The Blue Link (RUSH, Inc. Book 1)

by Carol Caiton

  "Just yes or no, Nina. If I ask you to have dinner with me tomorrow will you turn me down again?"

  She waited for the foot traffic around them to disperse and glued on the smile he wanted. "I'm not going to talk about this here," she insisted.

  Catching a glimpse of Checkpoint 1 through the trees, she quickened her pace. Yes, she would have turned him down again. But she refused to smile while telling him that. She might not have any experience at rejecting someone, but she wouldn't wear a smile while doing so. And, she decided, considering the mood he was in, they'd end up causing another scene. She wondered what had brought it on. All week long he'd been pleasant and courteous. Now, all that male aggression was in evidence again, pressing her for things she didn't want to give.

  "Tell me about my competition," he demanded unexpectedly.

  She stopped walking. "What?"

  "My competition." He halted in front of her. "If it's not Ethan, then I'm assuming he's someone you knew before coming to RUSH."

  Her heart gave a crazy leap. He thought he had it all figured out.

  Skirting around him, she started walking again.

  "Is he someone you used to work with?"

  She walked faster. But of course he had no trouble keeping up. And now, not only her arm ached. The muscles in both calves were contracting.

  "How long have you known him?" he went on, his tone maddeningly pleasant.

  Just a little farther.

  "Nina." He latched onto her arm, breaking her momentum, and pulled her to a stop.

  She stumbled, gasped, then righted herself, conscious of his fingers around her elbow, steadying her. Ironically, she'd made it to the checkpoint intersection. The building stood a mere ten yards away. But it might as well have been fifty.

  She didn't want to argue with him. She just wanted to go home. She wanted something to eat. She wanted to take her time getting dressed. Then she wanted to find Ethan so she could show him the beautiful gown and thank him.

  Simon, however, wasn't ready to let her go. "Nina—"

  Smile cemented in place, she interrupted him. "Why are you doing this?"

  His hold on her arm eased. He smoothed his thumb over her skin and lowered his voice. "Because you won't talk to me anywhere else."

  "No. That's not what I meant. Why are you doing this—still pursuing me after . . . after . . . ." The words died on her lips.

  "Because," he said softly, his aggression no longer in evidence, "I'm fighting for my future."

  * * *

  From his office inside Security Central Ethan observed Nina cross the stage and approach the runway. Not a single monitor out in Control was running video of this venue at this time. He'd already taken care of it.

  Adjusting the angle of the camera, he zoomed in and watched as she began her stroll, head held high, shoulders straight. Lord, she was beautiful . . . small and beautiful and he ached inside just looking at her. He'd had to jump through a dozen hoops to procure that gown and it had been worth every penny. The fabric shimmered. Each fold of glossy silk caught the light as she moved. Where it hugged her curves it was as though every fiber craved the touch of her skin.

  She would have guessed by now that he'd had it made for her, which was why he didn't plan on returning home until after she left for the evening. He didn't want to give her a chance to argue with him about it. Stubborn as she was, she'd probably refuse to wear it and there was no way he'd let her attend a Davidson, Davidson & Bligh affair without the ammunition to hold her own. Not in that sea of diamonds and glitz. She might think it was nothing more than a company Christmas party but he knew better. Even the front desk receptionist wouldn't be caught wearing something that hadn't cost three paychecks.

  So he'd had Doreen put her on the runway. Through the lens of a camera would be the only opportunity he'd have to see her glow in her party dress. And though he shouldn't be surprised, she took his breath away.

  In actuality, he knew more about Davidson, Davidson & Bligh than Nina would learn if she spent the rest of her life working for them. Michael had done a thorough job on that one, digging so deep, the report he turned over to Malcolm had amounted to nearly three hundred pages. Everyone, after all, had something to hide. Right?

  Wrong.

  Not a single skeleton turned up. Not on the partners, not on their wives, and not on any of their immediate family members. Nothing. Michael had taken it back to the middle of the last century and if there had been anything to uncover he would have found it. But every last one of them had turned up lily-white.

  What manner of people came up looking like God's angels on paper?

  He answered his own question: Right-wing fundamentalists. The kind of people who wouldn't touch RUSH with a mile-long pole. And that being the case, he couldn't figure out why he and the younger Davidson partner, Phillip, had been in attendance at the same political fund-raiser last year. How the hell could he and Phillip Davidson have similar political views? Odder still, after observing the man and his wife during the course of the evening, Ethan thought he would have liked him, liked them both, had circumstances been different.

  All three partners came from money. Very old money. Probably brought it over with them on the Mayflower. He'd never seen the elder Davidson, or Andrew Bligh, in person, nor did he particularly want to. On television the older man personified upper crust formality. Very composed. Very correct. And accustomed to wealth. Not that Ethan had anything against money. He was rolling in it himself thanks to his grandmother's investments while he'd been young and troublesome. But there was no mistaking that innate quality of good breeding and fine manners that set some people apart from the rest of humanity.

  These were the people Nina would be mingling with tonight. And she didn't know it, but she'd be on trial. Granted, his own personal prejudices might be the guiding force here, but people who were that image-conscious would be watching her, evaluating and judging her appearance, her conduct, her social etiquette . . . . Job skills notwithstanding, if she didn't measure up, they'd find a reason to let her go.

  He watched as she approached the end of the runway, his eyes following the provocative show of a long slender leg through the slit that began at the top of her thigh. When she turned, retracing her steps back to the stage, he waited until she disappeared from view before he logged off, stood up, and stretched.

  There was plenty here at RUSH to keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon so he might as well grab something to eat and head over to the Moon Orchid Spa.

  He made it no farther than the control room. He wasn't personally familiar with most of the weekend staff. Not the way he was with his own. So he paused to talk with the guards assigned to the monitors, listening to the ideas they bounced back and forth. He reminded them of the suggestion box and the bonus awards for any proposals that were put into practice.

  Half an hour later he started for the elevator, eyes skimming the various monitors as he passed. Unexpectedly he caught sight of Nina, Simon at her side. He had assumed she'd be gone by now.

  Muttering a quiet curse, he stopped and watched. In one hand she carried a white garment bag, in the other whatever accessories she'd chosen to compliment the gown. A fleeting moment of satisfaction warmed him. Then he narrowed his eyes and focused on her face, watching for signs of the pretense she claimed to act out for the benefit of anyone watching.

  What he saw however was a smile, too soft and serene to be anything but genuine. Simon spoke as they walked, his stern features relaxed and even. A minute later he spoke again. They cleared the mall and it occurred to Ethan that Nina hadn't responded. She hadn't said anything at all.

  Giving her his full attention, he noticed the pace of her stride—short, quick steps. Too quick. She was in a hurry.

  He focused on her face again, on the contented smile still in place. As far as he could tell, her smile hadn't wavered. Her expression remained fixed and unchanging.

  He watched as she came closer to the camera and he was able, for just
a few seconds, to see her eyes—eyes he knew well enough to discern pleasure in their depths had there been any pleasure to discern.

  But they didn't match the smile. What he saw instead appeared to be concentration, as though her mind was fixed on a particular goal to be met. Obviously she was headed home, but why the hurry? Could it be that tonight's affair included dinner? Had that four o'clock fitting cut things too close for her?

  As she and Simon approached the turnoff, not far from where he stood, he marveled at the hand of fate. Had he not glanced at this particular monitor on his way out, he would have exited the building oblivious to their approach, and all three of them would have come face to face.

  Fortunately that hadn't happened. He no more wanted Simon to be aware of his presence on property than he did Nina. In fact, he hadn't expected Simon to show up at all. Martin and Phoebe Yetzer had flown in from Germany this morning and all three of them usually spent the day together, culminating in dinner. Apparently their routine had changed with this visit. At least Nina hadn't been inside the R-link complex when he'd arrived.

  In just a few minutes, she'd clear the checkpoint. Simon would be on his way and it would be safe to exit the building without a surprise encounter. The tension in his shoulders began to ease. Then Simon reached out, grabbed Nina's arm, and dragged her to a stop.

  She stumbled, struggling for balance, and thoughts of stealth and evasion were forgotten. Long strides carried him past the elevator to the stairs. Adrenaline coursed though his system and he wondered if it was protectiveness that drove him now or if his feelings for her had progressed to include possession.

  At the bottom of the stairs he caught himself before erupting into the checkpoint. Causing alarm was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd end up with an entourage of guards and a bunch of curious onlookers at his heels. And if he wasn't careful, his own damned vitals would spike high enough to bring them on anyway.

  Tempering his aggression, he made it through the checkpoint without drawing attention to himself then paced his stride down the path. When Simon came into view, no longer holding onto Nina, it was easier to draw a full breath and pull his anger back under control.

  Relaxing his stride yet again, he continued forward. When Simon looked up however and saw who approached, Ethan was surprised by the level of hostility glaring back at him. What the hell had he interrupted?

  Nina either sensed or saw the animosity as well. She looked over her shoulder, saw him, and froze.

  "Ready to go?" he asked as though they'd driven in together and planned to leave the same way.

  She blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it again. She shifted her glance to Simon, then back to him and he'd swear it was panic he saw in her eyes.

  "I'll drive her home," Simon ground out, issuing an unmistakable challenge.

  Ethan gave him a considering look, then met the challenge. No way in hell am I going to let you drive her home, he vowed silently.

  He took a step forward, focused on his target, and closed both hands into fists.

  * * *

  Without a thought for her own safety, Nina shouldered her way between them, catching both men by surprise. She forced Ethan back with her elbow, and it wasn't panic that ruled her actions. It was anger. Today was Saturday for heaven's sake. They were standing out on the main path at the checkpoint intersection in clear view of everyone arriving or leaving the premises.

  "Stop it!" she told them in a furious whisper. "Both of you! We are not going to do this."

  She whirled around to face Ethan and shoved the garment bag against his chest. "Take this and be quiet."

  Then she turned back to Simon and softened her tone. "Thank you for the offer, but I drove my own car here. And I really do have to go or I'll be late."

  Smile glued in place again, she seized hold of Ethan's arm and tugged. "Let's go."

  To her dismay however, the only thing that moved was the sleeve of his jacket. A foot taller than she, if he didn't want to budge, he wasn't going to.

  "Let's go!" She tugged again. If she didn't get him out of here they'd be scrubbing blood off the sidewalk.

  This time, surprising her, he took his eyes off Simon and turned that hard dark gaze on her.

  She paused.

  But he gave a short, terse nod and when she pulled on his arm for the third time, he allowed her to drag him up the path to the checkpoint. What on earth was he doing here?

  Unfortunately, since other guests happened to be leaving as well, she wasn't able to ask that question until they reached the upper level of the parking garage. Stopping beside her car, she dug her keys out of her purse and focused on keeping her voice down. "I thought you were going home to watch TV."

  He didn't answer. Instead, he took the keys from her hand, opened the car door for her, then rested one forearm on the frame. Anger still emanated off him like an aura. "What the hell did I interrupt between you and Simon?"

  She looked into his eyes. Still cold. Still hard. He and Simon had nearly gone for each other's throats right there on the path, right in front of Security Central and all of RUSH, and he wanted to know why.

  "Can you wait until we get home to talk about this?"

  "No."

  "Ethan," she told him softly, "it's private. I don't want to talk about it in the middle of a parking garage. Please."

  He regarded her in silence, his eyes boring into hers. Finally he said, "I'll be right behind you." Then he slung her beautiful gown over one shoulder, turned on his heel, and walked away.

  Disheartened, she stared after him and thought of another night when the same thing had almost happened and he and Simon both had followed her home.

  They couldn't keep on like this. None of them. Ethan and Simon were like two volcanoes and sooner or later one was going to blow and nothing in its path would ever be the same. Including RUSH.

  Sighing, she leaned across the driver's seat to deposit her shopping bag onto the passenger side and climbed in. Sliding her key into the ignition, it didn't surprise her to look up and see Ethan's car in the rear-view mirror. And true to his word, the Audi followed her all the way back to Isleworth.

  The garage door glided open as she turned into the driveway and she drove right inside though she'd be leaving again in a couple of hours. By the time she gathered her purse, the shopping bag, and pulled her key out of the ignition, Ethan was striding toward her, garment bag in hand.

  She looked up when he held the door for her. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  The anger he could barely restrain back at RUSH was still there behind the courtesy and she resigned herself to a difficult discussion.

  "Let's go," he said, then waited for her to precede him into the kitchen where he slipped all three hangers through one of the upper cabinet door handles. Then he turned and said, "All right, we're home."

  Buying a few precious seconds, she walked around the breakfast bar and draped her jacket over the back of a barstool. Then she slid up onto the seat, folded her hands on the granite counter, and drew a resigned breath. "I ran into Simon on the way to my car. He asked me to have dinner with him and when I told him I had plans for the evening, he assumed I meant I had a date. He already suspects that I . . . that I have feeling for someone else, and he began asking questions that would have caused another disaster if we'd gotten into an argument. So I didn't answer him. I just kept walking." She looked down at her hands then back up again. "He stopped me at the checkpoint and I probably should have handled things differently but . . . I didn't."

  She stopped talking. Ethan could bully her for the rest of the afternoon but she wasn't going to tell him Simon was fighting for his future. Sharing that would be a betrayal of something intensely personal. So she appealed to his understanding instead. "It was a private conversation, Ethan."

  "He wants you back."

  She didn't answer.

  "What did you tell him?"

  "I didn't tell him anything. You showed up and all I could think abo
ut was separating you before we caused another scene. What were you doing there? You were supposed to be here watching TV."

  "I got tied up."

  It was a short, clipped response that offered nothing, and he wasn't going to let her deter him. "What would you have said if I hadn't shown up?" He planted both hands on the counter. His eyes held hers, still hard, still angry.

  "God, Ethan! I didn't want to have this conversation then and I don't want to have it now."

  "What would you have said, Nina? What is it you want?"

  "I don't know! I don't know anything anymore. I don't know what to think, I don't know what to feel . . . . Every time I start to make sense of things they get all scrambled up! Simon wants me, then he doesn't want me, then he wants me again . . . and the man I . . . the man I care about wants me, then he doesn't want me—"

  "Oh, he wants you."

  She stared.

  "He wants you more than you can imagine."

  "But—"

  "But he can't have you."

  Hope—so acute she could scarcely think—swept away everything else. Afraid to move, afraid to even blink, she managed one word. "Why?"

  "Rules and regulations for starters. Partnerships. Trust." He pushed away from the counter. "Ethics. Investments. Friendships. Complications. RUSH. You name it."

  "But—"

  "No."

  "But—"

  "No, Nina." He nodded toward the garment bag and softened his tone. "Tell me how you like your dress."

  Incredulous, she just looked at him. How could he tell her he wanted her, more than she could imagine, then expect her to act as though he'd commented on the weather?

  "Ethan?"

  "How do you like the dress, Nina?"

  "Ethan!"

  "How do you like the damned dress?"

  She bounded up off the barstool. "I love the damned dress. I love that you had it made for me!"

  "Good. That's what I wanted to hear. Does your party tonight include dinner?"

  "Does it—? No!"

  "Then sit back down and I'll heat up whatever Mrs. Deggens left for us."