"I have to apologize. I didn't get any sleep last night. I guess my mind drifted. It does that when I'm tired." His steady gaze made her nervous.
"Lack of sleep can have a serious negative impact on a person's concentration," she added, knowing she was probably babbling but feeling a need to explain her drifting. "I actually read that somewhere," she insisted, growing more uncomfortable. Maybe she had, but it was more likely she'd just made it up. "Severe sleep deprivation can even cause one to hallucinate." Oh just shut up, a disgusted voice said in her head, you're being obvious.
Gage continued to watch her for several seconds. Something in his expression altered. Damn the room was getting warm. Maybe what she'd said was true because the air seemed to be changing around them, becoming heavier. Abby felt as if they were hanging in it. Sounded like hallucinations to her.
"I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable," he said, leaning forward, "but I have to tell you, you have incredibly beautiful eyes."
Momentarily stunned, Abby said the first thing that entered her mind. "They're green."
His mouth curled into a slow, lopsided grin that made his already handsome face killer gorgeous. "I hope whatever slogans you develop for Riv One won't be quite so obvious."
She had to get away from him for a minute or two to regroup. No matter how hard she tried to stop the crazy spiraling she'd begun to feel, she was afraid the brakes were failing and she was skidding head on into a danger zone. She knew it was foolish. Intellectually, yeah, she got it, she was attracted to the man. But her heart was skipping off into la-la land, tripping with ever increasing speed in the very last direction it should be going.
Abby stood up, and without preamble said, "I need to use the powder room."
Clearing his throat, Gage got up and strolled to his desk. He reached underneath the front lip and then nodded toward the side wall where one of the rich mahogany panels slid open.
"Thanks." She managed a shaky smile and practically ran from the room.
~~~
Gage finished mixing the drinks he decided to make after Carpenter had bolted. Why had he made that stupid comment about her eyes? Damn. He knew, and he didn't like it one bit. He didn't want to be attracted to her. He never mixed business with pleasure. It went against his code, and he wouldn't start now.
Obviously, she felt it, too, the shift that had been taking place all evening. The way she fled the room a few minutes ago, she wasn't any happier about it than he was.
The door panel slid back open and he looked up. He tried not to watch as she came toward the bar. That little number she had on was a far cry from the conservative suits she wore on their first two encounters. It made a man want. He didn't want to want. Not this woman. Unfortunately, his body was behaving like a recalcitrant child who didn't understand the meaning of no.
"What are you doing?" she asked as she drew closer.
"I was getting thirsty. I thought you might want something, too. I poured you a brandy." He handed it to her. "If you don't like it, I can fix you something else."
"Thanks. I've never tried brandy." She took a sip, catching a stray drop on her full bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. "It's warm. I think I could like it."
I think I could like you. Desire pumped through his blood. He wanted to do some licking of his own. And that would definitely be a mistake. She was a professional. Even if she felt a mutual attraction, she wouldn't acknowledge it. She'd expect no less from him. He expected no less from him.
"I usually drink wine." She averted her eyes. She wouldn't be so skittish if she were unaffected by him. Why did that please him? He wanted her unaffected; one of them damn well needed to be.
"What's your preference? I'll make sure I have some next time."
"Cabernet, or pinot, but this is fine. I didn't mean to seem ungracious."
"You didn't." He sounded like an idiot. They were experiencing nothing more than normal curiosity. Put an attractive woman in front of a healthy man and it happened. No big deal, it would pass, and not soon enough for his comfort.
"Ready to get back to work?" he suggested.
"Sure," she said a little too quickly, and made for the couch.
He sat on the couch as well, in the corner, facing her, a good three feet of distance between them. She had her guard up. Gage didn't want her to be nervous. If she felt uncomfortable working with him, it could hurt the project.
He wasn't willing to settle for someone else just because they'd run into a little snag. Hoping to put her at ease, he dove back into the overview of Riv One.
"Obviously our internal marketing group has put together a number of ideas. I'll leave it up to you how you want to work with them, but they've got some good people on staff. They'll be made available to you if you need them."
Carpenter worked her way through the brandy like it was soda. Since it seemed to relax her, he fixed her another when she finished it. The second glass went down a little slower. By the time it disappeared, she no longer looked ready to rocket off the couch if he said "boo." In fact, he thought, watching her tap her fingertips over her mouth to stifle a yawn, she looked like she wanted to take a nap.
"Am I boring you?" Was the skin on her cheeks as soft as it looked?
"Not at all." She shook her head, a dreamy smile hovering on her lips. "I could listen to you all night. I'm learning a lot." Her eyes drifted down then back up in slow motion.
Gage pushed forward. He avoided looking at her in favor of the blueprints. She wasn't contributing much, and after a while he began to feel like a talking head. "It'll work the same way with Riv One. We provide the venture capital, retain ownership, and install one of our management companies to oversee the property."
Something wasn't right. He'd only known her a couple of days, but he'd formed some strong impressions. She carried herself well, presented a serene, polished exterior, but underneath the cool, collected professional he'd gotten glimpses of an active mind bubbling over with ideas, opinions, and enthusiasm.
After a few murmured umm-hmms, Gage sensed she'd stopped listening altogether. Curiosity got the better of him and he cautioned a glance. "It's much more profitable for us to—"
He moved quickly, catching her just as she started to fall sideways. She slumped against him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. The woman was sound asleep.
Now what the hell did he do? She mumbled something incoherent then made a smacking noise with her mouth. He smiled; he couldn't help himself. He should be angry, offended, anything but amused.
She had to be exhausted. He knew she'd never allow herself to fall asleep during a business meeting otherwise. He rubbed his thumb back and forth along her jaw. Lord, he'd been right--soft as silk. He gave in to the desire he'd been fighting all evening and lowered his head to her hair, breathing her in. Her scent was exotic, musky and floral, like his aunt's rose garden.
He eased her down onto the couch and then went into the bathroom and got a blanket and pillow from the linen closet. He kept them there for the occasional night he worked too late and crashed in his office.
After making her as comfortable as possible, he decided he might as well be productive.
Carpenter slept. Gage returned a couple of dozen emails, dictated a memo to Grace, and reviewed a proposal to fund a plastics plant.
Two hours later he glanced at his watch. Getting up, he fixed himself another drink and took it to stand in front of the windows. He stared out over the city, not really seeing it. Next week they broke ground. He and Matt would firm up site security tomorrow. They were at ninety percent compliment, and he'd been assured they'd be at one hundred when they were ready to roll.
Carpenter murmured something in her sleep, and he glanced over his shoulder. Taking a sip of his scotch, he walked to the couch and gazed down at her. He lifted the corner of the blanket and pulled it up over her shoulder where it had slipped off.
She looked so peaceful, so trusting. He felt a wave of tenderness that surprised him. He imagined himsel
f lying with her, just holding her, both of them sleeping. Lord knew he could use the rest. When was the last time he'd wanted to just hold a woman and fall asleep beside her? Hell, had he ever? He needed to get away, take some time to unwind. He was overextended, and these ridiculous musings were proof he was in danger of losing his edge.
As deeply as she slept, Gage hated to wake her. She wouldn't have crashed so hard if she hadn't been exhausted. He went back to work. By eleven thirty he'd run out of steam. He turned off the computer and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze settling on Carpenter.
He watched her from the safety of his desk for several minutes. Sitting there in the quiet, lights dimmed, he felt a strange intimacy, one that filled him with a longing for something more in his life. He probably shouldn't have let her sleep this long. She probably wouldn't be happy.
Sighing, he got up and went to the couch. Crouching down, he leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear. "Abby," he whispered, and realized it was the first time he'd referred to her that way. "Abby."
She smiled in her sleep and rolled to face him.
"Come on, sleeping beauty, time to wake up." He leaned back as she started to stir. The eyes he hadn't been able to forget for three days came slowly open, wobbling around as she fought against the holds of sleep. He grinned.
In the next instant she came fully awake. She lurched forward and would have rolled off the couch if he hadn't reached out to steady her.
"Easy." Gage rested a hand on her shoulder.
Looking confused, she pushed up into a sitting position. "What happened? What am I doing on the couch?"
"You fell asleep."
"No I didn't!" Her eyes grew wide, and he could tell she was horrified.
Gage chuckled. "Yes, you did." He'd guess if she could find a way to melt into the floor she'd do it.
"I don't believe it." She tucked a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. "I'm so sorry. You must think—"
Gage touched a finger to her lips. "I think you must have been exhausted. You said you didn't get any sleep last night. My guess is that after a sleepless night, the brandy just knocked you out."
He stood up and reached down, taking her hand. "And now I think it's time to get you home." He pulled her up with very little effort. He resisted the urge to pull her even further, into his arms. It would have been easy…and a mistake.
"I'm so embarrassed. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before." Her hands fussed over her dress. "If Mr. Norwell finds out, I'll be looking for a new job."
"Then it'll be our secret, green eyes."
"I appreciate that. I owe you one." She glanced away.
Damn, why had he called her that? It had just slipped out. Gage put his hands in his pockets. Shit.
"I'm umm, I should be going now." She spun away and took three or four jerky steps toward the door. He started to follow just as she turned back and collided with his chest. He caught her by the shoulders to steady her. She was so close, her soft mouth mere inches away, and he wanted to satisfy his curiosity. She stared up at him for several seconds and temptation snaked through him.
"Oh!" She brought her hands between them, preventing him from making a stupid mistake. "I didn't know you were…I forgot my briefcase." Stepping around him, she retrieved it. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. And I'm really sorry about falling asleep on you."
Gage sighed. "It's okay. Stop worrying about it." He got his suit jacket off the chair. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
"I can't let you do that." She followed him out, brushing his offer off without a beat. "I've already taken up enough of your evening."
"Where do you live?" He pressed the elevator call button.
"Really, Mr. Faraday." She gave him a look he knew meant business. "I'm fine going home on my own. I live in the city. I do it all the time."
"Not at," he glanced at his watch, "eleven forty-five."
She jerked her wrist up to check the time for herself. "Oh, no," she groaned. "How long did I sleep?"
"About four hours." He held the elevator door.
"You shouldn't have let me sleep. I've ruined your night."
"No, you didn't."
She straightened with a look he now recognized as stubborn determination. "Well that settles it. There's no way I'll inconvenience you any further. You aren't taking me home."
"Sorry, that's not an option." He couldn't let her leave alone, not this late, especially after she'd had a couple of drinks. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her.
With an exasperated sigh she turned to face him. "Really, I appreciate the offer. It's very kind, but I'm fine getting home on my—"
Gage walked off the elevator, leaving her no choice but to follow. The click of her heels on the cement slowed then stopped behind him. He turned around.
"Where are we?"
"The parking garage below the building. Come on."
She didn't move. He walked back and took her hand, pulling her along.
"Mr. Faraday, please." She tugged free. "You're not—"
"Yes." Gage came to an abrupt halt. He stared down at her with building frustration. "I am. It's late. We're both tired, and I have no intention of arguing with you all night in a damn parking lot, Miss Carpenter. Now let's go!"
Her mouth dropped open then snapped shut again. "Fine." Her tone was noticeably cooler. "I live in Society Hill. On
Delancey Street." Her chin came up. She smiled, a little tight, he thought. Once she was seated, he went around to the driver's side and got in. He stole a glance at her face as he backed out. She looked poised but he knew she wasn't pleased. He hadn't needed long to realize when Abigail Carpenter got that isn't everything just hunky-dory look, she'd drawn the curtains and bolted the shutters. He'd observed it in their meeting with Billings and Norwell, only then it had been her coworkers she'd shut out.
He was right to insist on taking her home. He hadn't meant to come on so strong, but she would have kept arguing and calling him Mr. Faraday, which had begun to bug the hell out of him.
"There are a few things you should be aware of if we're going to work together." He made a left out of the parking lot.
"It's always good to know the ground rules." She was all business again. He shot her a quick glance and wondered why her impersonal reserve grated. He wanted impersonal.
"We need to get a marketing plan in place as soon as possible." He made another left. "I expect you to make Riv One your top priority."
"I treat all my clients with priority, Mr. Faraday." She'd tapped into a pool of cool, a very deep pool.
"I'm sure you do. And although I realize you have other clients, Riv One will need to come first."
He knew he sounded unreasonable, but it might be good if she thought he was a jerk. It might alleviate the need to worry about this damned attraction that had sprung up between them.
"We should meet again tomorrow evening." The sooner they got moving the better. "Friday as well." They'd be breaking ground on Riv One next week, and he'd have even less time than he did now. "There's a high likelihood we may have to get together this weekend."
She crossed her arms, hugging them to herself as if she didn't trust she wouldn't hit him. Oh yeah, she was on slow burn.
"Mr. Norwell hasn't said anything to me yet. Have you informed him you're going with our firm?"
"No. I was tied up all day in meetings. I'll call him tomorrow."
"Should I expect to work many weekends?"
He tried not to smile. "Probably."
Why was he antagonizing her? He knew as well as she did that once they got the campaign in place, there'd be no reason for them to meet on a regular basis. GFI's internal marketing group could handle things ongoing.
"I see." She looked out the window.
"There may be occasions when I'll want you to accompany me to Chicago."
Her head swung to face him and her mouth fell open.
What the hell was he doing? There was no reason for her to acc
ompany him to Chicago, except one. The realization didn't please him. The mild attraction he'd tried to reason away after they'd met for lunch had exploded into full blown lust as he'd watched her sleeping on his office couch. Not, he cautioned himself, something he should consider exploring.
"Is there anything else I should be aware of, Mr. Faraday?"
"Actually, there is one more thing. Since we'll be spending so much time together, I insist you call me Gage."
~~~
Their first meeting had not unfolded quite like Abby had imagined. And that surprises you? Hello?
Why would she think the perfectly conceived drama she'd played out in her mind at least a dozen times since yesterday would translate into anything resembling reality? Life: starring a pragmatic Abigail Carpenter? Oh brother, talk about your textbook oxymoron.
Her vision of this evening had included her, a polished professional, impressing Gage with her intelligence, her poise, and maybe a touch of wit, because a sense of humor never hurt anyone. Nowhere in the script had she inhaled two glasses of brandy, crashed on his couch, and been tempted to enlighten him about his overbearing tendencies toward inflexibility with a swift pop to the jaw.
She couldn't even argue River Place One shouldn't be her number one priority when it would be the biggest thing she'd ever managed. Besides, every client she'd ever worked with considered their needs her top priority. So Gage was no different in that respect. Weekends and Chicago were a little over the top, but she suspected that was an exaggeration.
Her gaze drifted over the row of quaint Georgian townhouses with their perky flower boxes and brightly painted doors. Gage's insistence on bringing her home was really kind of sweet. Maybe chivalry hadn't gone the way of mood rings and mullets.
Why hadn't she just accepted his offer graciously instead of turning it into a battle of wills? He had only been thinking of her safety. Abby glanced across the seat at his profile, regret souring the back of her throat. Dick had done this to her.
"You know." She fidgeted with her seat belt buckle. "I read somewhere lack of sleep causes memory loss." Had she really? "People forget where they put things, or their kids' names. They can even forget things that have been drummed into them from birth, like good manners." She hitched her thumb toward the street. "Right out the window."
A Murderous Game Page 5