Sometimes It Is Rocket Science

by Thorpe, Kara

  “Breakfast? Do you think it’s wise to make plans for breakfast before the date’s even started?”

  Her fingernails cut crescents into her palms. She wished he was in the room so she could slap the undoubtedly lecherous smirk off his far-too-attractive-for-anyone’s-good face. “I’m not one of your girls, Robert. A nice meal and a couple of drinks don’t guarantee I’m going to do any dancing afterwards.”

  He sighed, swore softly. “Georgiana, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “I know. I really need to go, though. I’ll call you in the morning.” She instructed ERIC to end the call before Robert could finish his apology. Talking to Robert, especially when wearing nothing but a fluffy blue robe, put her off-kilter, and she needed to be at her best for her dinner with Prask.

  Ten minutes later, with one arm wrapped around her chest and the other curled around her back to hold her dress up, Georgiana hurried into her brother’s bedroom. The strapless sapphire, tiered organza cocktail dress was one of her favorites, but she hadn’t mastered the art of putting it on without assistance.

  “Zip, please?”

  Tab dropped the video game controller and scooted to the end of the bed. Nimble, cold fingers tugged the small zipper into place. His fair eyebrows knit together when she twirled away from him so that the a-line skirt flared around her knees. “Isn’t that a little fancy for dinner with Prask?”

  “Nope.” Georgiana returned to her bedroom with Tab trailing behind her glaring at the hem of her dress. “Prask’s like a bloodhound when it comes to weakness. If I show up looking like I’m unprepared or easily ruffled, he’ll eat me alive. Think of this as my suit of armor.”

  Tab dropped onto the armless office chair beside Georgiana’s roll-top desk and eyed the miniscule silver clutch on the corner of her unmade bed. “Not much room for a sword in there.”

  “I’ve got Mace, does that count?” She grinned at him in the mirror over her antique vanity. He gagged at her pun. “Plus, it’s so stuffed I can use it as a flail if necessary.”

  She didn’t miss the flash of grief across his face when she extracted a necklace from her jewelry armoire. Their father had given her the necklace of pearls and round, brilliant diamonds set in platinum her last birthday before his death. When cleaning out their father’s dresser, Tab had found the matching earrings and given them to her for Christmas in Jerome Collier’s place.

  She slipped into a pair of strappy, metallic silver sandals. Tab stood and handed her the clutch. “Thanks, little brother.”

  He looped an arm around her slim waist for a quick hug. “You look great, Gigi.” He pressed dry lips to the apple of her cheek. “If Prask does anything to make you uncomfortable, pepper spray his ass.”

  She linked her hands behind his neck, rested her forehead against his. His long eyelashes, similar to the ones she’d also inherited from their mother, tickled her cheeks. “If you don’t want me to go, Tab, I won’t. I’ll change back into my sweats and spend the night kicking your ass in Robo-Assassins IV.”

  Laughter burst out of his lips. It smelled faintly of sour cream and onion chips. “No. Go. Eat overpriced food and drink good wine. Bring back dessert.”

  She nodded, pleased he hadn’t insisted that she stay. Prask was a sleaze, but she needed a night away from the sorrow seeping out of every corner of the townhouse. Guilt over the selfish thought rapidly followed the rush of relief.

  “Chocolate or cheesecake?”

  “You decide, but I wouldn’t say no to a little of both.” He ducked out from her embrace. “ERIC and I will wait up for you. Text me if you need an excuse to leave. If you do spray Prask, make sure you record it with your phone. I won’t put it up anywhere, but it’d make Dan’s day.”

  “Oh,” she started, heading for the stairs, “I can think of a lot of people who would pay to see that footage.”

  Robert slouched in the visitor’s chair beside his father’s empty hospital bed. Dan had insisted on going for a walk down to the cafeteria by himself. He claimed Robert hovered worse than the nurses; Robert suspected Dan wanted the chance to flirt with a nurse or two on his way to the cafeteria. Robert’s assistant Cedric was getting acquainted with the staff at Norwood Systems’ Houston office while his driver/bodyguard Allan was getting acquainted with Dan’s personal fleet.

  He was bored. Disappointed. He’d expected Georgiana to be waiting for him at the hospital. He’d pictured listening to Doctor Flores with her at his side and then whisking her away to dinner under the premise of hashing out an arrangement for Dan. He couldn’t believe she was blowing off the meeting with the doctor for a date. A date! Who did she think she was… him?

  There had been no mention of a boyfriend. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Georgiana was a striking, intelligent, rich woman. She could tell a joke or participate in a serious conversation about bioengineering. She dressed to flatter her slim frame and walked the line between feminine and comfortable; he couldn’t forget how luscious those lavender sandals had made her legs look.

  He slid lower in the chair. Of course she had a date. The city wasn’t full of blind, stupid men. A fierce pang of something he was decidedly not calling jealousy sliced through him. Brow furrowed, he opened the file Cedric had sent him the previous evening. Cedric had outdone himself pulling up every news item available on Georgiana and assembling them in chronological order. Robert flicked through the photos searching for some indication of what had happened to Georgiana and if there was any competition.

  The first twenty pictures were familiar. They featured the Georgiana he remembered: dressed to kill and smiling warmly. The dozen pictures taken after the previous October surprised him. With each photo, she grew thinner, paler. The shadows under her eyes darkened. In the black-and-white pictures, she bore an eerie resemblance to a ghost.

  He checked for news stories written about her during that time period, but there was only dry information on Collier Analytics. Whatever had transformed her from a vibrant woman into a zombie wasn’t business related. It was more than that. Worse, he feared, than that.

  Was it the mysterious boyfriend? Was that why Dan didn’t know about him? Why she’d avoided answering his question earlier? His phone case creaked when his fist tightened suddenly. If someone was hurting her, even just a little, he was going to make them regret it.

  Robert clicked out of the file when the door opened. Flushed but looking healthier than he had in days, Dan stumbled into the room and collapsed onto the bed. Dan dabbed at the sweat on his forehead with the edge of the sheet.

  “I thought Doctor Flores warned you about overdoing it, Dad.”

  ”Pshaw.” Dan waved his hand limply. “Don’t take everything that ol’ worrywart says seriously. He’s determined to suck all the fun out of life. Just look at what they’ve been feeding me here. Not a speck of red meat to be seen.”

  “I don’t believe Doctor Flores has ever had a heart attack,” Robert observed. The doctor was two years older than Dan, but looked like he was twenty years younger.

  Dan harrumphed. He eyed his son critically. “What’s got you looking like someone set the server room on fire.”

  Both Norwood men immediately rapped their knuckles on the wooden tabletop attached to the wall. Robert grumbled under his breath. If a server room at any NS location caught fire, he was blaming his father.

  “Georgiana’s not coming.” Robert locked his phone and slid it in his pocket. He would have to do a bit of research on his own. Perhaps he could use her assistant’s fondness for fashion to his advantage. Georgiana had said it was Ms. Ruiz’s weakness.

  “Of course not. She has a dinner appointment at seven.”

  Robert’s eyebrows shot up. “You knew about it?”

  “Yes. I told her it wasn’t a problem. I don’t need her to put her life on hold just because my ticker decided to go on the fritz.”

  “Who is the lucky guy? I can’t imagine it’s anyone who works for her. Is it an NS employee? We were disconnected be
fore she could answer my question.”

  Dan grinned mischievously at his scowling son. “She blew you off, didn’t she?” He shook his head. “I take it then you haven’t explained about Tammy yet.”

  “She hasn’t given me a chance. She’s surprisingly slippery.” Robert straightened, leaned forward on his elbows. He relished the thought of cornering Ms. Georgiana Collier. He could take his time explaining, watch those expressive eyes widen, and breathe in her beguiling scent. “It’s only a matter of time, though. She can’t hide forever.”

  Doctor Juan Flores appeared in the doorway. He motioned for Robert to follow him in to the hallway. After exchanging a confused look with his father, Robert joined the doctor and closed the door quietly.

  “I have been going over the results of an expanded panel of tests performed on the blood taken right after your father’s admission. I had the work done because the Dan’s cardiac enzymes are not consistent with those that normally follow a natural heart attack. Rather than involving only one or two chambers, this affected his entire heart. The test results are puzzling, at best.” Doctor Flores ran a hand through gray-streaked black hair. “Disturbing, at worst.”

  Robert’s heart leaped to his throat. Ice coated his stomach and slithered down his spine. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.” He fixed Doctor Flores with the glare that had helped him earn his reputation in the boardroom. Most people crumbled under the weight of that glare. The doctor was no exception.

  “There is an increased concentration of nicotine. Not enough to be fatal, but more than you would find in half a pack cigarettes, and definitely more than there should be for an occasional cigar smoker. There is also an unusually elevated level of caffeine. Those aren’t the disturbing parts, though.” Doctor Flores glanced at the report in his hands. “His blood also contains glyceryl trinitrate.”

  “Nitroglycerin?” Robert stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t you give him that for the heart attack?”

  “This is your father’s first myocardial infarction. He has never been prescribed nitroglycerin. I double-checked the paramedics’ trip sheet and made a follow-up phone call. They did not give him any nitroglycerin. The caffeine, nicotine, and nitro together are a dangerous combination, but it gets worse.” The doctor’s hands fell to his sides. He sucked in a bracing breath and met Robert’s icy eyes. “There is gamma-hydroxybutyrate in his blood.”

  The air left Robert’s lungs with a loud whoosh. He blinked rapidly, tugged on his earlobe. “The date rape drug? Someone roofied my father?” Fiery, violent anger flooded his system and drowned the fear. Someone had poisoned his father. Someone had almost killed his father.

  “Do you know what your father was doing before the heart attack? He mentioned a lunch meeting, but I need specifics so we can pinpoint when he ingested the drugs and hopefully clarify the situation.”

  “You think he was drugged?” Robert demanded roughly. “Don’t you mean poisoned?”

  “Yes. I wanted to speak to you before I contacted the police.”

  “You’re damned right I’m going to find out where he was.” Robert flung open the door and marched to his father’s side. He snatched the television remote from Dan’s hands, shut off the news program, and tossed the remote onto the bed. “Where were you before the heart attack, Dad? Who were you with?”

  “I had a lunch meeting with Walt Prask.” Dan frowned. He was unused to being on the receiving end of his son’s bastard businessman persona. “We went to Elmridge, had steaks, and then had one of his cigars at the bar. We talked about the upcoming Westalm project.”

  “And you didn’t stop anywhere on the way home? Didn’t see anyone else?”

  “No. I was supposed to be at the office for a meeting, but I’d forgotten a folder, so I ran back to the house. That’s where I had the heart attack.” Dan was about to ask why he was being subjected to an interrogation, when another thought hit. His nose wrinkled. “I hope Prask doesn’t take Georgie to Elmridge. She hates that place.”

  Robert spine stiffened so suddenly he feared it would snap. His eyes narrowed, the blood in his veins froze. “Georgiana is having dinner with Prask?”

  “Yes. She didn’t want to, but she’s having problems with her board. You know what that’s like, don’t you?” Dan teased, hoping to lighten the oppressive air in the room.

  “Can NORA track Georgiana’s cell phone?” Robert was already pulling his phone out of his pocket. He mentally calculated how long it would take Allan to get from the house to the hospital and whether it would be quicker to call a cab.

  “Yes. What’s going on, Robert?”

  Robert sent a quick text to his chauffer before turning his attention back to his father. He didn’t want to worry the older man, but he couldn’t lie to him, either. He needed Dan to be alert. “You were drugged, Dad. Nicotine, caffeine, nitroglycerin, and GHB. Someone wanted it to look like you died of a heart attack.”

  “You think it was Prask.”

  “He was the last person you were with; it’s the only logical explanation.” Robert dialed the number for his father’s house, prayed NORA complied with his request. “And now Georgiana’s having dinner with him.”

  Chapter Ten:

  Her dinner companion’s voice relegated to background noise, Georgiana leaned closer to the small, round crystal oil lamp. There was no discernible odor. Chewing the gloss off her bottom lip, she sat back in her chair. Olive oil, presumably. It was early enough in the evening that the lamp had been refilled before the dinner rush. Calculating the approximate volume of the lamp only took a few seconds. Estimating burn time for the entire container took an additional minute.

  “More wine, Georgiana?”

  Startled out of her equation, Georgiana glanced at her half-full wine glass and shook her head. She sipped the dark red Argentine Malbec, surprised to find it softer and plusher than she’d anticipated. It was considerably less dry than Prask’s conversation.

  “That is a lovely dress,” Prask commented, lips quirking over the rim of his glass.

  She shifted uncomfortably under his sharp stare and fought the urge to tug on the dress’s neckline. Two of Prask’s ex-wives had graduated from high school the same year as Georgiana and Prask’s daughter Claire. Claire was the only childhood friend, aside from Robert, Georgiana kept in regular contact with. She knew how angry Prask’s last three marriages had made his daughter.

  “Thank you, but credit should go to Claire. It is one of her designs.”

  “Claire? My Claire?”

  Georgiana took another sip of wine to hide a smile. The slight flare of panic in his eyes was gratifying. A man like Prask didn’t like to be reminded of his age. Her new goal was to do everything she could to highlight their age difference. “Yes, your Claire. We went to school together, remember? She sends samples and gifts every now and then.”

  Prask drained his wine glass. He licked his lips. His keen gaze turned cool, calculating. “How is your brother? Is he enjoying school?” He set his glass on the table. “I imagine he’s racking up the miles on that Mercedes coming home every weekend.”

  Slivers of ice trickled down Georgiana’s spine. She forced herself to keep her head high. Prask was a creep, but he was also an expert at ferreting out and exploiting the slightest weakness. “Yeah,” she said, voice high and thin, “Tab’s fine.”

  “Who is his roommate? Several of my associates have sons at the school and…’

  “He’s in a single room.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Before the accident, Tab had been assigned to one of the single suites in the school’s newest dormitory building. She needed to distract him, though, before the conversation about her brother could continue any further. “I heard a rumor that you were quite the wild one at school. There was this one story involving a group of boys, grape Kool-Aid, and the fountain, but I can’t remember how it goes…”

  Prask started in on a not-at-all humorous anecdote from his days at Tab’s former prep school. Georgian
a’s mind wandered. She’d watched the kitchen and the servers and had come up with the average time delay between orders being placed and food being served. If her math was right, and it always was, she had to endure another ten minutes of inane conversation before Prask would be too busy stuffing his mouth to talk.

  She wrapped her fingers around the delicate stem of the wine glass. The ruby liquid, and the numbness it provided, was tempting. She didn’t want to have to think about her brother’s depression, the company, or Robert Norwood. She resisted the temptation. On an empty stomach, a glass of wine would have her saying something she’d eventually regret.

  Georgiana felt the curious eyes boring into her back. The next morning’s coffee shops and restaurants would be filled with gossip about her dinner with Prask. Speculation would range from a potential business alliance to her goal to be the next Mrs. Prask. Either option made bile rise in the back of her throat.

  “You’re welcome, by the way,” a familiar, unexpected voice murmured in her ear.

  Georgiana’s head reared back. She blinked several times to try and clear her vision, but the sight of Robert Norwood settling into the chair between Prask and her didn’t go away. Judging by Prask’s gaping maw, he was just as stunned by Robert’s appearance.

  Robert snagged Georgiana’s wine glass from her lax grasp and took a small taste. “A fine Malbec. Tannins are balanced perfectly. It is from Argentina, am I right?” Without waiting for a response, he set the glass on the table and signaled over his shoulder for the sommelier. “Lovely wine, but hardly something you’d drink for a celebration.”

  “What are we celebrating?” Prask’s voice was mild but his eyes were flinty. His meaty fists balled up the excess white tablecloth on his end of the table.

  “The weather. Dinner with a stunning woman, with a very stunning woman.” Dark eyes scorched Georgiana’s skin before turning to Prask. “My father’s good health. He’ll be home from the hospital early next week. Completely recovered, the doctor says.”