***
It was late by the time Amanda finished up. As she switched off her light and descended down the elevator, she found George sitting with his legs crossed, reading a newspaper.
“Are you still working?” she asked.
He dropped the paper enough to peer over its edge at her. “Indeed.”
She glanced at the shiny silver Audi parked by the curb.
“Well, I might not pass up an offer for a ride home.”
George folded the paper and stuck it under his arm. Rising, he slipped his black cap on and offered quietly, “Might I suggest an alternate route tonight?”
“Indeed,” Amanda murmured as she slipped inside the vehicle.
***
The doorman to her apartment building welcomed her in his crisp red coattails−a shade to match his plump cheeks. As he strode alongside her through the lobby she caught his troubled expression.
“Is there something wrong, Mr. Romley?”
The man paused before the private elevator to her penthouse apartment. Wringing pale hands, he glanced at the entryway.
“It would appear we had a stranger attempting to gain access to the apartments today.”
Amanda came alert. She swiped her purse strap higher up her shoulder and narrowed her eyebrows. “What happened?”
“No, no. Nothing to worry about,” he assured, although his pale eyes implied otherwise. “A uniformed man came in claiming to be a plumber. He said he was called to fix a leaking toilet.”
“Did he say which apartment?” she asked guardedly.
Mr. Romley’s blush spread.
“Well, he asked for access to your apartment, Miss Newton.”
Amanda’s stomach clenched. “I had no issues with my toilet.”
“Yes.” Mr. Romley wrenched his hands. “There was no need for me to disturb you. I know you would have advised me of any maintenance being done so that I could authorize access. I told the man that he was not on the approved list of visitors, and I sent him on his way.”
The doorman puffed out his chest at that. Amanda’s quick nod brought relief to his pinched features.
“Good,” she forced a smile. “What did he look like?”
“Hard to tell, Miss Newtown. He had a baseball hat low over his forehead. A hat with the plumbing logo on it. I saw dark hair, though.”
Amanda clasped her raincoat to ward off a chill. “Well, as always, thank you for your diligence.”
Mr. Romley beamed under her praise. He reached out to press the elevator button and swept an arm in invitation as the doors slid open.
“Rest assured, you are always safe here, madam.”
Offering a hasty word of gratitude, Amanda shouldered past and tucked herself into the far corner of the elevator.
Fatigue and tension gnawed at her muscles as she slipped into the apartment. Sleep had eluded her last night, and she doubted tonight would be any different.
The lights of London filtered through the huge casement windows. That ambient glow was not enough tonight. Marching through each room she threw on every switch until the suite glared. Retracing her steps, she tested the faucets in the kitchen and both bathrooms just to be sure.
A plumber?
It wasn’t a fluke. No matter how much she wanted to convince herself otherwise. It couldn’t possibly be a fluke. Someone wanted to gain access to her apartment.
As affluent as she may be, she was still a minimalist. For the amount of time she spent here it might as well have been a hotel. The furniture was upscale, but there was little in the form of expensive arts. A single painting hung in the living room above the fireplace. It was by no means lavish. She had picked it up at a kiosk in Covent Garden for maybe 20 pounds. It depicted a sunset in riveting violet and orange shades with rolling hills of golden grass. The painting had called to her from across the station. To this day she wasn’t certain if the painting soothed her or scared her, but it certainly wasn’t swank art worth breaking into this apartment for. There was no jewelry tucked away in a safe. She wore very little except for the ring that never left her hand.
Questions assailed her. She tuned them out and stood rooted in the harsh overhead lighting of her living room. She stared at that painting. She stared so hard she could feel the sharp sting of that golden grass lash at her hands.
CHAPTER TWO
Amanda sat at her office desk, glaring at the oversized monitor facing her. A grid of six faces stared back, some diffident, some determined. In the upper right-hand corner, Claudia Eichmann from the Berlin office knit her copper eyebrows together as she spoke over the others. Her words were a split-second behind the movement of her lips due to the video conferencing software.
“You are the head of this company. The backbone. The heart. What if something were to happen to you?”
Conscious of the web camera, Amanda tried to conceal her heavy sigh. “Each of you are fully capable of running BLUE-LINK. You are directors. You are the heart and backbone of your branch. You are my panel of advisors, and I only surround myself with skilled personnel.”
“We appreciate that,” Claudia continued, “but I am sure I speak for the others here in saying that we’re certainly not your equal. None of us would have wanted to take on that Eclipse lawsuit. At the end of the day, it is your company, and you are the one personally vested.”
Several heads bobbed in agreement.
“You need personal security,” Benjamin Forsyth from Australia inserted. “Not a seventy-five year old man.”
Amanda bristled at the attack on George.
“There is nothing sinister behind the assault in the alley,” she countered. Or the attempted break-in. “It’s simply a consequence of being affluent.”
“You are indifferent to your power,” Gerald Williams from Los Angeles chided, “recklessly walking the streets−I heard you even stop at the pub!”
That the ebony-eyed man in the center panel was correct didn’t detract from her need for freedom. She walked a narrow line and she knew it.
One flick of the power switch would eliminate their censure, but it would not fade the echoes of their points. She respected this panel. They wouldn’t be facing her right now if she didn’t.
“You recently used a security contractor with that Eclipse Line mess. He seemed very capable and very discreet,” Gerald from LA said. “We suggest that you bring him into the office for a consult. If you don’t speak to him directly, we just may−”
“You’ll call him on my behalf,” Amanda quickly tested. Her cheeks burned, but her demeanor remained a practiced blend of glacial elegance.
Gerald’s shoulders came into view as he shrugged. “We have a vested interest in your well-being.”
Amanda drew in a long breath and stared down at the reflection of the sun off her diamond ring. It cast a thousand microscopic prisms skittering across the polished wood surface.
“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. Allow me to confer with the police before I make any rash decisions.”
“Rash?” Claudia from Berlin hefted a burnished eyebrow. “This is not rash. This is something that should have been addressed long ago. To us you have always seemed larger than life.” The eyebrow fell. “But perhaps you are a tad human after all.”
Amanda didn’t know whether to be offended by that or not. Rather than dwell on it, she felt the verbal darts bounce feebly off her impenetrable armor.
Clearing her throat, she scanned her notes and began thickly, “Well, moving on from that topic. Are you all prepared to welcome our new director from Oslo next week?”
Was their delay on purpose, or a lag in the transmission? Finally, Benjamin from Australia nodded. “I see you already have a customer lined up. Innsjo Lumber in Fredrikstad.”
“Yes,” she replied, grateful the tide turned to subject matter that fulfilled her. “They are courting a new European client, but are fighting a high accident record in their plant.” Short-clipped pale nails slid down the handwritten text. “The concern
is a breakdown in preventative maintenance, and a blatant disregard of safety gear.”
“Sounds like our boss,” Benjamin snickered before quelling under Amanda’s death glare.
“We’ve arranged for a safety analysis team to walk through the plant and assess its viability−to set both the new client at ease, and to guide Innsjo Lumber towards a lucrative future.”
Several of the heads on her screen bobbed as others consulted their notes.
Amanda managed to avoid the original awkward topic as she drew the meeting to a close. In the stillness of her office, she marked their words and would schedule a ride home with George tonight.
***
An uneventful week passed. Well, not necessarily humdrum. BLUE-LINK was courting a new client−a Fortune 500 company. Meetings consumed any free time that might have been frittered away worrying about the recent attack in the alley, and attempted break-in. Only the occasional phone calls from the police interrupted her focus.
In retrospect, it was still so peculiar. The police kept up with the investigation only because of her clout. Their tone indicated that it was a simple case of a Mercedes in a dark alley−a prime target.
Too busy to dwell, Amanda waved at the receptionist as she entered the private elevator to her suite of offices at BLUE-LINK. As the panels slid shut she discovered that she was not alone.
In the corner, a tall man propped a muscular shoulder against the wall. His face was cast down as he reviewed his cell phone screen. Consulting her own phone, nonetheless she still managed to catch a glimpse of a brooding, but somewhat handsome face. Sandy-colored hair gleaned under the harsh overhead light.
Another cop? She had no visitors scheduled. Glancing at her phone, she confirmed that nothing was on the agenda for 1:15.
It was possible he was here to see one of her assistants. A husband perhaps? A furtive peek revealed no ring on his left hand. Of course not. She knew all of her assistants’ immediate family.
So, that brought back the cop theory. It ticked her off. Couldn’t they just do their job without consulting her every step of the way? Already angry at the presumed intrusion, she sucked in a breath when he glanced up from his phone. Riveting gold eyes pinned her against the wall. Eyes a shade darker than his hair.
“Excuse me,” he uttered in a first words of the morning deep voice. “Do you know which office belongs to Amanda Newton?”
Not a very resourceful cop. Didn’t he realize that he was staring at the very woman herself? Probably just a paper-pusher.
But something about his face looked familiar. It wasn’t pretty. It had flaws. A bristly shadow around his jaw. Sharp cheekbones−not the type a model would lust for, but rather a look of exposure, as if the elements had rubbed this man raw. The tawny hair was riddled with unkempt waves−cowlicks with a mind of their own. Dressed in jeans and a brown field jacket, his wide shoulders dominated the elevator.
“Are you a cop?” she asked with little candor.
The discreet smirk on full lips rattled her.
“Are cops a frequent sight around here?”
Ding went the door chime.
Thank you, Lord.
Amanda could feel the flush in her cheeks. The elevator must have been ten degrees hotter than the lobby she stepped out into.
She waved at the woman behind the expansive desk. “Miss Wyatt can help you, I’m sure.”
Making eye contact with the young brunette, Amanda gave her a get rid of him look.
Not daring a glance back, she continued to her office and slipped out of her raincoat, readying herself for a call to New York. As soon as silk met leather and she was settled behind the desk, a modicum of control returned.
The sound of a throat clearing ended that.
Amanda glared up at her door. Its frame was filled with the soaring silhouette of the man from the elevator.
“I’ve already spoken with the police,” she claimed, quickly shifting her attention to her laptop in dismissal.
“That’s great,” he muttered, audaciously approaching her desk.
Her eyebrows vaulted. “I am busy right now. You aren’t on my schedule. You will have to set up a time with Miss Wyatt.”
To her surprise he flashed white teeth before dropping down in the cushioned chair in front of her desk. He shifted the frame slightly so that he could sprawl out those long legs.
“You don’t even know me?” He faked a wounded tone. “Granted, we’ve never met face to face, but we have talked on several occasions.”
That nagging sensation that she recognized this attractive beast returned with a vengeance. But where?
Her mind was so busy racing that she barely heard him speaking.
“You don’t even know−”
“You asked me where Amanda Newton’s office was in the elevator,” she challenged. “So you don’t know me either.”
She couldn’t even recall the last time someone walked into this office wearing jeans. She wasn’t a snob. Some might think so, but they didn’t know her. The honest truth was that anyone who made it up to this office was generally spruced up…not in jeans. But God, they were an enticing change of scenery.
“I asked you that just to test your reaction,” he remarked casually as his head cocked to search the office. “Nice workplace, by the way. I’m guessing I should ask for a raise.”
Like a human computer, her mind raced through the personnel of nearly 300 branch offices. He was American. That narrowed the search down, but there were over 30 offices in the United States alone.
Drawing in a deep breath, she crossed her arms atop her desk and sat up straight. Once again composed, she asked, “Which office are you from?”
Golden Eye met her gaze and the mirth lines faded from the corners of his lips. “None. I am a consultant.”
A spark of recognition ignited. It was the voice she identified. In her defense, the last time she had heard it the words were torn away by the wind, barely comparable to the husky inflection that now washed over her.
“Raymond Gordon,” she stated, recalling the man who had been integral in handling the Eclipse mess in Maine. She had been in communication with him while he was on a speedboat, trying to rescue two innocent civilians caught up in a rogue military cover-up. His handling of that situation helped to end a lawsuit against BLUE-LINK.
The man winced and hooked an ankle over his knee. “Ray. Just Ray.”
He looked uncomfortable cooped up in the leather chair. She could easily envision him at the controls of that boat, racing across the Atlantic, the wind ruffling his sun-kissed hair. Even in the dead of winter his face was slightly tanned, slightly craggy, and full of life. He was a man of the elements and he looked as out of place in this office as she would at a rodeo. It was the rawness in his face that attracted her. He didn’t have to present himself in a certain way to the rest of the world. He had a, this is what you get air about him.
Edgy, Amanda pulled back her shoulders and forced herself to meet his eyes. She never had a problem staring someone down across a desk. Why on earth would she start now?
“What can I do for you, Mr. Gordon?”
Oh no. Was he here looking for a bonus? Was he really here looking for a little something extra in his pay check for security duties that went above and beyond the call in that Maine assignment?
She hated the disappointment that wrangled through her.
“What can I do for you, Miss Newton?” he rumbled, breaking into her reflection.
“Excuse me?”
Ray leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands steepled together. “I was called here on a new security assignment.”
Feeling dry in the throat, Amanda coughed. “And that is?”
A tawny eyebrow arched. “To protect you.”
***
Amanda Newton’s porcelain, heart-shaped face blanched. The contrast made her flaring blue eyes all the more vivid. Almost immediately, the composed creature returned to stare him down coolly.
Man
, she was a looker. Long, glossy blonde hair. If the Caribbean ocean were to ever freeze over, it would resemble the color and temperature of her gaze. He focused on the soft dip of her throat as she swallowed. Trailing lower he lost himself in the clash of pale flesh and a silky white blouse. That blouse was so smooth it would slide off her with just the touch of his breath. There was no guessing the cost of the material.
“Clearly there has been some mistake,” she responded levelly. “I have not requested your security services. I acknowledge that you did a stellar job with the Eclipse case, and I am sure we will reach out and contract you again in the future.”
She splayed her hands flat on the rich mahogany surface. Short, perfectly manicured nails sported clear polish, or just gleamed naturally. The flash on her right hand caught his attention. The stone was magnificent. A pale blue diamond, a shade lighter than the color of her eyes. It irked him that he was pleased to find it on her right hand.
Seeing a picture of this woman online sure didn’t live up to the real thing. Maybe his announcement had tested her balance for a second, but poise defined her. Cool. Unflappable. Even now she studied him with a practiced patience. For one uncomfortable moment he felt like sitting up straighter. For a ridiculous instant he wished he had put on a tie.
To hell with that. He was here to do a job. No more, no less. In fact, he had been reluctant to even accept this assignment, but the pay would go a long way in funding the security firm he was planning to open. These contracting jobs were a means to an end. Three former Navy SEALs from his team had committed to his project. They were even in preliminary talks with the CEO of a major computer manufacturing company to provide a permanent security detail for the multi-millionaire executive. Permanent. No more contracting. Lots of income.
But before he could concentrate on that he had to deal with this alluring, high-powered Ice Queen.
“I was hired by your panel of advisors,” he explained. “From what I understand, this one is not your call.”
Dusk Page 2