Piping Her Tune

by Maggie Brown

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business.”

  “You needn’t apologise, Abby. I must seem the proverbial loser in the romance department to you.”

  Abby stifled the urge to stroke her cheek; she hadn’t thought anything she could say could have the power to draw emotion from the confident woman. “No, of course not. I was out of line. You’re entitled to be fussy; you’ve got much more to offer than most people.”

  “Like money?”

  “Is that what you think? Everyone’s after your money?”

  “It’d be a great incentive.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, with that attitude it’s no wonder you’re still single,” muttered Abby, then regretted the words immediately, fearing Victoria would retreat into her shell again.

  But instead she laughed. “Money doesn’t impress you much, does it?”

  “Nope. You can’t make love to dollar notes.”

  A gleam appeared in Victoria’s eyes. “And you would be the expert…?”

  Disconcerted, Abby felt on the back foot. “I’ll meet someone one day.”

  “Like Chantal?”

  Abby tried to appear detached as she answered. “Maybe.”

  “I’d be careful there if I were you. She’s an extremely sophisticated woman and you…well…seem inexperienced to put it mildly. Don’t get too dewy-eyed over her,” said Victoria, a little too sharply.

  They locked gazes and Abby’s heart plummeted as a thought hit. Maybe that was why Vic disliked Chantal and Abby’s friendship. “You want her back, don’t you?”

  “What! No!”

  Abby flashed a sceptical look. “You can’t fool me. You’re cranky every time she rings me.”

  “What Chantal and I had together is way in the past. She’s a friend now, that’s all,” Victoria replied impersonally.

  Abby recognized the shift in tone and assumed one to match. “That’s nice to hear, because she’s my friend too. She’s coming to see me in Hong Kong, by the way. Now I really am tired, so I’m off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  In her room, Abby sank heavily onto the bed. Their conversation had left her heavy-hearted and exhausted. She was no further discovering the real Victoria and she desperately wanted to know what made her boss tick. “I’m torturing myself,” she whispered as her eyes closed, ready for sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Time flew, and before Victoria knew it, their business was concluded. Seated in the lounge, she watched Abby come out of her room. The younger woman had blossomed in the job since they had left Australia. Abby’s command of Japanese had been such an asset and she turned out to be something of a computer whiz; Fiona constantly sang her praises. So far, new sales had exceeded all her expectations, due in no small measure to Abby’s efforts. Victoria grimaced—it was getting harder to keep her distance. She never dreamt they would work so well together. But it wasn’t Abby’s work ethic that intrigued Victoria. She knew she had begun to care for the artist.

  Though they had had such a rocky start, there was no doubt their personalities suited each other, even with their tussles of wills (or perhaps because of them). For once in her life, Victoria wasn’t bored with someone after a few weeks. If anything, she looked forward to seeing Abby every day. And they seemed to be always brushing against each other, which made Victoria increasingly aware of Abby’s body. Tantalizingly sweet, yet elusive. At the fireside at Christmas, Vic had had the strangest desire to take Abby in her arms and assure her that all her dreams for the future would come true. When Abby disappeared to bed, her departure had left Vic feeling slightly bewildered and oddly bereft. She feared that their personal—if somewhat blunt—exchange had pushed Abby away, but the next day Abby had greeted her warmly and even touched her lightly on the arm.

  “Abby, please tell Fiona to come in. I’ve got something to say.” Victoria went to the fridge to uncork the champagne especially bought for the occasion. The Bollinger label twinkled in the light.

  “Come on over here, you two. Let’s celebrate for a job well done. I want to thank you for your efforts. If we do as well in China, we’ll be laughing.”

  They savoured the exquisite taste with appreciation and after two glasses, Abby bounced around with enthusiasm to Madonna’s Vogue. She waved her hands. “Come on. Let’s rock.”

  Victoria didn’t argue. She was ready to let her hair down, and even Fiona allowed herself to be coerced onto the floor. For half an hour they gyrated to tunes that belted out from the audio system. Finally the Scot collapsed into a chair. “That’s enough for me,” she panted. “I’m feeling my age and since it’s my turn to cook, ye won’t be getting any dinner if I go on. And no more alcohol for me.”

  Abby giggled, kicked off the house slippers and stretched out on the low chaise lounge. “That was fun. Well I’m ready to have another drink. It’s about time we had a blow-out.”

  Victoria winked. “You bet. I’ll crack open another one.” She dashed to the bar and then sat on the floor beside the lounge. Bubbles frothed over the rims as she poured the champagne into the flutes. “Bottoms up.”

  Abby tipped up her glass. “Ah—that’s wonderful.”

  Victoria grinned. “It should be. It’s verrry expensive.”

  “How much?”

  “Seven hundred dollars a bottle.”

  Abby eyes widened. “That’s decadent.”

  “We’ve earned it. The company’s a lot richer with our new contracts.”

  Abby stretched out and murmured, “Good. Let’s drink some of the profits.”

  “I hoped you’d say that. I put three bottles in to get cold.”

  “I could live like this,” said Abby as she took another long drink. “We’ve never had any money to have the finer things in life. The champers is great stuff.”

  “Isn’t it just? Nectar of the gods.” Victoria squinted at Abby. She looked adorable with her curls tousled and a shimmering layer of perspiration filmed her soft cheeks. “Have you enjoyed Japan?”

  “Oh, yes. And I love the business side of things.”

  Victoria propped one elbow on the seat to face her. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

  The blue eyes regarded her with appreciation. “You’re great to work for.”

  Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Victoria drained her glass and topped them up again. “You like me now?”

  Abby took a strand of Vic’s hair and twirled it round her fingers. “I’ve never really disliked you, honey. You just have the knack of irritating me sometimes.”

  Victoria’s heart skipped at the endearment. “Bring us another bottle in the ice bucket, Fiona.”

  The Scot frowned her disapproval as she handed it over. “Don’t drink too much.”

  “Don’t be an old fuddy-duddy,’’ Victoria said, and, without a thought, she reached over to lightly stroke the exposed patch of skin on Abby’s stomach. Abby began humming softly and slid closer. They sat gazing into each other’s eyes as they drank on. By the end of the third bottle the stroking had developed into kneading, while Abby massaged Vic’s head firmly.

  Then Fiona was standing over them with a glare on her face. “Ye lassies will be sick in the morning. Either come to the dinner table or go to bed.”

  Abby gave a hiccup. “I think I’ll go to bed. I…hic…have had quite e…e…snuf.”

  * * *

  Abby’s head felt like it was splitting open. She cautiously opened her eyes, then jammed them shut again as the light through the window flashed like an incendiary bomb. She groaned in pain. Her eyes were sore enough as it was, for in her alcoholic stupor she hadn’t taken out her contacts. How much champagne had she consumed? Bits and pieces of the night filtered back into her brain like unwanted flotsam. She wished she were one of those people who forgot what happened, but the few times she’d over-imbibed, she’d remembered every last embarrassing moment.

  With a great deal of caution, Abby edged out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom. The
jets of water made her feel half human again, although her head still pounded. She took out her contacts and put on her glasses; her eyes needed a spell for a while.

  Fiona was in the kitchen eating breakfast as Abby went to the medicine cabinet for some painkillers. The secretary eyed her keenly. “Are you all right?”

  Abby winced. Why did the woman have to talk so loudly? “If you want the honest truth, I feel terrible. I’m usually not much of a drinker,” she whispered. Even her own voice throbbed in her skull.

  “Ye shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

  Abby popped two tablets into her mouth and gulped them down irritably. “You’re not very sympathetic.”

  “Nay. I’ve learnt when the wine goes in, strange things come out.”

  “Did we make fools of ourselves?” asked Abby as she felt her face flush.

  “You and Vic were getting very chummy.”

  “Everyone looks awesome when you’re drinking.” The words were groaned out.

  The Scot’s eyes twinkled. “There’s an old saying, lassie. ‘Wine gives a man nothing—it only puts in motion what has been locked up in the frost.’”

  “Huh!” said Abby unable to think of a suitable reply. She was saved from more conversation with the astute woman by the sound of Victoria coming through the door. She looked as bad as Abby felt.

  “Ye don’t look so good,” said Fiona with a small smile.

  Victoria winced. “I’d be better if I could find a place to bury my liver.” She padded over to the medicine cabinet and searched inside. “Where are the headache tablets?”

  Abby pushed over the packet. “Here.” She stood up with caution. “I’m going back to bed, otherwise I won’t be fit to go out tonight.”

  * * *

  Victoria stared morosely at the toast and wondered if her stomach could take it. She noted Fiona’s frown. “What are you looking at me like that for? It’s only a hangover, not the end of the world.”

  “Ye should be careful how you conduct yourself with Abby.”

  Victoria ran her hand through her hair as she shot a wary glance. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “The poor lamb’s not used to women like you.”

  “Women like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s not worldly or sophisticated like your set. If you continue to carry on like you were doing, she’ll get a crush on you and have her heart broken.”

  Victoria tried not to look as stunned as she felt. Fiona had no idea what was going on. Victoria was liable to be the one hurt, not Abby. “We were merely having a few drinks together to celebrate.”

  “Just be mindful when you’re with her, that’s all I’m saying. You were touching her inappropriately when she didn’t have her wits about her.”

  “I was not.”

  “Yes, you were and you know it. Abby’s not someone you can toy with.”

  Victoria struggled to keep her anger in check. “I don’t toy as you so crudely put it. And she’s a mature woman so doesn’t need your protection.”

  “Unlike you, she seems to be a little guileless in matters of the heart.”

  “Give me a break, Fiona. You sound as though I should have ‘Lock up your precious daughters’ tattooed on my forehead.”

  “Don’t be flippant, Vic. I won’t mention it again but I see things. She’s beginning to like you a lot. It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her.”

  “We were just having fun. Why do you have to make a drama out of everything?”

  “I’m not picking on you and I’ve come to respect you a lot over the years, Vic, and I know you’ve been lonely. But Abby’s employed to work and doesn’t need the extra stress of an emotional entanglement. We have to live closely together for another three and a half months, so just leave her be.”

  Victoria opened her mouth and closed it shut again, aware it was no use arguing. Fiona had obviously taken up the banner to protect Abby’s virtue. She huffed testily and walked outside for some peace. Even though her mind unconsciously registered the beauty of the courtyard, she absorbed the words, “Abby’s beginning to like you a lot.” Her heart performed a little stutter and a flood of desire shot like an arrow straight between her legs. Then a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach, which forced the erotic thoughts of eating an ice-cream sundae off Abby’s bare belly to melt in a puddle of self-pity.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Victoria appeared dressed in a dolce tuxedo, Abby mewed a muffled moan. The coal-black tailored suit with the crisp white shirt and dusty pink vest delivered a new meaning to elegance. And the silver stilettoed shoes were awesome. The effect of raw sensuality left her slightly breathless and off-centre. She gave a nervous blink, aware she stared. “Great outfit,” she murmured.

  Victoria’s silent appraisal was also appreciative, which made Abby pleased she’d found the blue chiffon dress in one of Tokyo’s side street boutiques. As the dark eyes strayed down to the flash of her skin exposed by the low-cut bodice, Fiona made a hushing sound and took Abby’s arm in a firm grip. “Let’s go.”

  Vic was left to trail them out the door.

  They alighted from the limousine outside the Sheraton Hotel; Victoria offered her arms to escort them up the staircase to the foyer. The Scot’s mulish countenance softened only a little at the gesture. Abby wondered why the secretary was so annoyed with her boss. However, she didn’t dwell on the matter as she took in the splendour of the reception room. The magnificent hall was resplendent with plush carpets, chandeliers and dining tables adorned with crisp white cloths and fine silverware. The tables were arranged in a semicircle around a polished dance floor in front of a five-piece band. Through the glass door on the side, the room’s own private garden area displayed a riot of bougainvillea and lilies.

  People mingled in the room while white-gloved waiters moved through offering drinks. Victoria left her associates to greet the guests, dignitaries of the city and company representatives. A half an hour later she signalled to the maître d’ to begin seating. Abby sat between the Deputy Chairman of Nippon Steel and the curator of the National Museum of Western Art, while Victoria had chosen to sit with the Lord Mayor and his wife at the far end of the table. The Japan banquet was a sumptuous affair, with culinary delicacies to die for. A bevy of different wines was served with each course, or if the guests preferred, dry sake served cold. Abby’s dinner companions were well versed in world affairs, and to her delight, were familiar with her paintings. The bombshell came as she was finishing the last crumb of her chocolate torte.

  “Would you be interested in doing a series of three large paintings for our Nippon head office block in Tokyo, Ms Benton?”

  Abby looked quickly at Akio Fujimori and wondered if she had heard him correctly. The grey-haired gentleman gazed at her quizzically. She provided a half smile to indicate her interest. “They’d have to be themed, presumably? Japanese or Western style?”

  He bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Ah, you are one to come to the point immediately. Good. I have chosen wisely. Could you incorporate both in the panels?”

  Abby eyed him thoughtfully, designs already flashing through her brain. “I don’t think that would be too difficult, and since there’ll be three paintings perhaps the last could be a combination of both—a merging of the traditional arts. It would be a fascinating concept.”

  “You would think seriously of accepting the commission? We are prepared to pay a hundred thousand dollars for the works.”

  “I would be extremely interested but unfortunately I am committed to Orianis Minerals for the next three to four months.”

  Akio bowed his head. “That wouldn’t be a problem. The building is in the middle of renovations so there is no need to start immediately. Perhaps in the next few months you could send us some conceptual drawings.”

  “I will confirm my acceptance by the end of the week after you furnish me with the details of the size, etc.” She placed her hand on his in a gesture of fri
endship. “And thank you, Mr Fujimori, for the opportunity.”

  “My name is Akio and I would be honoured if you would use it. Come, the band has started to play. Would you care to dance?”

  Abby smiled shyly. “Please call me Abby and I would be delighted.”

  Happy, she tucked away thoughts of the unexpected commission to concentrate on enjoying the night. By midnight her feet began to ache—she hadn’t danced so much in years. On a break, she saw Victoria make her way through the crowd towards her. Vic bowed and held out her hand. “Would you do me the honour?”

  Abby looked at her in surprise. Was it acceptable for two women to dance formally together in Japan? She didn’t have a clue. And she had never danced ballroom style with a woman before, let alone in a foreign country in front of so many people. It was a far cry from the usual scene at parties at home, where the music was invariably loud, fast and anyone still breathing could join in the action, with or without a partner. But Victoria looked composed, entirely in command. So she put her hand in hers and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor.

  Their bodies moved together with little effort. Victoria guided with such grace Abby felt as if she were floating. They danced sedately apart for a while and gradually edged together. She became lost in the warmth of the body against her, feeling protected in the curve of the arms that hugged her close. They glided across the floor as Victoria steered her towards the door to the garden. Outside it was much darker, only lit by shafts of light that glowed out through the glass partitions and from the streetlamps on the pavements. Neon lights twinkled like stars in the background.

  They were alone in the garden. Still joined together, Victoria gently allowed her hands to rest on Abby’s waist. She pulled her closer. As Victoria’s lips dipped to brush across her neck, Abby felt an ache of desire down to the tips of her toes. She squeezed against her, feeling a pleasant tingle as her breasts nestled into Vic’s waistcoat. Without a thought she squirmed against the fabric to create friction on her nipples. Caught up, it was so easy to imagine they really were lovers. Victoria pulled her even tighter and Abby whimpered. She could hear her heartbeat thump faster and shivered as puffs of hot breath softly blew in her ear.