Читать книгу Sparks - Dara Girard - Страница 8

“I’m sorry about this.”

Dawn Ajani smiled at the man in front of her. She thought it was better than strangling him. Lionel Redding’s deep-set brown eyes looked apologetic. He had nice eyes and wore a great cologne. He smelled wonderful. It was the first thing she noticed about him beside his large size. Too bad the guy was a pig. A late afternoon sun sent pale strips of light into the room, highlighting his thinning black hair and glinting against the silver letter opener on her desk. Its pointy tip was a tempting weapon. Dawn pushed it out of reach.

“I regret having taken up so much of your time,” he continued. “You have impressive credentials of course.”

Dawn kept her smile, although her cheeks were beginning to ache. A patronizing, lying fathead.

“But I’m considering the Layton Group because they have the kind of manpower and resources I need to handle a company of my size.”

Trying not to gag, Dawn nodded, making a noncommittal sound that could be mistaken for understanding.

“They have a more established reputation—”

“I am well aware of Layton’s excellent reputation,” she interrupted. “I helped create it.”

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

Her smile grew malicious. “But of course you know all about that.” Dawn leaned back in her chair and tapped her finger against the desk. She noticed her mauve nail polish was chipped and folded her hand into a fist. “I find it amazing that it took you four hours to come to that conclusion.”

“Yes, well I was interested in all that you had to say.”

“Really? Personally, I find it a relief that you decided not to use my services. It would likely take you half a day to decide which tax form you would like to use.”

He stiffened. “Now, Ms. Ajani—”

“Please. Do not pretend that you had any intention of using my services, Mr. Redding.” He opened his mouth; she held up her forefinger. He closed it. “I admit that when you first came in here I was flattered by your initial consideration, but I now know that it was all a ruse.” He opened his mouth again; she narrowed her eyes. He closed it and folded his arms. “And how did I know?” She didn’t allow him to answer. “Because you seemed ‘unnaturally’ interested in the location of my apartment, my latest vacation, and both my professional and private life. While I have no problem sharing trivial information such as whether I prefer the color blue or gray.” She paused. “Incidentally, I prefer neither color, you can put that down if you find it pertinent.” She gestured to the pad where he had been taking notes. “I do take offense to nosy busybodies.”

His arms fell to his sides. “I wanted to know if you had any other obligations which may have affected your attention to my needs.”

Dawn rested her chin in her hand. “Just how much attention do you need, Mr. Redding?” She raised her hand. “Never mind, I am not interested. If you need the kind of attention I think you do, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong company. However, you can find such companies under the heading of Escort Services in the Yellow Pages.”

His lips disappeared into his fleshy round face. He drew in his prominent chin, causing the second one to quiver. “Ms.—”

“You’ve wasted enough of my time and I plan to be compensated.”

He widened his eyes. “You said that the first consultation was free.”

“But this wasn’t a consultation, was it? It was an underhanded attempt by your client to discover how well I am doing in my new business. My initial consultations take one hour, Mr. Redding. You were an exception. It wasn’t hard for me to discover that you are a private investigator. To be exact, you asked a series of such inane questions I was amazed anyone running a business could be so inept.”

“I won’t sit here and be insulted. I—”

“Don’t be. I’m complimenting you, Mr. Redding.” She shook her head and laughed without humor. “For a moment there I thought I would have better progress conversing with a tree stump.”

He lifted his briefcase onto his lap and opened it. “I knew working with a woman was a mistake.” He shoved his papers inside. “You become so emotional and—”

“How much did Brandon pay you to come here?”

He snapped the briefcase shut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Would you like me to repeat it slowly or write it down?”

His face turned an unhealthy red. “Now—”

She wagged a finger. “There’s no need to get emotional, Mr. Redding, I merely asked a question.”

“You—”

“How much did he pay you?”

“Nothing.”

Dawn stood and came from behind the desk. “Let me frame it a different way. Will you be paid for information you didn’t gather?” She leaned against the table. “Knowing Brandon, he only paid you a third of what you agreed on and will not pay you further unless you supply him with the information he wants. Now wouldn’t you hate to have gone through all this trouble for nothing?”

Lionel glanced away.

“Let me help you out.”

He sent her a curious glance.

“I could give you some of the information you seek, for a small fee.”

“No.”

She folded her arms under her breast and sighed heavily. His gaze dipped. It was a cheap trick, but she was pleased it worked. “Very well. If you don’t want the juicy tidbit I could give you, that’s your choice.”

His face remained impassive, but his eyes lit with interest. “Juicy tidbit?”

“That is correct.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Okay. It’s a deal. What do you have for me?”

“So you admit that Brandon sent you to spy on me?”

“Yes.”

Dawn held out her hand. He hesitated, then handed her a few bills. She counted them then folded them up. She grinned at him when he glanced at her cleavage. “No, I’m not going to put them there.” He colored a bit and looked away.

She put the money in her purse. “Good. You can go now.”

Lionel surged to his feet. “Wait. What about the juicy tidbit?”

Dawn opened her desk drawer and pulled out a tangerine. “It’s delicious. Enjoy.” She placed it in his palm.

He stared at the tangerine, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

She walked across the room and opened the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Redding.”

“You’re a conniving, lying…”

She bowed as though he’d offered her a compliment. “Welcome to Washington, D.C., Mr. Redding. Good day.”

After Redding left, Dawn closed the door then went over and stood by the window. She used to have a view of Wisconsin Avenue with its well-dressed people and designer cars. Not anymore. Although she did see cars: she had an unblocked view of a parking lot.

Dawn tapped a finger against the wall. She used to have everything until Brandon Layton, her then lover and business partner, had convinced the board that as vice president, she had been involved in shady deals with the company’s finances. They voted her out of office within a week.

Looking out the window, she suddenly spotted a tall lanky man acting strangely. He was wearing a gray overcoat, and his reddish-brown hair stuck up all over his head—from the wind or by design she wasn’t sure. He wandered around the parking lot, probably searching for his car. Dawn folded her arms then frowned at the tightness under her arms. This jacket used to fit—loosely. She took it off and tossed it over her chair. A lot of her clothes used to fit, but not anymore.

Wouldn’t Brandon just love to know about the extra fifteen pounds she’d picked up since their breakup? Her slim figure had actually gotten rather curvy. She looked at the box of donuts on the table and grabbed a half-eaten one: chocolate with coconut topping. She stopped with it halfway to her mouth. She shouldn’t. She should eat fruits, nuts and low-fat shakes. She should jog every morning and drink lots of water. She should really try to eat healthy.

She sighed. Dropped the donut back in the box and tossed it in the trash bin on the side of her desk. Her stomach rumbled. She could still smell the sweet scent of powdered sugar, coconut shavings and chocolate. But she would resist. She had to get into shape.

Dawn took a step back from her trash bin and turned back to the window. The man was still wandering. She opened the window. A light breeze from winter’s lasting hold struck her face. From her view on the fourth floor she could see the entire lot. Perhaps she could help. She called down to him. “What does it look like?”

The man jumped and spun around looking wildly around him.

“Up here,” she said waving.

He glanced up and shielded his eyes against the sun. “Yeah?”

“Your car. What does it look like?”

“I own a green Chevy.”

Dawn scanned the lot. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any green Chevys. Perhaps you drove something else today.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t drive here.” He pointed to his watch. “It’s supposed to be here waiting for me.”

Dawn glanced at her clock. He probably meant the bus. “No, you don’t catch the bus here. The stop is five blocks up the road.”

“I’m not looking for the bus. I’m waiting for the Parva.”

“Never heard of it. Is it a new tour company?”

“It’s my spaceship. I was certain the Telkain people would meet me here today. Have you seen them? Their friends have to return and I’m going with them. They’re really small, but have a laser that will shrink me so that I will be allowed to join them.”

Dawn sighed. Great. First a pig, now a nutcase. Her theory was correct. There were no more decent men left. “Sorry, I haven’t seen them.”

“Do you want to? I have them right here.” He opened his overcoat. She did not see the Telkain people, but she did see everything else.

Dawn ducked back inside, hitting her head on the window frame. She swore and shut the window.

Her assistant Simone Brackus peeked her head inside. Her greenish-brown eyes showed concern. “Are you okay?” she asked in a deep melodic voice that belied her petite size and delicate features.

Dawn rubbed the back of her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Well?” Simone asked, waving her hands impatiently.

“We didn’t get the job. Brandon hired him to snoop.”

She sighed. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“I know.” She looked at the stack of mail—bills mostly. If she didn’t get a job soon Ajani Consulting will have to go on hiatus permanently. Brandon would love that!

“Another hard day?” Martin, the security guard, asked her as she made her way to the elevators in her apartment.

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow will be better.”

“Thanks.” Dawn stepped into the elevator and watched the doors closed. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

Jordan Taylor didn’t believe in ghosts until his ex-wife began to haunt him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dead yet. Not that he ever harbored any thoughts of killing her. Killing her memory would be much more satisfying. Twisting its neck until all life was gone and throwing it in a trash heap to be forgotten. Yes, that would make his life perfect. Well, almost perfect.

He stared down at his bedroom floor, watching the red glow of his digital clock pierce the shadows amid the low lamplight. It mingled with the moonlight that splashed a pale glow on the carpet. Nobody thought he knew what he was doing as the new CEO of The Medical Institute. They were right, but they didn’t need to know that. And he wasn’t going to tell them.

The early April breeze tapped against his window. For a moment he considered inviting it in, letting the wind’s cool breath numb his body, perhaps freeze his thoughts. But he didn’t move.

He drummed his fingers against the mattress as his mind betrayed him, rehashing memories he’d wanted to banish, repeating words he wanted to forget. Do you take this woman—Within minutes the entire vow repeated in his memory as it had for years—for as long as you both shall live? He wondered if other grooms looked at their beloved and suddenly felt sick.

He had looked into his ex-wife’s eyes and saw the hope, commitment, and what he had mistaken for love, shining in her sweet, brown gaze and quickly pushed his doubts aside. He had willingly handed the preacher the key to his chains with two simple words: I do. Damn. He flexed his fingers, pushing the thought away.

A man should not be judged solely by his mistakes, and he did not plan on making any more. He was a simple, practical man and knew the best way to avoid future misjudgments was to act in a manner that prevented them.

He would never allow himself to be trampled on by a woman’s ambition.

He would never find himself in a situation he could not control.

He would never be ruled by emotion.

With that criteria he was certain Maxine would never happen again.

Maxine. Even her name had power, conjuring up memories like a genie from a bottle: elusive but no less real. A simple thing—a word, a fragrance—would transport him to the death of his marriage. To the death of his dream of home and family. He shook his head in frustration. What a fool he’d been.

“Jordan?”

He had to forget and think about the business. The Medical Institute was the best way to prove that he deserved the Taylor name. With the help of Ajani Consulting he would make it one of the most renowned in the region.

“Jordan? Jordan!”

Slowly his muscles relaxed as he felt gentle kisses on his neck. He emptied his mind and gave into the soft caress. Yes, finally a brief peace. Suddenly, teeth bit in to his flesh. He leaped up, grabbing his neck.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” He glared at Gail. She had a satisfied smirk on her face. He had been dating her for four months and that smirk was becoming a common, if not annoying, expression.

“It was the only way to get your attention,” she said without apology.

He rubbed his neck then glanced at his hand. “Did you draw blood?”

She slowly licked her lips. “No, but I tried.”

His anger dissolved. He fell back and let out a weary sigh.

“Jordan?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. When I start to think—”

“Yes, I know. There’s no harm letting someone into your thoughts.”

“They aren’t worth sharing.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Maybe. But, honey, it’s no fun making love to a man whose mind isn’t there.” She stood up and gathered her clothes.

He watched her, his heart sinking with regret. He shouldn’t let her go, but he would. He always let them go. He should jump up and grab her in his arms, say the words she wanted to hear. Ask her not to leave. Ask her to be patient with him, give him time. All he needed was time.

Gail Walters was the type of woman men held on to. Either because they wanted to or they needed to—it didn’t matter the reason. They just did. She was attractive—her eyes a bewitching hazel, her skin an almost edible mocha. He smiled as he thought of the very satisfying meals he’d enjoyed throughout their acquaintance. She was kind, a rare trait in most ambitious women, and she didn’t have that desperate look of a woman looking for a breeder. She was also smart. Not that it was a requirement, but it was a nice bonus.

She was good for him, someone he could hold on to—trust. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t stop him from letting her go. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved someone else. Someone who would be there for her. Someone who felt like a whole person instead of half of one.

Jordan sat up on his elbows and watched her pull on her sweater. “You’re leaving?” It was a stupid question, but he had nothing else to say.

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, resigned. She sat down on the bed and pulled on her boots.

The room was too quiet. Silence pounded in his ears. When he wasn’t living in his mind, he liked to have noise around him. “Look, Gail—”

She held her hand up and looked at him, tears swimming in her eyes. His heart constricted. She spoke, her voice a whisper. “No, please don’t say anything.”

Fine. He wouldn’t speak, but he couldn’t sit there and watch her cry. He hated to see a woman cry, especially if he was the cause. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. She leaped to her feet, as though he’d burned her. She glanced around the room then looked down at him. “When’s the last time you smiled, Jordan?”

He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She shrugged then grabbed her jacket. “Forget it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gail.”

“I know,” she said quietly, looking at everything in the room but him. “That’s what hurts the most.” She went to the door.

He jumped out of bed and spun her around. “Gail—”

She briefly closed her eyes, tired. “Don’t do this. I’m not strong enough to fight you. We both know this isn’t working. I’m not the one.”

He let her arms go. “The one what?”

She looked up at him, her voice soft. “The one to give you back your heart.”

He lifted a brow, more amused than offended. “You think I’m heartless?”

“No. I think you’re afraid of loving someone again.”

His jaw twitched. “It’s only been four months. You can’t expect me to love you yet.”

She folded her arms and leaned against the door. “I’m not even sure you like me.”

“Of course I like you. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

She shook her head, her long bangs swinging back and forth. “I’m just here because you don’t want to be alone. You’re afraid of being alone.”

“No, I—”

She placed two fingers against his lips, her voice firm. “You’re afraid of being alone, but the sad thing is you already are.” She let her fingers fall. “You won’t allow anyone close.” She turned and headed for the stairs.

He followed. “That’s not true. I spend a lot of time in my head and—”

“Ignore that someone else is in the room and trying to make love to you. Do you think that’s normal?”

He narrowed his eyes and held up a hand. “Just give me a minute to come up with a good response. I’m sure I have one.”

Gail glanced skyward then grabbed her purse from the hall table. She opened the door.

“That’s not true,” he said.

She sent him a cool glance over her shoulder. “That’s your big reply? Your witty comeback?”

He scratched his head, chagrined. “A minute hasn’t passed yet.”

“It’s over, Jordan.”

Her words should have hurt him. He hoped he didn’t look relieved. He let his gaze fall, and his voice deepened with regret. “I know.”

He listened to her heels click down the concrete steps. They stopped then came up the steps again. He could feel her looking at him, feel her considering giving him another chance. Perhaps he had played the rejected suitor too well. “If you want to try—” she began.

He met her gaze determined to look defeated, but brave. “You deserve better.”

The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Right.” She folded her arms. “So now who’s dumping whom?”

He blinked. This was the danger with dating smart women. “You’re dumping me.”

She stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his neck. He could smell the peach lotion she loved to wear. “Why?”

Instinctively his arm went around her waist; perhaps they could break up tomorrow. “Because the only thing I have to offer is a fun night in bed.”

She glanced down then searched his face. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

His voice hardened. “I wasn’t.”

She sighed and stepped back. “It’s such a waste.”

“What is?”

“Your face.”

“What do you mean by that?” He rubbed his cheek. “It’s served me well.”

“Yes, I know. I analyze things for a living and your face is one of the best illusions I’ve ever seen.” She raced down the steps before he could reply. “Bye,” she called, then jumped in her car and drove off.

Jordan watched her drive away and out of his life. His relief slipped into guilt then annoyance. He was used to the sadness and sometimes the tears, but he hadn’t expected pity. She had no right to pity him. He didn’t mind being alone, he just didn’t prefer it. Why deny yourself something when you had a choice?

He stared into the dark, quiet street lined with parked cars and a newly paved sidewalk. The headlights from a car coming up the drive next door caught his attention. He watched his neighbor, Lana Patterson, climb out of her red Acura. She was an attractive woman of forty-three and had tried for weeks to start up a flirtation. He had rebuffed her efforts. Not because she was older or because her son was on the police force, but because she lived next door. Definitely not affair material. When he broke up with a woman he wanted her gone. He liked things to end clean.

He waved at her, feeling in the neighborly mood. “Evening, Lana.”

She looked at him and her mouth fell open. Suddenly, her face spread into an amused smile. “Hi, Jordan. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re not cold? The wind doesn’t bother you?”

“No, the weather’s great. I can feel spring in the air.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can feel a lot of things.” She laughed and went inside.

He shook his head confused by her laughter and rested his hands on his hips. That’s when he knew why she was laughing. He’d forgotten to put his clothes on.