by Carol Caiton
He ended the call and slid the phone into his pants pocket. "Simon will be waiting for you at the checkpoint. Ready?"
Sighing, she nodded. Apparently Simon hadn't told Ethan he was no longer interested in her. This meeting was going to be awkward for them both, probably more so for him than for her. If she showed him his rejection hadn't affected her one way or the other, maybe they could get through it quickly.
"Let's go then," Ethan said. He held out a key. "This opens the front door."
She slipped it into the pocket of her jeans and followed him to the kitchen, then through a utility door and into the garage. Three of the four available bays were occupied. A big black Hummer sat parked at the far end, the middle car she couldn't identify by sight, and the luxurious Audi she'd driven the night before was right where she'd parked it when the door glided open, courtesy of a transponder.
"I'll give you a remote for the garage tonight," he said. Then he gestured toward the keypad on the utility door. "Did I give you the combination to get into the house?"
She lifted her eyes to his. "You made me repeat it three times before you keyed it in yourself."
He gave her a strange look, then opened the Audi's passenger door for her.
She waited while he walked around to the other side, but didn't remember until it was too late that she hadn't moved the driver's seat back into position for someone with much longer legs than her own.
"Goddamn it!"
He grabbed his head with one hand and the roof of the car with the other. "Goddamn sonofabitch . . . ."
Nina sprang from the car, worried when she saw the color had drained from his face.
"Get back inside," he growled.
Ignoring him, she waited until she was sure he didn't need help, then settled back into the passenger seat.
He stood unmoving for some time until finally, he reached in, slid the seat all the way back, and slowly angled inside.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
He didn't respond.
As soon as he started the engine, the garage door opened. Twenty minutes later, he turned the car toward RUSH's wrought-iron gates on Treeline Drive.
Nina stared at the line of protesters along the outer wall. "The crowd keeps growing, she commented. "There aren't usually so many people at this entrance."
"It'll calm down again when RUSH drops out of the headlines." He glanced over at her. "Have they given you any trouble?"
"No. Sometimes they shout at me and that can be nerve-wracking. But that's all."
"If anyone touches your car, let me know. And Mason."
"I will."
When he parked the Audi in his private slot she waited, as she'd been taught in class, for him to walk around and open the door for her. Together they started through the chilly parking garage toward the checkpoint.
"If you need help moving out, tell your residence attendant. She'll get the boxes you need and anything else you ask for. Do you have a pen and paper in there?" He indicated her purse.
"Yes."
"Get it out and I'll give you my cell number."
He stopped walking and waited while she did as directed. He gave her the code to reset the front door burglar alarm as well. When she was finished writing, he said, "I'm going to reprogram your chip. Your membership will still be active, but you won't have access to the R-link complex after today."
He started to turn away, so she reached out a hand to stop him. "Ethan?"
He paused.
"Membership fees are going to be out of my range. Even E-level 1. So you'll probably want to go ahead and deactivate everything."
He frowned at her. "When's the last time you checked your mail?"
"I . . . not for a while. Only a couple of people know where I live."
"Check your mailbox. The board voted unanimously to give you a lifetime complimentary membership—both you and the woman who described Serena's killer—for as long as you pass all the markers. You have unlimited access to all the venues, all the classes . . . everything you have as an R-link except now you'll have to use the Moon Orchid Spa instead of the R-link salon. Other than that, it's all-inclusive."
Stunned, she could only stare at him.
"You'll still have to pay for your meals if you decide to eat here, and your R-link discount at the mall will be cut as of today. But any debt you owe has been absorbed by the corporation. We voted on it the day your drawing struck pay dirt."
It was too much to take in. She owed them nothing? Nothing at all?
"I . . ." she started, but she was too overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say."
"Well check your mail for the details because medical isn't included either. That was part of your R-link package so you'll have to pay full price for birth control shots. You won't be allowed past the checkpoint without them . . . though that might be different for a blue link. Mason will know."
She opened her mouth but could only repeat herself. "I don't know what to say."
"Then exercise some of that newfound silence while we walk. Come on." He settled a hand at her waist and started her toward the checkpoint again.
The relief was too much. The strain had been oppressive. Tears sprang to her eyes and she felt a little lightheaded. "Ethan, thank you. Thank you for everything."
He wouldn't look at her. Maybe because her voice trembled and he thought she was crying. But he gave a clipped nod. "You're welcome."
* * *
Simon stood just inside the checkpoint, much as he had the first day Nina arrived at RUSH, and watched as she walked with Ethan through the parking garage. He couldn't make out her features, couldn't see the discoloration beneath her eye where Michael's elbow had struck. Instead, what he saw was the whole woman, small and feminine, hair full and thick around her shoulders, hips swaying in that provocative manner inherent to the female of the species.
He hadn't seen her since the morning she barged through the doors at Admin, demanding to see Michael—Michael of all people—like a protective lioness. And damned if she hadn't kept him out of jail. Orlando's finest had been eager to slap a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and tack a string of charges to his name. But Nina had provided an air-tight alibi that covered the time of the accident. One by one she was gathering Malcolm, Elliott, Mason, even Michael now, into an expanding circle of friendship. If, in the future, she held a permanent place in his life, she'd fit in seamlessly with his friends.
The problem was, he hadn't yet come to terms with that future. He'd thought he had when he took a chance and accepted her icon, but he hadn't. How could he have imagined what awaited him without knowing the reality of her? How could he have prepared for something he hadn't known to expect? And once he'd met her in the flesh, the explosion of that reality had detonated over and over again. From his first confusing glimpse of her lopsided ponytail to the throbbing hard-on whenever she defied him, to those flashing eyes and breasts heaving with agitation, then his pride in her ability to provide something RUSH very desperately needed, just before the jealousy and division of loyalties that caught him unawares. Her presence alone kindled a chain of emotions and reactions with which he had no experience. Too often he was caught up in a fight against himself for balance and control, for restraint and sound, common sense. She energized him and lured him with her blushing naiveté, then drove him to moments of anger that stole his breath and left him in the dust, panting, yet absurdly wanting more. And while that might intrigue him on an analytical plane, he wasn't eager to subject himself to more of it.
When she'd stormed into the admin lobby and he saw her face, every instinct he possessed urged him to go to her. The internal battle he'd fought had stolen his equilibrium and left him with an aching jaw as he struggled to remain standing where he was. Reminding himself that his emotions had become as unpredictable as hers, that his values shifted when he was with her, that he lost sight of himself in his pursuit of her—that had been his ammunition. And he'd won the battle, celebrated the fact that logic and reasoning ha
d overruled instinct and the urge that pressed on him to resume the chase.
He shouldn't be standing here now, but he wasn't prepared to give her up. He wanted more time to consider the reality of a blue-link future, no matter that time had been his enemy from the start. He'd been prodded into action before he was inclined to be prodded. He'd been distracted, checking his account throughout the day to see if she'd accepted or declined their link. And every night he lay awake, facing an indefinite stretch of time without a woman, wondering how long he'd have to wait before he had her beneath him.
So it didn't help ease his tension when he saw her place a hand on Ethan's arm, drawing him to a stop. It was an innocent gesture in itself and she promptly removed it. But twenty-four hours ago she would have spoken Ethan's name if she'd wanted his attention. She wouldn't have touched him. And that meant a new familiarity had developed between them overnight. He shouldn't be concerned since Ethan presently wanted nothing to do with women, not after what had happened with his green link. It would probably be a few weeks before he even accepted an amber again. So instead of this prickling irritation and a rising sense of possessiveness, he should be thanking Ethan for preventing Nina from disappearing.
The checkpoint doors slid open to admit them and Simon stepped forward. Ethan met his eyes with a frank, direct stare that hid nothing and Simon gave himself a mental shake. If he wasn't careful, he'd jeopardize another friendship that meant more to him than this young woman did. He gave a brief, meaningful nod and received one in return. Then Ethan moved on, leaving Nina behind . . . a coolly aloof Nina who made it clear she had nothing to say to him.
Eyes fixed on the opposite wall, she stared at a framed aerial view of RUSH, ignoring him. A group of women swept through the doors, their uniforms identifying them as employees, and he waited for them to pass before closing the distance to stand behind the young woman who turned him inside out whenever she was near.
"Walk with me," he said. He wasn't going to have this conversation while standing in the parking garage entrance.
She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his eyes for a short second, then promptly turned away and walked through the checkpoint and out into the chilly morning air.
She was dressed in clothes that would have told him right away she'd been off property. The jeans that hugged her hips fit well, but they hadn't come from Wardrobe. The top beneath her snug-fitting sweater nearly hid her cleavage. But not quite. And, he realized, neither one would offer much warmth.
"Are you cold?"
"No. I'm fine."
He didn't believe her, but he didn't argue the matter. Her posture, her refusal to meet his eyes or speak unnecessarily told him he was back at square one. It was his own doing, he knew. He'd treated her as he would an amber link—no phone calls, no further gifts, no need for communication at all unless it was to arrange for an encounter. He'd neglected her after one heated kiss and with no explanation.
He didn't regret stepping back, but he should have done it with more finesse. Maintaining a safe distance didn't necessitate completely ignoring her. He should have sent flowers every few days, interspersed with a message asking for her patience while he dealt with the backlog at work . . . small things that would have assured her of his continued interest.
The backlog at work wasn't a fabrication. Aside from the fact that a variety of new stat reports had been incorporated into his routine, the numbers since Serena Mandek's murder pointed toward new problems that required attention. Still . . . .
He walked with her in silence, restructuring his strategy again. Whether or not he was ready for this, for her, there was too much at stake to give up.
The walkway wasn't crowded but it was early. A random stream of employees filed past, some with cups of coffee in hand, others carrying a Fruits & Veggies smoothie. Nearly all of them offered a greeting, and just as many glanced between him and Nina and back again. It was the tip of the grapevine. This wasn't the first time he'd been seen with her. Not even the second or third. When word of the blue between them became common knowledge, neither of them would be able to stroll the grounds without gossip dogging their footsteps.
He gestured toward the first intersecting path in an effort to avoid curious eyes and guided her toward the circular, hedged-in cul-de-sac at the farthest end of the turnoff. He was careful not to touch her this time. She was with him only because he and Ethan hadn't given her a choice.
She broke away at the entrance of the cul-de-sac, walking around the concrete bench at its center to stand at the far side of the circle . . . putting distance between them he surmised. He countered that in turn by blocking the exit. She could explore all she wanted, but she wasn't going to escape.
Still, her little promenade gave him a clear view of the fading bruise on her cheek. Michael's elbow had caused more damage than he'd realized if evidence of it was still this pronounced. It caused him to question the wisdom of his actions and he wondered if he'd made a mistake. For the first time, he wished he had previous relationship experience to use as a standard for calculating his decisions.
"When were you planning to leave?" he asked. The diameter of the cul-de-sac was no more than twelve feet across, so he didn't have to raise his voice.
"I was going to leave as soon as I found a place to live."
Slow. He needed to take this slowly. "Were you going to tell me?"
She turned to face him and the confusion in her expression told him it hadn't occurred to her that he might want to know. Christ.
"No," she answered. "There was no reason to."
"There's a blue icon out there connecting us."
She shook her head. "Why are you reminding me of that? You walked away."
"I didn't walk away."
"You did."
He bit back the words he wanted to say, words he knew he should say. Would she let him back in without revealing more of himself than was comfortable? "There were aspects of our relationship I wasn't prepared for," he told her.
"Look, you don't have to explain. I know this is awkward, so why don't we just agree things didn't work out and—"
"I stepped back because I react to you in ways I've never reacted to anyone else."
He watched for her reaction, saw her pause and consider, then realized she might think he meant only those reactions of temper.
"I want us to keep working at this."
Immediately she shook her head. "No. I don't want that."
"You're going to turn your back on it? You're saying it's all right for you to withdraw when things get difficult, but it isn't all right for me?"
"Simon, I'm not withdrawing. I'm running in the opposite direction, just as I did from the start."
"And I gave chase. Every time. I want this, Nina."
"You said that before."
"And I'm saying it again."
"No. You made me start to—" Color stole into her cheeks and she turned away.
He watched her. "I made you start to what?"
But her words told him a great deal. In fact, it changed the playing field. He knew exactly where he stood now and where he stood wasn't as far away as she wanted him to believe.
Vacating his post at the exit, he started slowly around the circular bench, careful, nonthreatening. When he reached her side, he slid a gentle hand beneath her elbow and turned her to face him.
"This is too rare for either of us to walk away from. We'll take it slow, give ourselves time." He brushed a careful finger over the bruise on her face. "I'm as new to this as you are and I'm sorry I held back. I was wrong."
Her eyes drifted closed.
Yes. He'd guessed correctly.
Sifting his hand into her hair, he drew her close, brought her head to rest against his chest. She was short without high heels.
He dipped down, breathing in the fragrance he now associated with her, and said, "I'd like you to move your things to my house instead of Ethan's."
She stopped breathing. He felt the sudden stillness of her brea
sts against his chest. A moment later she pulled away and stepped back.
"You call that taking it slow?"
"I call it watching out for our best interests. Living at Ethan's house isn't a good move."
"Why? What's wrong with Ethan?"
"Nothing's wrong with him."
"Does he get drunk every night?" she pressed.
"No. You're on the wrong track."
Understanding entered her eyes. "I hardly know him."
"But you will.
"Not the way you're thinking. I won't even be there most of the time. I'll be at work all day, and I'm planning to reschedule all my classes so I can spend my evenings here."
"It's not a good idea for you to live in Ethan's house. And if you're going to be that busy, we'll need whatever free time you do have to spend with one another."
Again she shook her head. "Simon, we argue every time we're together. What happens if you decide it's not working and you want me to move out?"
"That won't happen."
"You don't know that. More importantly, I don't know that. You're unpredictable."
"I'm what?"
"You walk in and out of my life without notice. Things could get awkward and uncomfortable. If I stay at Ethan's house, I won't have to worry about that."
"You wouldn't, but I would."
She wrinkled her nose in exasperation. "This conversation shouldn't even be happening. If Ethan hadn't phoned you this morning, you'd be in your office right now and we wouldn't be talking."
He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but she wasn't. So he told himself there were six guest rooms in Ethan's house, that the master suite was located in its own private wing. Had she gone back to her parents' house, her family would have been a problem. He doubted her father would welcome one of RUSH's owners on his doorstep, especially since Simon suspected it was her father who had struck her and that he'd done so because of RUSH. And if she'd gone elsewhere, he would have found her eventually, but not until FICA had been withdrawn from her paycheck. So he told himself to be grateful Ethan had had the presence of mind while roaring drunk to detain her. At least she'd be accessible.