Lucifer's Lover

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  “It’s not trust, then,” he concluded.

  They cleaned up the basement in silence.

  As Edward reached to turn off the lights, he glanced at her. “It seems to me you just don’t know him well enough.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Your mother would always say, ‘Know your enemy.’ Usually when she was taking an associate out for dinner.”

  “I work with him eight hours a day, every weekday. That should be enough to know someone.”

  Edward shrugged but she saw his doubt. He switched off the lights and they climbed the stairs in the dim light spilling from the kitchen.

  Know your enemy.

  Her mother would by now have known everything about Luke Pierse right down to his shoe size and what side of the bed he preferred. She was slipping.

  Lindsay glanced at the calendar hanging on the fridge as she passed it. October. Three months to go until her birthday and she hadn’t made general manager yet. She grimaced. Pulling in this medical association account might be just what she needed to push her into the GM position.

  She had to make it by January. She had to. Or her mother would be proved right.

  But first she had to beat Lucifer Furey Pierse to do it.

  Chapter Three

  She was freezing her butt off.

  Lindsay stamped her feet, the heavy snow boots dumping the layer of snow that had accumulated on the toes. She jumped up and down, her hands under her arms. It was a vain attempt to gain a little warmth.

  It seemed like she was the only one who was feeling the cold. There were a few people sitting on the brushed-off benches and tables scattered across the deck but everyone else seemed to be heading out onto the ski slopes, their skis and poles over their shoulders. Or else they were competently pushing themselves around the snow, gearing up for the down slope. Everyone seemed to be having a perfectly wonderful time doing it, too.

  Lindsay was standing on the observation deck attached to the café and cable car terminal at the top of the private ski runs for the Gardner Country Club. She was waiting for Dr. Martin Arquette, president of the state medical association, who was here for recreation and to scout out locations and facilities for the national symposium the association would be hosting, as well as their annual general meeting.

  Her father’s tip had panned out. Arquette was a member of the exclusive country club and after three days of haggling and bribes and a hefty membership fee, so was Lindsay.

  By keeping her ears open, she had learned that Arquette would be on the slopes today and she had made her way up here as soon as the cable car had opened, to wait for Arquette to turn up.

  She wasn’t sure how she was going to work the rest of it. Somehow she would have to introduce herself and she was fairly sure that everything else would fall into place after that. She hoped.

  But meanwhile, she was freezing her butt off. And the sun kept dazzling her and making her eyes water.

  She kept overhearing people talking about what a knockout day it was. How beautiful the snow looked. How fresh and clean and majestic the mountains were.

  All Lindsay knew was that her snow suit, which was guaranteed for temperatures down to thirty below, was anything but warm and her ears were aching with the cold. And she wished she’d had the foresight to bring sunglasses.

  Another load of skiers were stepping off the cable car. Lindsay scanned them hopefully. She had several photographs and pictures of Arquette and knew what he looked like. She picked out the taller men and studied them.

  The tallest one among them was dressed in black, with no hat but mirrored sunglasses that Lindsay envied. Thick, very dark brown hair.

  Oh no, please not…

  She stepped a little closer to the protrusion in the chalet wall made by the chimney stack. Perhaps he wouldn’t see her.

  No such luck.

  Luke’s head moved around as he scanned the deck and the disguising sunglasses fixed on her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile and she saw him nod.

  He came over.

  “Thought I’d find you here. How long have you been hovering around the cable car, waiting for Arquette to show up?”

  “None of your business,” Lindsay shot back. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same business as yours, Lynds. Although I think I found an easier way than you. You look very cold, there.”

  “I’m freezing!” Lindsay said, throwing away her pride so she could wrap her arms around her middle.

  “Well, it’s twenty below,” he pointed out. “I can warm you up, if you want.”

  “Oh, please. Do you know how old that line is?”

  He held up both his gloved hands. “I swear, I can get you warm without laying a single finger on you.”

  “Thanks but I’ll pass for now.” She shivered and hugged herself again.

  “Why didn’t you just ring Arquette up and ask for an appointment? Why all the subterfuge?”

  Lindsay stared at him, lost for words. Damn, why hadn’t she? “Too obvious,” she said, at last. “Is that what you did—phone Arquette?”

  “No.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing. “Too obvious. Although I didn’t spend a fortune on club membership just to trick him into believing I love skiing as much as he does, either.”

  Lindsay clenched her jaw, annoyed that he had seen through her plan so easily.

  His smile broadened. “Is that the sound of anger I hear?”

  “Where are your skis?” she demanded, trying to change the subject.

  “Don’t change the subject,” Luke shot back.

  A broad, short man walked over to the railing of the deck and leaned out, the pompom on his bright red cap bobbing comically. Lindsay gasped as she recognized him.

  “What is this, hell week?” she muttered.

  Luke swiveled to see what she was looking at.

  “No, don’t,” she whispered furiously.

  “What? The guy in the red hat?” Luke looked back at her. “He seems harmless.”

  “That’s Otto Berenger,” Lindsay explained. “Not only do I have to put up with you but I get him for my sins too.”

  “I’m thrilled for you. You are going to explain this, aren’t you?”

  Otto Berenger turned, surveying the panorama and Lindsay stepped behind Luke a little. Luke stepped further away, revealing her again.

  “Nu-huh. Not ’til you satisfy my curiosity. C’mon, Lindsay. Give.”

  Lindsay opened her mouth to explain, then realized what sort of details she would have to give him and closed it again. “Never mind,” she said.

  He looked at her again through those blind, baffling sunglasses. “’Kay,” he said simply. He sat on the table closest to them, his long legs stretched out over the attached bench and folded his arms.

  She knew the reprieve was only temporary and cast about for a way to distract him a little. “Why are you still hanging around, anyway?” she asked him. “Weren’t you going somewhere?”

  “I’m waiting for Arquette. Same as you.”

  “Who says—” She stopped and shrugged. Why else would she be here? There was no point in denying it.

  She glanced over at Otto Berenger again and cast her mind back to the last time she had seen him, two years ago. She could feel her cheeks burning with just the memory of it.

  “You’re dying to tell me about it,” Luke said.

  She shook her head. “Never.”

  “You’re busting a gut to tell someone and I’m right here. You’re just about burning up on the spot. Look, you’ve melted all the snow around your feet.”

  Lindsay had actually started to drop her chin to look down at her feet before she realized Luke was teasing. She lifted her chin and stared at him with what she hoped was a steely, don’t-mess-with-me stare but he was already laughing silently. At her defiant look, his laughter doubled and his whole body began to shake.

  Lindsay looked away but her glance fell instead on the hated Otto. “Damn but I’d like to skewer that m
an…” she muttered and spun away.

  Which brought her back to face Luke again.

  He had himself back under control again. He dropped his chin and looked at her over the top of the sunglasses. The dark eyes impaled her. “Tell me,” he coaxed. “You know I won’t tell anyone else.”

  “No, I don’t know that.”

  “I give you my word. Is that enough?”

  “Why should I tell you? You’ll just use it to harass me for the next however-long-you’re-in-town.”

  “When you offer so many other juicy tidbits I can use? You underestimate your basic ammunition rating, Lynds.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Lindsay?”

  “Lynds. Makes me sound like a ten year old.”

  “Compared to me, you are,” Luke said and his voice was flat, sincere.

  “The worldly, wise and weary wanderer?” She shook her head.

  “One that has learned how to keep his mouth shut when he needs to. So tell me about Otto. Just looking at the guy is cranking you up.”

  She shook her head again.

  “Lindsay.”

  There was something in his voice that made her look at him.

  He hooked a finger over the frame of his glasses and slid them off. “Did you know that the longest I ever slept in the same bed as a kid was about five months? Hell, most of the beds I slept in were sofas. I got to see and hear a lot of family gossip sleeping in all those parlors. And every new parlor I moved onto, I got the third degree. They all wanted to know about each other’s lives. Some family…” He rolled his eyes. “I learned real early into the game that the only way to guarantee the next sofa was to keep my mouth shut while I was using the current one. They didn’t mind hearing all about cousin Ernie but they squealed like pigs if word got around about them.”

  “And the moral of the tale is you know how to keep your mouth shut.” She said it dryly.

  “No, the moral of the tale is, I know how to keep my mouth shut no matter how badly I’m busting to tell someone about it. No matter how juicy it is. Believe me, I know how to keep my mouth shut if I need to.”

  Despite the improbability of a childhood spent on the move like that, Lindsay felt a degree of reassurance. She sighed. “If I ever hear another word from you about this…”

  “Not another word. Promise.”

  She pulled at one of her aching, frozen ears awkwardly. “Otto over there is a gynecologist and a couple of years ago I was his patient.”

  “Well, so far, nothing terribly exciting.”

  “Except the guy is a chauvinist with absolutely no empathy for his patients at all!” she declared.

  “The plot thickens.” Despite his jovial tone, his eyes were serious, his expression one of deep interest.

  She could feel her cheek burning deeply. “I…ah…had an examination.”

  Luke’s brow lifted a little.

  “A pap smear…” She could feel her toes trying to curl up in embarrassment already. Could she actually speak the rest of it out loud? Thank goodness Luke’s expression didn’t show even a hint of amusement.

  “I’m acquainted with the process,” Luke said gravely. “Not on a personal level, of course.”

  Lindsay nodded, too awkward even to smile.

  “Well, he’s arrogant…has absolutely no idea what it’s like to lie in surgical stirrups and…open yourself up to probing hands and…instruments.” She took a breath.

  Luke tipped his head to one side, his eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

  She pushed it out all in one breath, “Well, he walked in, didn’t even say hello, just whipped a speculum out of the sterilizing liquid it was lying in and just…pushed it in.”

  “The liquid hurt you?” Luke asked.

  “The speculum was cold, dammit! It felt like he’d been keeping it in the deep freeze for a month.” She took another deep, calming breath and looked at her toes.

  “And that’s why you’re sending visual daggers in his direction?”

  Lindsay couldn’t swear to it but it sounded suspiciously like Luke was manfully holding back laughter. She didn’t dare look.

  “I’m sending him visual daggers because he sued me,” she told him.

  “Sued you? Damn, I wish I hadn’t promised not to discuss this. It’s too good. Why on earth would a gynecologist want to sue you? You’re the…um…injured party.”

  “Something happened to his eye,” Lindsay muttered.

  “What? Lynds, you’re going to have to stop mumbling.”

  “I said, something happened to his eye.”

  “What happened?”

  She forced herself to look him in the face. “Well, the speculum was cold, like I said. And it was a shock. I’m sure you could understand how shocking it might be.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So when it touched me…well, it was just instinctive.”

  She saw Luke’s jaw ripple, as if he was clenching it. Against laughter? “You didn’t…?” he began, then pursed his lips.

  She grimaced and nodded. “Yes. I hit him.”

  He looked away, then and rubbed his mouth furiously, the corners of his lips puckered suspiciously.

  Lindsay sighed. “It’s okay. You can laugh,” she told him.

  He shook his head, looking back at her. “No, it’s okay.” But his lips were twitching. “Did you settle out of court?”

  “I think his lawyer managed to convince him how petty the whole thing was. Especially when I filed a countersuit for assault.”

  He really did laugh then—throwing his head back for a great shout that had everyone turning to look.

  “Shhh!” she demanded.

  He shook his head but his laughter softened. He took a deep breath, recovering, while she stared out at the untouched snow on the west side of the chalet. She could see Otto’s red cap in the corner of her eye, which didn’t help her composure at all. He was still standing at the railing, oblivious to the fact that they were discussing him. Did he even know it was the woman he had been at legal loggerheads with only two years ago?

  “Still want to skewer him, Lindsay?”

  She looked back. “No.”

  “Honestly?”

  She smiled a little. “No.”

  “’Cos it seems to me that a cold shock in return for a cold shock is fair and fitting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Luke reached out and turned her by the shoulders so that she was facing the big double doors that led into the café. His hand came up by her shoulder, pointing to the roof.

  The snow had come in just perfectly this season. There had been a week of steady, soft falls, then the temperature had dropped and two to three feet of cold white crisp blanket lay over everything. The chalet roof was built in the Alpine style—sharply pitched to shed snow. But the shingles covering it were older and curling at the corners, enough to hold the snow in place…only the weight of the thick layer was pulling it down the roof.

  At the very edge of the eaves over the door was an overhang of snow—it bulged and drooped over the edge of the roof, a three-foot-thick, white mass that looked like it was ready to fall at any moment.

  “Just a nudge will do,” Luke whispered, right next to her ear.

  She jumped a little. Temptation gripped her and the tension made her heart sing. Did she dare?

  “How?” she asked, absolutely sure that Luke had already thought it through and knew exactly how to pull it off.

  He pointed to a set of skis and poles that had been laid to rest against the wall nearby them. “Borrow those for a moment. You know how people heft them as they walk—and how they lift them up to change shoulders?”

  She nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. She’d been watching people do it all morning as they got off the cable car.

  “I’ll have to get him to the door and keep him there for a second.”

  “Leave that to me,” Luke told her.

  Excitement gripped her. She had never done anything like
this in her life. And the thought of Otto getting his just desserts was such a sweet temptation…

  “Okay,” she agreed, a little breathlessly. “When? Now?”

  “Sure.” Luke stood up. “The other cable car is arriving. Good timing.”

  “You sound like you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

  He grinned and his eyes danced with merriment. “You could say that,” he agreed. He leaned close to her and in a secretive tone whispered, “I bet you’re nice and warm now.”

  Lindsay felt her jaw drop a little and her mouth open. And involuntarily, she felt herself smile. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

  He held up his hands. “No hands. Not even a finger.” He winked, then dropped the obscuring sunglasses back into place and ambled over toward Otto.

  Lindsay wasn’t sure what he intended to do, nor did she know exactly what he wanted her to do, either, beyond knocking down the snow at the appropriate moment. Did he just assume she would figure it out for herself?

  She grabbed the skis and poles leaning against the siding and hoisted them up onto her shoulder the way she’d seen other people doing it. They were surprisingly light but their length and the four separate pieces made them awkward to handle—especially as the skis themselves were slippery, glossy fiberglass. No wonder people swapped them from shoulder to shoulder all the time and took advantage of every stationary moment to rest them on the ground.

  Three or four paces from their intended target, Luke lifted his hand. “Otto,” he said and the rotund man turned toward him. Luke reached his side and began a conversation.

  Briefly, Lindsay envied him his ability to talk to anyone and everyone. Her mother had been like that.

  But the impending action pushed the thought away, for Luke was luring Otto from his post by the railing, a jovial arm on his shoulder. They were heading for the chalet.

  Lindsay measured the distance between them and the chalet and compared her own distance. Then, with her heart leaping about in her chest and excitement pushing at her and making her skittish and panicky, she walked as calmly as she could toward the café doors.