A Murderous Game

by Paris Patricia

"Like?" He arched a brow.

  "Like a lot of things." She threw her free arm up. "We could have a lover's quarrel. I might get tired of you. You might get tired of me, not be able to stand the sight of me. You'd criticize my cooking. I'd criticize you for leaving your dirty socks on the bathroom floor. You might think I'm frigid." She looked away. "Or s-something."

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and began to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. "It, it just wouldn't be a good idea."

  Gage rested their joined hands on his knees. He hadn't missed the flash of pain in her eyes an instant earlier. He swallowed, wondering if he was reading too much into it or if the suspicion beginning to form in his head was correct.

  "I know about your ex-husband's affairs," he said gently. She started to push up from the couch, but he kept hold of her hand and urged her back down.

  "I'm not surprised," she snapped. "You know about everything, don't you? You've got in-depth reports on our lives. You want to know something about somebody, you just send one of your agents out to invade their privacy." She jerked her hand free. "Did you discover all the torrid details of my love life, Gage?" She shot up, glaring at him.

  "You didn't have one." He came to his feet as well.

  She closed her eyes as if he'd stung her and then picked up her briefcase to leave. Gage caught her shoulders from behind and pulled her back against his chest. She tried to jerk away, but he wrapped his arms around her.

  "You didn't have one because your husband didn't love you. He probably isn't capable of love. And it's obvious he had no taste." She stiffened in his embrace. "If he had," he said with honest emotion, "he would have recognized what an amazing woman he'd married and done everything in his power to show her how special she was."

  Abby's shoulders slumped and he felt her go limp. He turned her around and cradled her in his arms. "The bastard didn't deserve you." He rubbed his hands up and down her back. "And I've got a feeling he did a lot more than betray your trust. You're a beautiful, passionate woman, Abby, and I'm not going to let your ex-husband get in the way of us having a satisfying relationship."

  She sighed against his chest. "Dick and I are divorced, remember? He has nothing to do with what happens between you and me."

  Gage eased her back. "Doesn't he?"

  She shook her head. "No. And I don't want to talk about him." She drew a deep breath. "Or you and me. I can't deny I'm attracted to you. But we're not going to have a personal relationship. I don't want one."

  He knew her well enough by now to recognize the stubborn bent to her chin. As soon as she walked out of here, she'd start erecting walls. Walls meant to keep him out.

  Gage suspected her husband's affairs weren't the most damaging thing he'd subjected her to. Based on her reactions, he suspected the guy probably made her think his infidelity had been her fault, that if she'd been more of a woman, he wouldn't have looked elsewhere. Men like Carpenter were always looking to blame someone else for their own deficiencies.

  Maybe someday Gage would get an opportunity to pay the senator's son back for doing such a job on Abby. He didn't like thinking about the humiliation the guy must have made her feel. And he didn't like thinking about all the obstacles he'd have to overcome to win her trust because of it. He would, though, because Abby was wrong. They would have a personal relationship. And when they did, she would want it.

  Keeping one arm around her waist, he turned her toward the door. "Come on. I'll take you home."

  ~~~

  Abby refused to consider the possibility of an affair. In fact, after Gage dropped her off the night before, she'd been doing everything she could not to think of him at all.

  Tuesday she buried herself in paperwork and made random calls to clients she hadn't spoken to in weeks, just to check in. She rescheduled her dinner with Rachael until the following night and stayed late and wrote a business plan for how she'd accomplish her goals. She didn't leave the office until after nine o'clock, took a cab home and went to bed without dinner.

  Wednesday she was out of the office on calls most of the day. She cancelled dinner with Rachael again because she knew her friend would want to talk about what was happening in their lives, and Abby had nothing she wanted to talk about. She pleaded a headache and said they'd just skip it this week. She went home, took some aspirin, and worked at the kitchen table until midnight when fatigue ensured she'd have no trouble falling asleep.

  By Friday the gruesome week she'd put in had caught up to her. Exhausted, stressed by insistent and encroaching thoughts of Gage, and disgusted she hadn't been able to control her feelings the way she'd wanted, she gave in to frustration and broke one of her resolutions. When Harold Billings told her she was looking hot—she murdered him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Saturday dawned sunny, contrasting with Abby's somewhat doleful mood. Rachael called around ten to see if Abby wanted to catch an afternoon matinee.

  When the phone rang, she'd half expected it to be Gage. He'd told her he'd be returning on Friday, and after the things he'd said Monday night, she was a little surprised he hadn't called yesterday.

  Maybe with a week to think things over he'd realized she'd been right, and any personal involvement between them would be a mistake. Refusing to credit her melancholy to disappointment, she agreed to meet Rachael at the theatre.

  "I would have liked it better if Caroline hadn't died," Rachael said, as they walked down

  Front Street toward the tiny restaurant where they'd decided to have dinner after the show. "She had to die. It was a true story, Rach. They're not going to change facts just so they can give you a happy ending."

  "Well, I would have ended it when Caroline and Peter got married. Not with him standing over her grave."

  "If it makes you feel better, he died less than a year later. So they've been reunited in death for about twenty years now. Maybe someone will do a sequel, and you can get your happy ending. They can call it something like Stuck with Each Other for Eternity."

  Rachael threw her a scowl.

  Abby stepped around a questionable blob on the sidewalk. "Anyway, how do you know they wouldn't have gotten sick of each other and ended up getting divorced if they'd lived?"

  "You know, you've turned into a real pisser lately, Ab. You wouldn't be so negative if you had a man in your life."

  "Oh please!" Abby threw up her hands. "This from a woman who starts lacing her running shoes whenever anyone begins to show any genuine interest?"

  "That's not true. I've got plenty of men in my life. I simply adore men. The world would be so boring without them, they're just so lovable."

  Abby arched her brows. "Yeah, you just don't want to be in love with one of them."

  "When I find the right one," Rachael insisted. "But at least I haven't built a fortress around myself so no man can get within a hundred feet of me."

  "I wish," Abby said absentmindedly. "Maybe then I wouldn't be in this ridiculous mess."

  Rachael quirked an interested brow. "What mess?"

  "Nothing," Abby said shortly, realizing her mistake and kicking herself over it. She picked up her pace. "Did you notice the new planters they put along the street? Nice, huh?"

  "What mess?"

  Abby rolled her eyes. Damn her big fat mouth. Once Rachael got her teeth around something a hydraulic toothpick couldn't get it free.

  "Come on, Ab, this is Rachael, girlfriend. What mess are we talking about?"

  Abby came to an abrupt stop and put her hands on her hips. "Gage Faraday!" She said with a week's worth of frustration. "That mess! A major, stupid, I'd prefer not to talk about it, mess! Satisfied?"

  Rachael stared at Abby for several fully punctuated seconds before her lips curved into a very smug, very amused, smile. "I-knew-it." She laughed. "I knew this mood of yours had something to do with that man."

  Abby started walking again. "Okay, so now that I've verified what you already knew, let's drop it."

  Rachael's laughter followed her. "Oh no you don't!" She
caught up to Abby. "After all, what are best friends for if not to share all the juicy little details of their love lives?"

  Abby insisted she and Gage did not have a love life. That was right before Rachael sat Abby down in the restaurant, badgered, begged, applied guilt, and finally dragged the entire story of the last two weeks out of her.

  ~~~

  Gage spotted a parking spot only a block from Abby's street and squeezed into the impossibly tight space, a skill he'd honed during his days of parallel parking in South Philly.

  He was looking forward to seeing her. She'd monopolized a fair portion of his thoughts all week. A dozen times he'd started to call, just to hear her voice. Fortunately logic had prevailed, preventing him from making a strategic mistake.

  The minute she had shot off those reasons why they shouldn't get involved, he realized he was dealing with more than simple resistance. You didn't just lump being frigid with dirty socks on the bathroom floor. It was too damned oblique. And he was convinced the only reason she'd bring it up was if someone had convinced her she was.

  He shook his head. No one who responded to him the way Abby had could be frigid. And once he gained her trust, he was going to take great pleasure in proving it to her.

  Grabbing the folder he'd brought off the passenger seat, he got out of the car and locked the doors. He grinned as he jogged the short distance to her townhouse. Just a bit overanxious, are we?

  She might not even be home. He hadn't called because he didn't want to give her an opportunity to come up with an excuse why he couldn't stop over, or to make a hasty getaway. He knocked on the door, wondering if it would have been too obvious if he'd brought chocolates.

  "Well hell-oh!" The sultry brunette standing in the doorway radiated hot. Her deep brown eyes said s-e-x, any way you like it. "Long time, Gage darling," she drawled, catching him by surprise.

  He searched her face. "I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage."

  She gave him a once over that would have made most men blush. "Oh." Her lips curved with feline pulchritude as she studied him. "I don't think so." She extended a hand.

  He took it. "Do we know each other?" he asked, thinking she seemed vaguely familiar.

  "I'm Abby's best friend. I was there the night of the infamous diary debacle."

  He nodded, remembering a tall young girl with dark waist length hair. "Rachael, right," he said, amazed when the name came back to him after all these years.

  "Oooh darling, I'm flattered."

  "Who is it, Rach?" Abby's voice came from somewhere inside.

  Rachael pulled him through the door. "She's not as opposed to you as she's trying to convince herself," she said in a rushed whisper. "If she doesn't come around soon, call me. I'll give you some pointers. I know her better than anyone." She smiled broadly then gave him a gentle shove into the room before closing the door.

  It took Gage a minute to regain his wit. "Thanks," he finally said with a chuckle. He shook his head and met her gaze with a warm smile. "I'll remember that."

  She winked at him then started to walk toward the kitchen, crooking her finger for him to follow. He did, realizing he'd just found himself an ally. A very formidable one if he wasn't missing his guess.

  ~~~

  "Who was at the—" Abby looked up and froze in the middle of the kitchen floor, a bowl of nachos in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She stared at the achingly handsome man in faded jeans and white oxford shirt.

  "Gage, what are you doing here?" Her eyes shot to the manila folder in his hands. She took several shaky steps to the counter and set the wine and chips down. Before he could see how her hands trembled, she slipped them into the pockets of her navy blue slacks.

  He gave her a lazy smile. "Hello, Abby." His eyes lingered on hers, infinitely, halting time. She had to dredge deep for the strength to look away before she fell under his spell.

  Rachael leaned against the doorframe grinning like a stupid goose. Some best friend.

  "I hope I'm not intruding." Gage glanced from Abby to Rachael. "I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop this off." He handed Abby the folder, his fingers stroking the length of hers when she took it.

  "What is it?" she asked, trying to focus on something other than the dangerous sensations he set off with a simple touch.

  "A positioning paper our internal marketing group put together. I want to get your thoughts on it."

  "Sure. I'll look it over tomorrow and give you a call on Monday. I intended to call you anyway about some ideas I had for targeting residents."

  Gage rubbed his jaw. "Normally that would be fine, but I'll be tied up in meetings all day Monday and Tuesday, and I want to get things rolling on this immediately." He frowned, as if trying to think of an alternative. "All right look, why don't you go over it tomorrow? I can drop by in the evening, say around six. We can discuss your other ideas then as well."

  Meeting him tomorrow at her house didn't sound like a good idea. She had to try to keep their relationship professional so neither one of them got hurt. It would be best to meet in one of their offices, preferably during the day when other people were around.

  Gage glanced between her and Rachael. "I've interrupted. I won't take anymore of your time." He nodded to Rachael. "Good to see you again."

  "A pleas-zure," Rachael drawled with a wink.

  Abby furrowed her brow. Why did she have the feeling she was missing something?

  Turning back to her, Gage said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Abby. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

  "Umm, about tomorrow." She blurted before he could leave and she'd be stuck. "I sort of had plans and, well... I promised Rachael's mother I'd come with Rach on her next visit...to the nursing home." She glanced nervously at Rachael. "We're close. I've always been like a second daughter. And, well, I haven't gone for a while, and I already told her I'd be coming. Why don't I read things over and first thing Monday I'll send—"

  "Oh, Ab," Rachael said dramatically. "I forgot to tell you." She laid a hand on her heart, and Abby knew she was doomed. "One of Mom's nurses called this morning. Mom's been having problems again with, how do I say this delicately? Well, with constipation." She smiled sweetly at Gage. "If things don't, you know, come out all right on their own, they're going to give her an enema tomorrow. You know how cranky Mom is when she gets one of those. I told her I'd wait until the middle of the week to visit, when she's feeling better."

  Abby would kill her. She glanced at Gage. He was staring at Rachael with his mouth open. He blinked and snapped it shut.

  "Well, I guess that settles things." His voice squeaked, as if he were biting back a laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow, Abby." As he passed Rachael on his way out of the kitchen, he said, "I hope your mother's, err, condition improves soon."

  "Oh," she assured him, sounding totally unconcerned, "it will."

  As soon as the front door clicked shut, Abby whirled on Rachael in disgust.

  "How could you!" She threw her arms up, exasperated. "Didn't you get it? I didn't want to meet with him tomorrow? Damn it, Rach, I thought you were my friend. And how could you give your mom an enema? Jeez freaking Louise!"

  "I am your friend, your very dearest friend. That's precisely why I freed you up for that absolutely gorgeous hunk of male. And don't go condemning me about Mom. I only gave her constipation. How do you think she's going to feel when she gets back from Paris and discovers you've put her in a nursing home at the tender age of fifty-four?"

  Abby picked up the bottle of wine from the counter and filled the two glasses she'd set there earlier. Lifting one up, she held it in front of her lips. "There will come a day, my very dearest friend," she said with gentle warning, "in the not too distant future, that I will have my revenge." She took a sip of wine, and with a sardonic smile added, "And I promise you, it will be sweet."

  ~~~

  True to his word, they talked business. GFI's internal group had proposed some good ideas, especially those for marketing the luxury condos
and pricey townhouses that would border the river. Abby told Gage what she agreed and disagreed with and why. He asked tough questions and listened quietly while she answered. He genuinely seemed to value her opinions.

  "We should consider advertising in the Wall Street Journal, as well as other business journals." Abby crossed her legs and balanced a notepad on her knee. "That way you'll attract some of the executive relocation market before some corporate realtor puts them in a million dollar mansion out on the Main Line. In fact, we should get a list of local companies doing corporate relos and find out who handles their executive programs."

  They'd been working over an hour when Gage suggested ordering a pizza.

  "They said it would be about forty-five minutes," Abby said after she hung up the phone. "I'm going to make some coffee. Want some?"

  "Yeah, I could use a shot of caffeine." He followed her into the kitchen. "What are your thoughts on how we get buy-in from the local business community?"

  "You'll get some resistance," Abby said as she ground beans for the coffee. "But you're going to have some strong supporters, too. Philadelphia's a big restaurant town. Riv One will bring in people who like to eat out and can afford to spend the money when they do."

  She filled the carafe with water and poured it into the coffee maker. "Even though there'll be a five-star restaurant on-site, residents will try other things, so other restaurant owners will welcome you. Since they're already part of the club, I'd use them as advocates."

  She turned around and leaned against the opposite counter from Gage while the coffee brewed. "I haven't focused on this aspect too much yet, but I'll put together a list of possible supporters and resisters."

  They continued discussing some of her ideas. Gage had a reputation for being extremely intelligent, aggressive, ruthless and unemotional. But standing in her kitchen, in a pair of faded jeans and a butter colored button-down shirt, Abby had a hard time believing a lot of that.

  Absolutely he was intelligent, and she'd even seen examples of his aggressive business strategies. No one who'd accomplished what he had could do so without being aggressive. But unemotional? Ruthless?