Valentine Voodoo

by Jianne Carlo

  “I want to kiss the stuffing out of you,” Eli growled. “I want to be inside you so baaad that I'm hurting, honey.”

  Her vagina walls did a quick clench and jerk, and sticky cream drenched her lacy thong. “You're making me wet.”

  The fingers framing her jaw tightened, and his cheeks hollowed.

  “Hold that thought, honey.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I'll try to rearrange our schedule so we can get out of here early.”

  The sun rose higher in the sky; warm rays dusted her cheeks and made the gold shots in Eli's gray irises deepen. Above them, birds chirped and squawked; the whirring of flapping wings took on a low drone as a flock of red-breasted sparrows flew an oval formation against a clear azure sky.

  “I forgot my purse,” Stephanie said as she reached through the limo's open door, retrieved her faux Louis Vuitton handbag, and slung the brown leather straps over one shoulder.

  Eli entwined her fingers with his, and they followed Bill and Genevieve through the revolving-glass-door entrance. The building's lobby made Stephanie gasp.

  “Spectacular, huh?” Eli squeezed her hand. “I knew you'd love it.”

  Twin waterfalls cascaded down a three-inch-thick marble, rock, and lichen border, which framed a high-def LCD screen that must have measured twenty by forty feet. Images dissolved and reformed: Mount Lassen's snow-covered peak, long, narrow valleys, emerald meadows dotted with wildflowers of every hue, the camera soaring and falling as if the lens wore wings.

  “We tagged random birds with minuscule cameras,” Bill explained. “Sparrows, a few peregrine falcons, a couple of ducks. There are cameras in the brooks and the streams, in trees. The LCD is programmed to a sixty-second variation from one camera to another. But half of what you see is CGI.”

  Half?

  Steel gaze bonded to the screen, she tried to discern reality from computer animation but couldn't. “Wow. This is better than anything I've ever, ever seen.”

  “Stop, Bill. You're making Stephanie drool.” Eli draped an arm around her shoulder, hauling her closer. Bending his head, he whispered, “You're having a graphic orgasm—aren't you, honey?” Warm, coffee-scented breath swirled her earlobe, and she met his twinkling gaze.

  Stephanie wriggled her tingling toes. Eli Gallagher's mere presence magnified her sense of smell, sharpened her vision, and made her lungs work harder.

  I'm done for.

  I'll do anything you want, Eli, anything. And if you did take those DVDs, you must have had a good reason.

  “Interested in seeing how it works?”

  Stephanie gave herself a mental shake. “Of course.”

  “I figured you'd be,” Bill stated. “I've arranged with our VP of technology, Shane Smith, to give you a tour and show you how we pull in the CGI parts.”

  “But what about the meeting?”

  “You three made good time, and the screening room won't be ready for half an hour,” Bill explained. “You go ahead and enjoy the tour. Eli, Genevieve, and I will go over the PR.”

  Shane Smith looked nothing like a computer genius. His face had the planes and angles of Ewan McGregor, but he had the stocky build, coloring, and five o'clock, stubbled shadow of a Mafia thug.

  “It's good to finally meet you, Stephanie,” Shane said as he shook her hand. “I've enjoyed our virtual collusion for Valentine.”

  “Same here, Shane. I particularly liked those shots you sent of Château Pontchartrain.”

  “Actually Genevieve Drummond's responsible for all of those. “ Shane checked his watch. “We'd better get a move on.”

  Talk about not judging a book by the cover; Shane proved he deserved his Mensa membership, and her thirty minutes on tour with him soared on the wings of an eagle. Enthralled and more than a little drunk on the beyond-the-leading-edge gadgets and software Dreamcoast's whiz-kid employees created right before her eyes, Stephanie lingered in the technology lab. Shane had to pry her off a machine that instantly displayed on an immense LCD the letter of the keyboard Stephanie pictured in her head.

  “Omigod,” she said. “Thank you. That was incredible. Wow. Are you ever lucky. I'd never go home.”

  “Tell you a little secret—most nights I don't,” Shane quipped as he led her back to the lobby.

  “Lots of sleeping on a couch?”

  “Nah, we have six small bedrooms off the studio. When we're on deadline, we work around the clock.” Shane halted as he rounded the corner, and they both glimpsed Bill, Genevieve, and Eli waiting near the waterfall.

  “I'll leave you here.” Shane shot her a smile. “You're in good hands.”

  As Stephanie and Shane approached the center of the lobby, Genevieve flashed Shane a half-smile and then strolled in the direction of the glass elevator.

  “Did you bring the movie trailer?” Bill asked as Stephanie halted about a foot away from him.

  “Of course. I have it stored on a DVD and a USB drive in here.” Stephanie jiggled the rectangular purse rimming her hip. “I have to thank you, Bill. That tour was incredible. Too bad we don't have any other joint projects planned.”

  “Can you believe the way she lights up about software and hardware?” The morning sun shifted over Eli's profile, and Stephanie's pulse jogged. His pinkie curled around hers, and he gave her hand a little squeeze.

  Gizmos and machines don't make the world fall away; they don't string a tightrope from my heart to my nipples.

  “You're more than welcome. I love showing off my toys to people who can really appreciate them. The screening room's all set up.” Bill waved her and Eli ahead, then cupped Genevieve's elbow and led her into the see-through elevator. “I haven't seen the trailer as yet. Iggie wanted it to be a surprise. We've set up a real-time satellite link to Bradenton. My sales and marketing teams are waiting to see it.”

  As the elevator shot to the penthouse office, Stephanie unzipped her purse and fumbled through the first compartment, searching for the DVD case and the oval USB drive. Her fingers encountered tackiness, and her nails scraped a thick goop that burned on contact.

  “Ouch.” Stephanie yanked her hand out of the bag. “What the heck?” Holding open the purse, she peered inside.

  “What's wrong?” Eli asked.

  The elevator bumped to a stop, bells dinged, and the doors slid open.

  “Something must have spilled in my purse. My fingertips are stinging. I don't think this is spilled hand cream.”

  Chapter Six

  “The DVD and the USB drive are ruined,” Bill stated. “But of course you have backups in Bradenton.”

  “I'm sure we do,” Eli agreed.

  A greenish hue tinted Stephanie's snowy complexion, and she looked ready to empty her stomach. The sink in the bathroom off Bill's office held the contents of her purse, all covered in a tacky mixture of Vaseline and, according to Dreamcoast's lab tests, sulfuric acid.

  “Thank God you didn't stick your fingers in there for long. Look at what it's done to your wallet.” Eli tunneled one hand through his hair as he studied the acid-burned holes in the leather. “How did the acid get in there? Are you sure the purse was always with you?”

  “Of course I'm sure. I took the DVD and the USB out of my laptop case and put them in my purse before I left the hotel room this morning.”

  The pads of Stephanie's index and forefinger had reddened from contact with the acid in her handbag. Dreamcoast's on-call physician had examined her hand and declared the damage minimal, but Eli's brain hadn't processed past panic.

  Who the fuck wants to harm Stephanie? The acid could've eaten her skin raw.

  He swallowed past the acridity rising up his throat. Even though they'd opened all the doors leading to the wraparound balcony encircling Bill's top-floor office, Eli's eyes still stung from the fumes lingering in the bathroom.

  “You didn't put the purse down in the lobby or rest it somewhere for a few seconds?” Genevieve Drummond asked.

  “No, it was on my shoulder the whole time.”

&
nbsp; Eli grabbed her hand again and squinted at her fingers.

  I'm going to pound the son of a bitch into next week.

  “Has the burning stopped?” His voice came out hoarsened.

  “I'm okay, Eli,” she answered. “Really.”

  “Someone dumped sulfuric acid into your purse,” Eli said. “And where the hell are the bodyguards that were supposed to show up this morning? First that voodoo-doll incident yesterday, now this.”

  “Voodoo-doll incident?” Bill shoved his glasses up his nose.

  Eli spat out a summary of the event.

  “I approved all of the promos for the winery for Valentine Voodoo's preview.” Genevieve's perfect, even tan took on an ashen cast. “I can promise you we never hired any voodoo priests and priestesses. The target audience for the movie is five- to eight-year-olds. Dolls with genitals.” She shook her head. “No way.”

  “I think I need to sit down,” Stephanie muttered, and she gripped the rounded porcelain sink so tightly that the skin covering her knuckles stretched taut and paled. She swayed, and Eli swore a blue streak and caught her up in his arms.

  “You need to lie down for a few minutes.”

  Striding back into Bill's cavernous office, he headed straight for a plush leather sofa and sat, cradling Stephanie against his chest. “I can't remember the last time I've felt so scared. What the hell's happening? Why would anyone want to hurt you, honey?”

  “Eli, someone stole three of the movie DVDs and hacked into the server yesterday. That was what Chris told me when she called this morning,” Stephanie whispered in his ear, her lips and hot breath tickling the whorls.

  For a second his numbed mind didn't react, then two and two added to a hundred and one, and his jaw muscles jerked and twitched. “Let me guess. I'm a suspect. That's what got into you this morning. Dunlop told you not to tell me, didn't she?”

  A wave of emotion sizzled nerves still raw and jangling from the near miss Stephanie had suffered into a fury Eli hadn't felt since his father had died and left him to cope with the family's finances when he should have been a carefree college student.

  “You believed me capable of theft?” His voice rose with each word he snarled.

  Avoiding his gaze, she mumbled, “I'm sure you had a good reason if you took them.” She stared at the wall of windows sheathing a view of curved pine trunks and dense branches bearing luxuriant bottle green leaves.

  He wanted to shake her silly. His teeth ground together so hard, he figured his eyeteeth would chip any second.

  “Damn it, Steph. You couldn't have had a little faith! For crap's sake, just because I'm a salesman doesn't mean that I don't have ethics. Why in the fuck would I steal the movie when I've negotiated a nine-figure distribution contract? I get a three percent commission. Do you know how much I make on this deal?” He shook her now and brought his face inches away from hers.

  “Stop hollering,” she said through gritted teeth. “For your information, I didn't think for a minute you'd go behind anyone's back. Not you, Mr. Macho Salesman. No, you'd walk right out with the damned DVDs and tell everyone to go stuff it where the sun don't shine.”

  “Damn right I would,” he shouted.

  “I'll set off the fire sprinklers if you two don't calm down.” Bill plopped onto one of the chairs in front of the couch. “I gather we have missing imprint DVDs?”

  “Yes,” Stephanie replied. “Three are missing, and our server was hacked yesterday.”

  “With all due respect,” Bill said, “it seems we have a conspiracy on our hands.” He flipped a finger. “One—three missing DVDs. Two—server breached. Three—unexpected voodoo entertainment. Four—book trailers destroyed. I called Iggie about the trailer and the acid. He's flying out as soon as possible.”

  Eli's arms tightened when Stephanie tried to wriggle out of his lap. “Don't even try it,” he growled, his self-discipline fraying in the face of her betrayal. “Someone's trying to sabotage Valentine Voodoo's launch. Why?”

  “Asia?”Genevieve suggested. “You know Southern Adventures has been trying to broaden its base and diversify into film and multi-media. Cupid's Arrow is the company's first movie, and it releases the same day as Valentine. We all know Asia wouldn't hesitate to derail the Valentine launch.”

  “He's too smart for a dumb move like this,” Bill argued.

  “Not if he's on a bender,” Genevieve retorted. “According to Asia's VP of finance, he's made some shaky investments over the last couple of years. Southern Adventures is bleeding red like there's no tomorrow. Asia needs Cupid to be a blockbuster.”

  When Eli'd first started in the business, Genevieve and Asia had been the go-to Hollywood power couple. Asia's finance VP and Genevieve had had a fling last year. When the paparazzi blasted her affair on every front-page rag, the resulting scandal had fractured their troubled marriage. Their recent vicious divorce and the prolonged lawsuit over the prenuptial contract she'd signed had prompted headlines and provided ample fodder for comedians and talk-show hosts.

  Eli cut her a surreptitious glance, the old proverb about a woman scorned waltzing the corners of his mind.

  “Asia's been sober for over a year,” Bill stated. “We've been discussing an amusement ride themed around Newt Nocturne, the otter from our last animated short. I can't see him going off the deep end when there's so much money to be made.”

  “You weren't at the wine tasting last night, Genevieve,” Stephanie said. Fine lines formed as her eyes narrowed and she squinted against the bright sunshine flooding the room.

  “I had a meeting in the city and got caught in the rush-hour traffic caused by a closed lane on the Bay Bridge. By the time I got to the château, everyone was all gone.”

  Eli didn't like the convenient excuse. “Make a few calls, Genevieve. Find out who hired those voodoo bozos to perform yesterday.”

  The phone intercom on Bill's desk buzzed and glowed. “Bill, Mr. Mason's on his way here. His jet should touch down in three hours.”

  “Between my office desktop and my notebook, I think I can recreate the trailer. But my laptop's at the hotel. I forgot my extra battery and left it charging.” Stephanie shifted on Eli's lap. The flat press of her ass on his cock distracted him for a second, and he didn't register her fingers digging into his bicep at first as a signal.

  “It might be best if we head back to the hotel right away, Bill.” Eli cut Stephanie a sideways glance and caught the slight approving dip of her chin. “There isn't much we can do here today.”

  “Of course. If you leave now, you'll avoid rush hour.” Bill set his glasses at the top of the bridge of his nose. “I'll get IT to put together a care package.”

  Fifteen minutes later, armed with a grab bag of technology goodies, multiple USB drives, a couple of external DVDs, and JPEGs of Valentine from different angles, Eli maneuvered Stephanie into the waiting limousine. Since the routes to Château Pontchartrain and San Francisco required a detour in order to drop her off, Genevieve opted to rent a car and drive back to her office.

  “Do you really think you can put together a copy of the trailer?” Eli asked the minute the limo started to crawl down Dreamcoast's graduated driveway. “Or was that an excuse to get out of there?”

  “A bit of both,” she admitted. “I couldn't stand any more of Genevieve's snide remarks about Asia. She really hates her ex. Eli, about the DVDs.” She wrung her hands together. “Chris shocked the daylights out of me with the news. I didn't really know what to think.”

  “I'd never for a second believe you capable of theft. It galls to know you actually considered the notion for me.” He had no intention of letting her off the hook. Glancing at the paper bag that held the contents of her purse, he relented a tad. “I just can't figure out how the acid got into your handbag. Are you positive it was always in your possession?”

  Gathering thunderclouds obliterated the sun, and the insides of the limo darkened; the temperature dipped, and Stephanie hugged her arms. “Positive. I rushed out of t
he hotel room because I was running a little late. Wait a minute.” She drew her legs onto the seat and sat yoga-style, arranging the loose skirt and tucking the silken material under her feet. “I let housekeeping in just before I left the room, freshened up in the bathroom, and then I picked up my purse from the living room and headed to the lobby.”

  “That's a stretch.” Eli tucked his hands behind his head, slumping into the far door and propping his feet on the opposite seat. “Housekeeping put the acid in your purse? I don't buy that. It had to be someone at Dreamcoast. Wait a minute—why did you have the only copy of the movie trailer?”

  “I have the only copy outside of those stored in the safe in the New York bank. Chris wanted added security, so my laptop was never connected to the office network. I used USB drives and that one DVD when I worked on it.”

  Eli's cell vibrated. He shot a glance at the LCD screen and then groaned. “Hold that thought, honey. I have to take this.” The incoming number came from the CEO of the latest deal he was working, a great guy, but long-winded and detailed.

  “That's okay,” she said, flashing him a sympathetic smile. “I'll call my parents in the meantime.”

  A full ninety minutes and several phone calls later, Eli stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket, vowing not to answer another ring. Busy typing something into her cell, Stephanie jumped when he took advantage of a red light and kissed her cheek.

  “Yikes! Eli Gallagher, you scared the daylights out of me.” One palm pressed to her chest, she added, “You could have just cleared your throat or something like that.”

  “You looked too delicious.”

  “Flatterer. I've trying to figure out why anyone would destroy the trailer. I mean, we can easily re-create it, given time and a bunch of resources.”

  “Trailers are a team effort, not so?” Eli studied her features in the shifting light as the sun peeked out of its cloud blanket. She nibbled her pinkie, and he knew her mind raced. He liked watching her think and seeing the various emotions playing over her face. A frown furrowed her forehead, her lips canted into a tight moue, and she focused unseeingly at a spot to the left of his crossed ankles.