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Sometimes It Is Rocket Science

Page 7

by Thorpe, Kara


  “Nope. She seems very…” Georgiana shrugged, unsure of how much honesty their fragile friendship allowed. “Devoted, I guess.”

  “Clingy, you mean.” He sighed, raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Listen, Georgiana, I already explained to Dad, but I want to tell you, too.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s your life.” She set her glass on the edge of Dan’s stainless steel work desk and pressed the button to open the pocket door that separated the workshop and the garage. “Goodnight, Robert.”

  Chapter Eight:

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  The ancient speaker mounted to the outside of the small lab tucked in a forgotten corner of Collier Analytics distorted Yvonne’s strident tone. The sensor over the sliding glass door buzzed when she stepped over the threshold. Yvonne’s heels clicked sharply on the concrete, a good indication that she was less than pleased with her boss.

  “I’m not here.” Still hunched over the elevated worktable, Georgiana tilted her head towards the metal pole on her left side. In college, she’d designed an i.v. pole-like rig consisting of an insulated bladder with a tube and bite valve. It was the perfect coffee delivery system for someone without a free hand. “But if I did happen to be here, I’d ask if you got my message and brought a refill.”

  “I received the message, but I did not bring a refill. I saw the empty cups in your office. You have consumed far too much caffeine already. There is a decaf chai latte waiting for you on your desk where you should be reviewing the notes for the meeting with legal regarding Hayes.”

  “Decaf?” Georgiana wrinkled her nose, brushed a bit of mineral oil residue off the vaguely cat-like metal head she’d spent the morning working on. “Do you want me to fall asleep during the meeting?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t want you to…” Yvonne trailed off, eyes sliding to the delicate lavender satin, crystal-bedecked sandals Georgiana had tucked against a worktable leg. She pressed a hand to her lips. “Is your lab coat buttoned?”

  “Nope. It restricts movement and annoys me.”

  Yvonne quickly crossed the room to stand beside her boss. She stared pointedly at the soldering iron and die grinder on the table. “Please tell me those are there just for show and you didn’t actually use them.” She paled when she caught sight of the lilac lace and silk blouse under the crisp white lab coat. “Not while wearing that gorgeous blouse.”

  Georgiana’s lips curled in a teasing smile. She set down the metal head, leaned back against the table. “I think you love my clothes more than I do, Yvonne.”

  Yvonne sniffed indignantly. “I hate to see exquisite fashion ruined by your indifference. It’s a waste.”

  The familiarity of the squabble was soothing after a night spent with Tab’s nightmares and haunting images of Tammy in Robert’s arms. Georgiana had woken from a two-hour nap feeling like a steamroller had flattened her. Not even her makeup, guaranteed to perform miracles, had completely erased the shadows under her eyes or brightened her pallid face. She’d picked out the pretty, frilly shirt along with matching skirt and shoes in an attempt to brighten her mood. The jury was still out on whether or not her plan had worked.

  “Was there a reason you came all the way down here to see me?” Georgiana tapped bare, lavender-tipped toes against the polished floor. “Besides oh so cheerfully informing me that I’m going to have to find a new caffeine supplier, that is.”

  Yvonne’s smile, a blend of smug satisfaction and mystery, was one that made the executives at CA’s branches quiver in their loafers. It had absolutely no impact on Georgiana. “That reminds me, I need to inform Blake at the shop that you’re on a decaf-only diet for the remainder of the day.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Hmm. We’ll see.” Yvonne’s phone buzzed. She glanced down at the display. “Mr. Norwood is here to see you. Should I have security escort him back here?”

  Georgiana glanced around the room. There wasn’t anything confidential stashed on the shelves. The workroom had been hers since the day her father purchased the building. It was where she’d worked on her projects before taking over a room at Dan’s house.

  “Sure. Have Blake send over a repeat of yesterday morning’s order, but I want a bagel this time. Strawberry cream cheese. Throw in an extra slice of that sour cream coffee cake for Mr. Norwood. He seemed to enjoy it yesterday.”

  While Yvonne spoke with security and the coffee shop, Georgiana mentally prepared herself to face Robert. She’d hoped for more time to build up her defenses, to not feel so fragile. He hadn’t broken her heart, not even close, but the something building between them had fractured upon Tammy’s arrival. She preferred to blame it on the exhaustion and roller coaster of emotions she’d been on since Tab’s accident. They were only friends; why did it matter that he was engaged? A good friend would have been happy for him.

  She used the tiny remote on the edge of the desk to open the doors when she heard the squeak of shoes in the hallway. She momentarily considered stepping back into her sandals, but Yvonne had been correct about the amount of caffeine she’d ingested. She’d had to give up on the soldering iron after her fingers started trembling; she didn’t want to make a complete idiot of herself by tripping over her own feet. The chill of the floor on her skin kept her grounded.

  Robert, black suit a perfect complement to the thunder in his dark eyes, strode into the room and straight for Georgiana without sparing a glance at Yvonne. He stopped just short of trampling her bare toes and jabbed his index finger at her nose. She stared at the manicured but still masculine digit until her eyes crossed.

  “I’ll see what’s keeping Blake.” Yvonne wisely slipped out of the room. Neither Robert nor Georgiana noticed her absence.

  “You sent flowers to my office,” he seethed, face contorted in a scowl and tone biting, “congratulating me on my engagement.”

  Georgiana met Robert’s burning gaze. She schooled her face in to what she hoped was a calm, collected mask. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her fingers tingled. She licked her lips, tried to ignore the way his eyes followed her tongue’s circuit. What had been a good idea in the pre-dawn hours now seemed like a huge mistake.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t like the flowers. They’re not very manly, but I didn’t know where your fiancée was staying.” She shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I don’t know what an appropriate engagement announcement gift is, either. Yvonne’ll back me up. I am terrible at things like that.”

  “Flowers to my office! Where I have only been working for one day!” Robert’s finger shook. His eyes darkened with anger.

  “They know you run the company, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re a temp or anything. Your name is on the side of the building. All over the letterhead, too.”

  Robert inhaled swiftly, held his breath, and exhaled slowly. Restraining himself appeared to take genuine effort. “Do you have any idea how much gossip goes on in an office that size? All it took was one glimpse of the card for it to get around the entire building. People I’ve never met have stopped to shake my hand!”

  “It would stand to reason that the building would be full of people you’ve never met. You just started there.” She started to tell him about the time she’d actually calculated the time it took for rumors to spread in offices of various sizes, but the murderous gleam in his eyes made her think twice. “Oh! Oh! It was a secret wasn’t it? I just thought… you know… with her being at the hospital and all… I am so sorry.”

  “It is not a secret,” he bit out, teeth clenched so tight Georgiana feared they would crack.

  She was saved from having to respond by a rap on the insulated glass door. Blake O’Connor, the coffee shop manager, held up a cardboard drink carrier and small paper bag. Georgiana unlocked the door, padded over to him, and relieved him of his delivery. “Thank you, Blake.”

  “No problem, ma’am. Ms. Ruiz said to call her if you need anything else.” Abnormally skittish, Bl
ake backpedaled and raced back down the hallway.

  She dangled the sack in front of Robert’s nose. “Truce? I ordered you a slice of that sour cream coffee cake you devoured yesterday.”

  “I did not devour it.”

  “I was afraid you were going to start licking the crumbs off the plate.” Glad to have at least momentarily erased his glower, she handed him the sack and took a sip from the paper cup marked ‘GC’. It was instantly apparent why Blake had been so nervous.

  While Robert investigated the bag’s contents, she swapped their cups only to grimace when the coffee hit her taste buds. She switched cups again and unenthusiastically sipped her coffee. “I’m going to kill her,” she intoned gravely, “I’ll put up with just about anything, but I hate when she does this.”

  Robert took a long drink from his coffee cup to wash down a mouthful of moist cake. The drink tasted odd. He shoved the rest of the coffee cake in his mouth and popped the lid off the cup. He sniffed the hot, black coffee. It didn’t smell off, but it was hard to tell with the combination of industrial lubricants and Georgiana’s perfume filling his senses.

  “It’s decaf,” she said before he could ask what was wrong with his coffee. “She knew I’d switch cups with you so she made them both decaf.”

  He shuddered. What was the point of drinking coffee if not for the caffeine? “Why?”

  Her lips thinned, one small fist clenched. “Because she’s just as exasperating as my damn house.” Remembering NORA’s refusal to open the freezer door the previous evening, she rolled her eyes. “As both damn houses.”

  “Ah.” Robert nodded knowingly. “Assistant decided you’d exceeded your caffeine intake for the day?”

  “Yes. Yours does it to?”

  “Just the once.”

  “Really?” Georgiana leaned forward, eyes wide and earlier anxiety forgotten. If he had a secret solution for keeping Yvonne from messing with her coffee, he had to share. “What did you do?”

  He straightened slowly, set his cup on the table, and brushed a crumb of cake off the lapel of his suit jacket. “I’m sorry, Georgiana, that’s proprietary information.”

  Her shoulders slumped. She swallowed a mouthful of no-octane coffee. “You know, if I’m going to commit one murder, there’s no incentive not to commit two.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to sway Ms. Ruiz back to your side.”

  “Yeah.” Georgiana chewed the inside of her cheek, tried to remember exactly what Yvonne had been squeeing over the previous week. She’d have to pull CA’s server logs, but she was fairly certain it was a pair of black lace Jimmy Choos. “Fashion is Yvonne’s weakness.”

  Robert stuck his hand in the paper sack and retrieved a second slice of coffee cake. “You’re lucky, then. Cedric has no weaknesses. He’s a veritable wall.” He popped a corner of the cake in his mouth.

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  His eyes narrowed suddenly, the fingers holding the coffee cake gestured severely and sprayed crumbs all over her clean floor. “Don’t even think about poaching.”

  Georgiana slid a hand behind her back and crossed two fingers. She plastered on the ‘can’t-you-see-my-halo’ look that had always worked so well on her beloved father. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Wanting to change the subject before he could somehow twist things back around to his fiancée and the flowers, she cradled the metal head in her hands. “What do you think?”

  Robert frowned. He scanned the small, silver shape. He could make out a pair of pointy ears on top of the main oval. There was a set of misshapen eyes, a triangle of a nose, and half a mouth. “Is it a rat?”

  Georgiana sighed. She had been working off her sketches, but her projects tended to turn out better when she worked freehand. “It’s supposed to be a cat.”

  He cocked the head so that it sat upright. He could see markings for whiskers and the rest of the mouth. “I can see it now. Why the sudden interest in biomorphic robotics?”

  “I think Tab needs a pet. A cat would be good. He’s always liked cats.”

  A small smile lifted his frown. Same old Georgiana. He covered her hands, squeezed her fingers lightly. “Most people just adopt from a shelter, Georgiana.”

  Color flooded her cheeks. She was an idiot. Of course most people adopted a real kitten. What kind of person was she that when she decided brother could use a companion, she automatically went to her workshop? He’d needed a keeper so she’d worked with Dan to create ERIC. Little wonder Tab was still a recluse if that was the kind of help he was getting. Machines, no matter how advanced, were no substitute for hugs or soft fur and purrs.

  Her mother had been a firm believer in balance. Corrine Collier had set aside entire weekends for classic movie marathons and museum tours so that Georgiana would have a life outside of science and school. Even before the accident, Georgiana hadn’t done any of that for her brother. Her throat tightened. Not only did she disappoint her father on a daily basis by failing to keep up his legacy, but she’d let down her mother as well.

  She untangled her fingers from his and returned the head to the table. Eyes downcast, she shrugged out of her lab coat and snatched up the bag with her bagel. She had no need for the decaf coffee. “I have a meeting, and I promised Yvonne I would be on time. I’ll have someone walk you out, if you’d like. The hallways are all the same shade of white and even I get lost at times.”

  “Georgiana…” Robert rested a hand on her shoulder. The heat of his skin burned through the thin layers of her blouse. “Is there something wrong with Tab?”

  “No.” She swallowed, blinked back tears. “There’s nothing wrong. Let’s go.”

  For the second time in twenty-four hours, Georgiana Collier walked away from Robert Norwood.

  Chapter Nine:

  “Incoming call from Robert Norwood,” ERIC said, interrupting the second verse of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Come Dance with Me.’

  “Zin i’ ta boysmay.” Georgiana extracted a pearl embellished bobby pin from between her clamped teeth and secured a stubborn tendril of hair to the side of her head. The creamy, light ivory color contrasted strikingly with her dark hair.

  “You have programmed me with the ability to translate over two dozen languages, Georgiana, but I do not recognize the one you are currently speaking.”

  “Sma’ ess c’puter.” The light over her head flickered. She spit the remaining bobby pins into her palm. It figured ERIC would understand that sentiment. “Send it to voicemail.”

  “This is Mr. Norwood’s third attempt to make telephone contact. Judging by the tenor of his previous messages, I advise answering this call.”

  Her freshly glossed lips curved downwards. She’d been in the bathroom for thirty minutes listening to a Frank Sinatra compilation disc and getting ready for a dinner engagement. Her cell phone had been synced with ERIC since she’d arrived home, and he’d made no mention of an incoming call.

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” She hoped it there wasn’t a major coding flaw in his system. Finding and fixing any problems would require help from either Tab or Robert. She was afraid any attempt she made to correct the issue would lead to an unmitigated catastrophe.

  “The first call came while you were in the shower. The second call came when you were applying mascara. I believed it prudent to avoid a second eye-related mishap this week.”

  The potential flaw suddenly wasn’t an issue. She was going to rip ERIC’s coding apart line by line. Then she was going to kick her brother’s ass. Tab had been the one to give ERIC his personality. “Patch him through, please.” While waiting for the telltale click, she used another bobby pin to smooth back the hair on the other side of her face. “Hello, Robert.”

  “You’ve run away from me twice, and now you’re hiding from me,” Robert accused, his voice like a razor blade wrapped in silk. “Keep this up, Georgiana, and you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

  “I think your ego can handle it.” A spritz of hairspray a
cross her curled bangs later, she was finished. She’d kept the makeup to a minimum and concentrated on drawing attention to her eyes while covering the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Prask was not her choice for a dinner partner, but that was no excuse to look like a slob. “You’re not calling about the meeting with Doctor Flores, are you? I told Dan I wasn’t legally family, and you could handle it yourself.”

  “But I thought you’d be here with me.”

  She grimaced at the petulance dripping off his words. No self-respecting man over the age of seventeen should ever whine. ERIC recorded all phone conversations patched through his system. She wondered how much Robert would pay to destroy proof of his juvenile behavior.

  “I have plans. You’re a big boy. I’m sure if you ask nicely, Doctor Flores will use small words.”

  There was a pause. When he spoke, the peevishness had been replaced by a dangerously enticing tone. “I hear an echo. You’re in the bathroom, aren’t you? You’re getting ready to go out somewhere. A date? Do you have a date, Georgiana?”

  “I have plans to eat with someone who is not Tab, Yvonne, Dan, or anyone from the office,” she said, unwilling to divulge the name of her companion. While she merely disliked Prask, Robert had no qualms letting the world know how much he loathed the unscrupulous businessman. She didn’t want a picture of Robert punching Prask with her standing in the background to wind up in the newspaper or on the Internet.

  “Who is he?” Robert chuckled dryly. “Or she,” he amended.

  “He is none of your concern. Look, I’ll meet you for breakfast in the morning. You can tell me all about what Doctor Flores said, and we’ll make a plan for how deal with Dan once he’s home.” She could have pretended jealousy motivated his inquiry, but she was far too practical for that. Robert only cared about her plans because they interfered with his. Everyone in New York may have bowed and scraped to him, but Houston didn’t revolve around Robert Norwood.

 

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