
we missed our chance to kiss. Yes, I am hopelessly easy when it comes to flattery. But you have to admit that being called “something special” can go to a girl's head.

Several spotlights snapped on, illuminating the back terrace, and there stood Tyler Carson. On one side of him was his partner, Reese Evers, and on the other his wife, Ava Carson.

Maybe it was my non-monarchist upbringing but I found the way they stood over the crowd a bit off-putting. Then again, it was their company that made vast sums of money for all of the people in attendance, so I supposed there was a bit of the overlord to them.