by Cathy Pegau
Then he leaned forward and kissed me, a spur-of-the-moment peck that brought our lips together. The electric zing that passed between us took my breath, and I gasped as I jerked my head away. But it wasn’t fast enough to keep barely suppressed memories from flooding my brain.
My heart raced as I remembered the taste of Tonio’s kisses. My skin tingled recalling how his body felt against mine. How he felt inside me. And with gut-clenching clarity, I realized how much I missed the trust, the connection two people could have.
Tonio’s brown eyes were wide with surprise, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done. Then surprise softened to something else. “Liv,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
Oh God. Hadn’t we just agreed this morning—albeit, nonverbally—that this wouldn’t happen? Where was my willpower? My determination not to let our libidos get in the way?
His scent infused my senses, obliterating any more questions, as his mouth came down on mine. Unable—or unwilling—to do anything else, I flicked my tongue against his, tasting coffee and heat. He moaned. My fingers flexed, twisting the material of his shirt sleeve, and I drew him closer. His hand slid up my thigh to my hip. The kiss deepened as our tongues twined. Familiar stirrings coursed through me. It was better than I remembered, but was that my heart talking or someplace farther down?
The little voice inside my head screamed this was a bad idea as my own moan of pleasure vibrated in my throat.
Tonio’s hand moved from my hip to cup my cheek. His thumb caressed my skin. “Amante,” he murmured against my mouth.
Lover.
A term of endearment that had, at one time, drawn me to his bed. That had, more recently, reminded me if he’d loved me so much, why had he left?
This had already gone further than it should have. My body ached for him, but my head and my heart couldn’t see us being together beyond the end of the job. Even a consensual, no-strings-attached tumble was a bad idea because that would damage the one thing I knew I did want from Tonio: His friendship.
Exactly! The voice in my head cut through the haze of need with a deafening cry.
Jerking back, I broke the kiss. “We can’t.” I slid away from his touch and stumbled to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to try to stop the quivers in my stomach.
Tonio’s hands fisted then opened flat on his thighs. His dark brows furrowed together, desire and confusion in his eyes. After a few moments of staring at each other, he leaned back against the couch, frustration replacing desire.
He raked a hand through his hair as he blew out a deep breath. “I know.”
I made a confused frown of my own. “Then why did you kiss me?”
“Because you wanted it.” True. But before I could protest, his mouth curved into a rueful smile. “Because I wanted it.”
“Well, that was obvious.” I moved to put the couch between us. “We can’t do this again, Tonio,” I said firmly, “not if we’re going to do this job right.”
By “right” I meant without any complications of personal feelings. We cared for each other, there was no changing that, but it didn’t go any further. Not on my end at least, and anything more would risk the job.
He crossed the room to the closet. Reaching in for his black leather jacket, he shrugged into it. “I won’t lie to you, Liv,” he said over his shoulder. “I’d love to carry you into that bedroom right now and make you forget any protests you might have. I could do it.”
Arrogant bastard. But he was right. My body buzzed at the idea of what we’d do. I swallowed hard and jabbed my fingertips into my sides, hoping to douse desire with pain. It didn’t help.
Be strong, Liv. Be strong.
“But I won’t,” he continued as he walked to the door. “Because like you said, it would just mess things up.” He gave me the most forlorn, sexually frustrated look I’d ever seen on a man. Good, it wasn’t just me. I hoped my own forlorn, sexually frustrated expression was hidden better than that. “So before we do something we’ll regret, I’m going for a walk. Call in something for dinner, will you?”
He left the flat.
I stood still for a few moments more, willing the shakes of unfulfilled need to subside. They didn’t. Growling at my physical and mental state, I stalked into the lav for a quenching shower. For a fleeting moment I considered taking care of things myself in a warm bath, but just as quickly rejected the idea. Associating Tonio, sexual frustration and subsequent relief, even by my own hand, was not a good precedent to set.
A cold shower it would be.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, my chrono alarm went off at 0600, well before I needed to report to Exeter. Such feminine activities as hair and makeup added more time to my routine than the average girl probably required, even with the practice I’d had before coming to Pandalus. But the extra care was worth it.
The young professional staring back at me from my bedroom mirror was damn hot. Shiny, sassy hair. Smooth coffee-with-cream skin. Sultry, dark eyes. Camouflaging the kink in my nose would have been impossible, so I didn’t bother trying. Besides, it gave my face character.
An ivory lace camisole beneath a dark blue collarless jacket and a matching skirt that just touched the tops of my knees projected sensibility with a hint of sexy. I wasn’t a curvy woman, but the fitted jacket and slender skirt made me feel like one.
“Look out, R. J. Talbot.” I slipped on low-heeled shoes and went to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee.
Tonio had stumbled in late last night, the noise waking me up long enough to determine he was alive. He wasn’t conscious yet, and I resisted the urge to slam cabinet doors while singing at the top of my lungs. There were times I could be a grown-up. I brewed the coffee, drank a cup while reviewing my Exeter and Talbot data and packed my satchel with all the workday necessities.
It crossed my mind to leave Tonio a note, but I decided against it. What was there to say? How about your chicken dish for dinner tonight, but without the side of frustration? Sorry we kissed, see you after work? Coffee’s in the warmer, hope you don’t wake up with too bad a hangover or one of the new deadlier strains of an STD?
Refusing to let thoughts of where he’d been last night get the better of me, I was almost at the door with my satchel and coat when Tonio shuffled out of his bedroom. Tousled dark hair and the scruff of whiskers on his cheeks made him look like a rogue from a historical drama vid. A light robe covered his broad shoulders and chest. I forced my gaze away from those damned blue-striped pajama bottoms. I’d been right about his just-woke-up sexiness, but a waft of stale smoke and alcohol killed any spark of desire that may have lingered from yesterday.
“Morning, sleepy head,” I said with a grin.
He gave me a slow once-over. “Wow.”
My body warmed, but I didn’t react to him otherwise. Good girl.
His dark, red-rimmed eyes met mine. “You look amazing.”
Damn right I do, I thought with an inner smirk. And you? You get none of it. But I said, “Thank you. Tell Willem we’ll comm when I get back. See you later.”
“Have a good day,” he said hoarsely as I breezed past him.
The door shut behind me and I stood in the clean, bright hall for a moment to catch my breath. That had been easier than I’d feared. If the rest of the job went as well, we’d all be fifty-million credits richer in no time.
Crisp, clear early winter air made my cheeks tingle as I stepped out of the building and shrugged into my coat. On the street, ground cars hummed by, and pedestrians passed me going in both directions on the walkway. Megascrapers created vast canyons of steel and plasti-glass. Air cars weren’t permitted in such tight corridors, and the sky beyond the rooftops was an uninterrupted crystalline blue. A beautiful day to walk to the nearest PubTrans station a block away.
A tall, blond man in a long coat walked toward me, speaking on a headset while tapping his handheld, oblivious to everything else around him. We drew closer along the crowded walkway, but ther
e was little room to maneuver to avoid a crash. At the last moment he paused in his tapping to lay a gentle hand on my shoulder and guide our dance of the near miss. Instinctively I grasped the soft wool of his coat sleeve as we pivoted around each other. Our eyes caught. Still talking into his comm, his gaze flicked down my body and back up to my face. He winked, and a surge of pleasure shot through my chest.
I smiled at him before turning toward the station, my step a bit springier and my confidence high. Yes, R. J. Talbot would have a tough time ignoring me.
The whirs and rumbles of traffic muted when the main doors of the building closed behind me. The marble-and-brass lobby of Exeter’s two-hundred-story headquarters was subdued, as if a certain degree of awe were expected. Holo displays of Nevarro’s mining operation history strategically funneled visitors to the reception desk. Cases along the walls held numerous industry awards for excellence in environmental and business practices.
Bully for them.
I wondered how many more awards for excellence Exeter would receive if they didn’t cough up the two hundred million we’d be asking for and the CMA learned of their technology stinginess. Between the other companies being deprived of safety technology and the Mining Authority not getting its cut of taxable assets, Exeter would be considered less than excellent for a while.
Two men wearing black-and-grey guard uniforms, complete with shiny badges, sat at the semicircular security-slash-reception desk. I assumed they were armed even though I couldn’t see weapons. They spoke softly to one another, their faces set in professional wariness as I approached.
“Good morning,” I said with a smile. “My name is Olivia Baines. I’m R. J. Talbot’s new assistant.”
The man on the right worked the board in front of him, peered intently at his screen and peered more intently at me. I didn’t let my smile slip but couldn’t help the little quiver that ran through my gut. Was there a problem already?
Looking back at the screen, the guard tapped another icon and the SI unit beeped. “Place your hand there, please,” he said, gesturing toward the flat, black square imbedded in the top of the desk.
The screen glowed amber for a few moments as it scanned my handprint then went black again. Another beep from the SI. I moved my hand.
“Stand still and look at the E over my shoulder, please.”
Why? Was it going to do tricks, or was this the lamest eye test on the planet? The brass E behind the desk was about a meter tall.
“What’s so spe—”
“Don’t talk, please,” he instructed.
I shut my mouth and there was another beep.
The guard grunted and stared at the area near his hip. No one spoke as clicks and beeps sounded. After a few moments he attached a green lanyard to a six-centimeter by ten-centimeter plastic card. “Use the elevator on your left and wave the badge over the control box. It’ll only allow you to go where you have clearance. HR is expecting you.”
I took the badge from him. It had an alphanumeric code and my face on it. The E housed a camera, and probably an iris scanner. Clever. Somewhere in the thin layers of the plastic badge was a chip that held all the information Exeter knew about me. Or what they thought they knew.
“Thank you,” I said and walked to the elevator. The guards resumed their quiet conversation.
The black square box was flush against the wall beside the brushed steel elevator doors. I waved my badge and after a minute the doors opened.
“Good morning, Miss Baines,” the elevator said in a pleasant, feminine soprano.
I stepped inside the carpeted car and looked for speakers or buttons. A plastic bubble in the rear corner of the ceiling probably held a camera. Light paneling covered the walls except for a digital display that read G for “Ground floor.”
“Um. Good morning.”
“Department or floor, please,” the elevator requested. The doors whispered shut.
“Human Resources. Please.” Being polite to the elevator seemed like a good idea. Any mechanism that could plunge you to your death deserved a certain amount of respect.
I felt a slight shimmer and the digital display changed from G to one, then two, then three. The car stopped and the doors opened.
“Human Resources is down the hall, fifty meters on the right,” the elevator informed me. “Have a nice day.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said as I stepped off.
The doors closed silently.
Cool-green carpet muted my footsteps as I walked the fifty meters to a wooden door with a brass plaque that read, not surprisingly, Human Resources. I turned the latch and went in.
The woman sitting at the first desk tapped on a holo keyboard projected on the desktop while she stared at a paper-thin monitor on the wall at her eye level. “Can I help you?” she asked without looking up.
“Hi. I’m a new hire. Security sent me up.”
She continued tapping with one hand and held the other palm up. “Badge, please.”
I handed her the plastic card. She swiped it over a black box on her desk and returned it. While she tapped some more, I glanced around the small office space. There were several more desks and worker drones beyond hers, each tap-tap-tapping along. Willem had said they’d gained access to the HR department. I wondered if someone else was working for him.
“Here you go, Miss Baines.”
I brought my attention back to the woman. She was now making eye contact, if not smiling. In her hand was a blue data stick.
“Emergency contact, company policy and non-disclosure forms,” she said. “Fill them out, thumb the screen to accept and have Miss Talbot thumb the files before the end of the day. Remind her she can’t terminate until we finish startup procedures. Not like last time.”
I hoped the clerk was joking, but there was no gleam of “Let’s tease the newbie” in her eyes. Chaz had said Talbot was a hard-ass. Swallowing a question about what, exactly, had happened last time, I took the stick. “Thank you.”
She nodded and returned to her tapping as if I’d never arrived.
At the polite elevator, I waved my badge over the screen and asked to be taken to R. J. Talbot’s office when the doors opened.
“One hundred thirty-fifth floor,” it told me.
That seemed a little low down in a two-hundred-story megascraper for a vice president. “Where is the Research and Development Department?” I asked.
“The R and D laboratories occupy floors one hundred twenty-three through one hundred thirty-two. R and D administration can be found on floors one hundred thirty-three through one hundred thirty-five.”
So Talbot stayed close to the action. Hopefully she wasn’t too much of a micromanager. That would make my job difficult.
The ride up to the one hundred thirty-fifth floor took a little longer than the ride to the third, but not by much. The displayed numbers rose steadily then slowed as the elevator reached its destination. I didn’t even feel it move.
“One hundred thirty-fifth floor, Miss Baines. Miss Talbot’s office is on the left. Have a nice day.”
The elevator doors slid open onto a long hall carpeted in deep red and paneled in warm wood tones. Three doors lined the hall on the right, and only one interrupted the wall on the left.
“Thanks,” I said as I exited the car.
My shoes made no sound on the thick carpet as I read the names on the other doors I passed. Michael Craig, Associate VP of Research Integrity. Naomi Thurston, Associate VP of Development Programs. This close to the VP, they’d be important enough to keep tabs on.
The door at the far end had no brass plaque or even a sign tacked to it. Was it the broom closet? A lav? I guess I’d find out eventually.
At Talbot’s door, I slipped out of my coat and readjusted the satchel on my shoulder. I tried to depress the latch. It didn’t move. Hmmm. I waved my badge at the blank screen beside the door, and it clicked. Chances were some kind of time-personnel stamp noted when the doors and elevators were used and by whom.
Talbot’s outer office had more of the rich red carpet, but darker paneling covered the walls. A large desk dominated the space, and there were four cushioned chairs and a low table off to the side. Three doors led from the room. One was ajar, with an even-toned female voice coming from the inner office beyond it. I recognized Talbot’s alto from the files I’d studied. The conversation sounded one-sided; the new boss was on the comm or talking to herself.
The multiple trills of ignored comm alerts came from the direction of the desk and the SI unit there. Why wasn’t the auto-answer program picking up?
You are the answer program now, I reminded myself.
Right. I crossed to the desk. A state-of-the-art SI-6 was lit like a Founders’ Day fireworks display, and the insistent trills corresponded to three blinking red lights on the screen. A fourth light held at a steady green glow. Talbot was talking to someone important enough to snub the other callers.
Dropping my satchel on the floor, I draped my coat over the back of the chair and grabbed the headset. I touched the “Audio Only” icon beside the first call flashing on the screen as I fit the earpiece into my left ear. “Miss Talbot’s office, please hold.”
Not waiting for an answer, I hit the “Hold” icon and moved on to the next caller, repeating the process two more times until the trilling stopped. Sitting down, I checked the names on the screen. The line Talbot was using was marked “Private.” The Chief Engineer waited on line two, the director of contracts on three, and the name of Exeter’s Chief Operating Officer blinked in silent impatience at me from line four.
Oops. I opened his line first. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Clemens. How can I help you?”
“Who is this?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Oh, boy. Mr. Happy.
“Olivia Baines, sir. Miss Talbot’s new assistant.”
“Where’s Talbot?”
A quick glance toward the inner office showed only the corner of Talbot’s black lacquered desk and some white wall. Had she even noticed the annoying trilling had stopped?
“She’s on another call at the moment, sir. Can I take a message, or would you prefer to leave one in her comm folder?”
