The empty glass clattered to the floor as Annabel toppled sideways and slid off the bench, disappearing under the table. Georgina dove after her. Annabel's mouth hung open. A soft gurgling sound rose from her throat and echoed against the tabletop above them.
Georgina crawled out and rushed to the bar. “Does anyone know first aid? My friend has fainted."
The bartender in a Popeye outfit came over and poked his head under the table. He curled his fingers over Annabel's wrist, then pulled up one of her eyelids and peered. “She's just drunk,” he announced. “Take her home, put her to bed. She'll have one hell of a headache tomorrow."
"How I do I get a taxi?” Georgina fretted.
"Jimmy will help you.” Popeye pointed to the entrance, where a burly pirate kept guard.
Georgina ran up to the pirate and tipped him a twenty. The pirate disappeared down the street. Georgina returned inside and found Annabel asleep under the table. The pirate reappeared a few minutes later, and together they heaved Annabel's limp body outside, where a battered cab waited.
"No. She'll throw up.” The swarthy cabbie reached to slam the door.
"I'll pay.” Georgina dug in her handbag while the pirate supported Annabel. “Look.” She showed the cabbie a roll of bills. “I'll give you a hundred dollars if she's sick in your vehicle."
The cabbie relented, and the pirate and Georgina joined forces to cram Annabel inside. Georgina followed, and the cabbie set off, muttering curses in some foreign tongue.
The journey to Hillside Heights Apartments seemed endless. The dead weight of Annabel bounced against Georgina at every turn. The beastly cabbie made it worse by speeding, and on at least two occasions clipping the curb.
For an extra tip, the cabbie agreed to carry Annabel inside. He clamped his hairy arm around her waist and hauled her along. Georgina opened the front door and rushed ahead to press the button for the elevator.
The cabbie propped Annabel against the wall. Then he turned to Georgina, holding out his empty palm. Georgina handed over the fare and the tip. Annabel mumbled to herself, starting to slide down to the floor.
The cabbie gave a disinterested grunt and left. Georgina propped up Annabel and shoved her into the arriving elevator. Upstairs, Georgina rammed her shoulder under Annabel's jaw to free her hands to unlock the door. Together they stumbled through and crashed down, barely missing the hall table.
Annabel murmured something as she lay sprawled on the rug that covered the hardwood. “Who is?"
It was only a couple of whispered words. First Georgina thought it was a question. Then Annabel said it again, and Georgina realized it was a name.
Lewis.
"Who is Lewis?” Georgina asked.
Annabel squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Georgina struggled up. She wedged her hands under the limp arms and dragged the heavy weight along the floor, feeling bewildered.
The once wealthy and privileged Annabel Fairfax was the most serene person Georgina had ever known. Every blow life had dealt her Annabel seemed to have accepted with grace. But Annabel had never spoken about why she had left her husband, and she had never mentioned anyone called Lewis.
Georgina hoisted the inert body onto the spare bed and rolled it under the covers. Then she got herself ready for the night, and settled down to sleep.
In the morning when Georgina woke up, Annabel had already showered and dressed. Her hair and her clothes were immaculate. Breakfast was laid out on the table.
"Thanks for being such a champ last night,” Annabel said with a bright smile. “I don't know what got into me. I don't usually drink too much."
They ate in silence. Annabel had already ordered a cab. During the drive to the bank, they sat in the back and talked about the weather, like two polite strangers.
* * * *
Each day for the rest of the week, Georgina felt her spirits sink. Loneliness. The emotion she'd fought so hard to shut out since her childhood ruled her life.
She had no one ... no family at all ... no siblings, no parents. Not even cousins or uncles and aunts, since both her parents had been only children.
Her maternal grandparents had died without ever really knowing her. Her brief visits had been formal occasions. Afternoon tea sipped in strained silence, in an English country house cluttered with exotic souvenirs that looked out of place. The slow ticking of the grandfather clock in the musty drawing room had been punctuated by questions about how she was doing at school, and other forced attempts at conversation.
Each visit had ended with a stern reminder for Georgina to pray for her dead parents.
Then she had taken the train back home to Grandma Ethel. Postcards had arrived at steady intervals from far-flung corners of the world. Christmases and birthdays, a green van from Harrods department store had delivered a present.
Always something useful. Never anything frivolous or fun.
Then, around the time Georgina went to university, both her maternal grandparents had died in quick succession. Her grandmother had withered away with stomach cancer, and her grandfather had suffered a heart attack soon after, as if unwilling to be left behind.
Their acceptance of Georgina as their beloved grandchild only came posthumously, when she was named the sole heir in their joint will. She spent an aimless week in the quiet country house, trying to somehow get to know them through the miscellany of belongings collected over a lifetime.
In the end she abandoned the effort. The contents were donated to charity and the house sold. She kept nothing, not a single knick-knack, painting, or ornament. Death had colored everything too stark.
It wasn't their money that she had wanted, but their love. Georgina lay on the living room sofa and whimpered in misery, kicking at the blanket that covered her legs.
In her childhood, when she was old enough to walk alone to school, Georgina had played a game. She had wandered around the leafy suburbs of Brighton after lessons, until she spotted a kind looking lady in the right age. Then she followed the lady. She crept closer and closer, until she was close enough to pretend that the lady was her mother, and they were walking home together.
Once she sidled right up, and slipped her fingers into those of a plump woman with cascading red curls and a jolly face covered with freckles. After the woman overcame her surprise, she smiled down at Georgina. Then she gently withdrew her hand and hastened her steps. Georgina stood still and stared after her, blinking back tears, until the woman disappeared into the crowd.
Grandma Ethel was the only person she had ever loved, but Grandma Ethel was gone. Georgina was totally alone.
She had no man, because Rick Matisse didn't want her. She had no friends, because Annabel had turned cool since that night of too much wine at the Squids Inn. She had no children, because she was incapable of attracting a man and acquiring the necessary biological ingredients.
She had no one. The world was a horrible place, and would whoever was ringing the doorbell please go away, so that she could be alone and wallow in her misery.
But the doorbell kept ringing, until she could no longer ignore the persistent buzz. Georgina wiped her nose against her sleeve and scrambled up from the sofa.
This time she halted to line her eye against the spy hole. The distorted shape of Rick Matisse filled the button of glass.
Georgina squeezed her eyes shut. Then she flicked them open and looked again. He remained outside, reaching up to clamp his finger on the doorbell, which erupted into life like an angry hornet.
Hurrying to release the lock, Georgina pulled the door ajar. She faced him through the narrow gap.
"I need to talk to you,” Rick said. “Can I come in for a moment?"
She stepped aside and motioned him through.
The door clicked shut behind him. The sleeveless T-shirt he wore with his jeans exposed the muscles on his arms. He clutched a letter with a torn envelope in his hand, and when he was firmly inside, he shifted his attention from the papers to Georgina.
"Are yo
u all right?” He scrutinized her with his dark eyes.
"No,” Georgina said bluntly. She returned to the living room, where she huddled under the blanket on the sofa. Rick followed her and sat down on the opposite sofa. The intensity of his gaze as he inspected her made her skin prickle. She steeled herself to say something unfriendly, something that would put a lid on his concern, but to her surprise he didn't probe further.
"Did you have something to do with this?” Rick raised his hand with the letter.
"Depends on what it is."
He sprung up to his feet. A coffee table separated the two sofas. He shunted it to one side and crouched down beside her. “It's from the lawyer.” His stern face hovered over hers, barely a foot away. “It's about Angelina's custody case."
"Oh,” Georgina said. “Good news?"
Rick unfolded the letter and stared at it. His mouth tightened. Then his features relaxed. “Yes. It's very good news."
"Congratulations. What does it have to do with me?"
"There's nothing more to pay."
"That's good. Andy told me the lawyers have been bleeding you dry.” The second she'd spoken, Georgina wanted to bite off her tongue. She kept her face blank while her brain raced through the avenues left open for her. She had planned to deny any knowledge, but her careless comment had eliminated that option.
"What did you do?” Rick demanded to know. “If you paid something, I want to pay you back."
"What makes you think I did anything at all?"
"Because when I called to inquire why there was no final bill, they told me to thank my friends at the Pacific Bank."
"Oh.” Georgina hugged her knees, dropping her gaze to the folds of the blanket. She cursed Pendleton for being so indiscreet.
"You'd better level with me,” Rick warned her. “Interrogating people is part of my job. I'll get it out of you in the end. We might just as well get there quickly."
Georgina raised her head. “We'll see about that.” Then another wave of exhaustion dulled her defiance and she slumped back against the cushions. “It's no big deal,” she told him sullenly. “They have a loan with the bank. They were paying too much interest. I arranged to get the rate reduced."
"And for that they put some muscle behind my case and charged me nothing?"
"Half a percent on a loan of four million is twenty thousand a year,” Georgina pointed out. “They were left plenty in pocket."
"You have that kind of influence?” Rick asked sharply.
Georgina shook her head. “I don't do client relations. I manage the wire transfer systems. I had to ask someone else.” She met Rick's stare. “Someone who owed me a favor,” she admitted reluctantly.
Rick folded the letter. “You shouldn't have interfered. It was none of your business."
"Andy asked for my help.” Georgina dropped her voice to a murmur. “I did it for her, not for you."
Rick's arms tensed. Muscles jumped under the tanned skin. “Don't ever do anything like that again. Don't interfere without asking me."
"All right. I'll never help you again. If I see you out in the garden, I'll turn away and ignore you. I won't speak to you, or in any way acknowledge your existence. It that good enough for you?"
"That's not what I meant. I just don't want to be left owing you."
"You don't owe me anything.” Her head hurt, and the blanket did nothing to keep away the chills. “Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired. You can let yourself out. Please don't slam the door when you go."
Rick stood up, towering over her. “You're twisting my words. I was only saying that—"
"Just go,” Georgina told him. “Please. I'm tired."
Rick's face pulled into a scowl. “Have it your way. I didn't come here to pick a fight. I just don't want you to interfere."
"Goodbye.” Georgina turned her back on him and pulled the blanket over her head. She heard the screeching sound as Rick pushed the coffee table back in place.
Then the door slammed.
* * * *
The lassitude developed into a cold that turned her throat into sandpaper and her nose into a furnace. Georgina hid in bed for the rest of the weekend.
What was the point? What was the point of doing anything at all, when everything always went wrong? Even when you helped, people got annoyed with you. She should keep to herself, not even try to relate to other people.
On Monday, by the time Georgina pulled up at Pacific Bank parking lot, she realized it had been a mistake to go in. The short traverse across the lobby felt like a marathon. When she reached her office and powered up her computer, the screen danced in front of her eyes. Remembering her log-on password required an enormous mental effort.
When Annabel arrived, she took one look at Georgina. “What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"I don't know,” Georgina rasped. “I think I have a cold."
Annabel leaned closer. “Have you seen a doctor?"
"A doctor?” Georgina frowned, and then winced at the pain around her eyes. “It's only a cold."
"You should have stayed in bed,” Annabel fussed. “Will you be able to drive home, or should I call a cab?"
"I'll drive.” Georgina reached out to switch off the computer. She barely found the energy to hold her arm up. “Can you cancel my meetings? I have an IT update at two, and the weekly Compliance Review at four."
"Just go.” Annabel ushered her out. “I'll take care of things here."
Georgina's head throbbed by the time she parked in the garage underneath her apartment. As soon as she got upstairs, she stripped out of her work clothes, leaving them in a heap on the bedroom floor. Then she dressed in her drawstring pants and her sweatshirt and crawled under the blanket on the sofa.
Barely a minute later the doorbell went. She ignored it. The buzzing carried on, in short angry bursts that seemed to ring inside her head.
"Georgina!” She heard a muffled voice from the hall.
"Go away,” she shouted. The effort rasped in her throat.
"It's Rick. I know you are in there."
"If you think that's an incentive for me to open the door you're crazy."
"I have a master key. I'm coming in."
Georgina heard the door rattle. Then footsteps crossed the hall.
"You're trespassing,” she shouted out.
"You look like shit,” Rick replied as he strode into the room. “Are you all right?"
"Of course I'm not all right. Your presence is enough to guarantee that."
Rick ignored her. He stepped closer, his face furrowed as he contemplated her. “I saw you drive up."
"So? Is that against the regulations now?"
"You were weaving all over the road. I thought something was wrong."
Georgina sank deeper into the sofa. “I've got a cold. I was dizzy."
Rick shoved the coffee table out of the way and crouched down beside her. “I want to apologize for what I said on Friday night. That you'd interfered. It was unfair."
Georgina gave him a tired shrug. “It doesn't matter."
"It does. What you did was a big help. I'd like to do something to thank you."
"There's no need. I did it for Andy.” She managed a faint smile. “I can't wait to see her face when she tells me her new name."
"Can I at least let her know that you helped?"
"I think she'll figure it out. She pinched one of your letters for me. I'd better give it back to you.” Georgina started to throw off the blanket. Then she remembered her unflattering clothes. “I think it's at work,” she muttered, flopping back down. “I'll give it to you later."
"It's not important.” Rick examined her face. “Are you sure you're all right? Do you need a doctor?"
"All I need is rest.” All of a sudden, Georgina became aware of the lack of distance between them. She could see the tiny black dots on his chin after the morning shave. She looked away, but her eyes instantly drew back. Her throat felt paralyzed. Then her heart almost stopped, when one of his big hands rose and abs
ently stroked her forehead.
"Have you ever been to Coronado Island?” Rick asked her softly.
Georgina tried to reply, but no sound could come past her constricted throat. She just stared at him, shaking her head mutely.
"There's a hotel there. An old mansion. It's a National Historic Landmark. They have a restaurant there that's supposed to be very good. I'd like to take you. Dinner. Or brunch one Sunday morning. Whichever you prefer."
"That would be nice,” Georgina whispered. In her mind, she added a fourth specific condition to Annabel's list of what made up a date.
The man had to ask.
"Dinner,” she murmured. “I'd like dinner."
"I'll see if I can get a reservation for Saturday night. Are you free?"
"Yes.” Georgina said with a miserable sigh. She was free this Saturday. And the next. And every Saturday for the rest of her life, if things didn't change.
Rick stood up. “I'll let you know.” He ran his eyes over her huddled shape. “When Angelina gets home from school, I'll send her up with some hot soup."
Georgina gazed up at him. Her pulse galloped, and her stomach twisted into a tight knot. Rick appeared completely unaffected. She wasn't even sure that he was aware of his affectionate gesture of smoothing her brow. It might have been a reflex action, like comforting his daughter.
"Soup would be nice,” she croaked.
"Good. Call me if you need anything.” He gave her another concerned look before he turned to go.
"Wait,” she called after his retreating back. “What's the dress code at this place? What should I wear?"
He looked over his shoulder. “Wear that little green dress again,” he said.
This time he didn't slam the door.
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Chapter Eight
Five days later, at half past six in the evening, Georgina stood beside Rick in the elevator. Her body tingled and glowed. That was inevitable. Anyone would tingle and glow after having groomed almost to the point of dissolving in the bathwater. Not a single dead cell clung to her pampered skin, and not a single hair marred the smooth expanse of her legs.
Project Seduction Page 10