Kane, Andrea

by Scent of Danger

  "Wait a minute." Sabrina waved her hand in disbelief. "You're saying my mother came to the hospital specifically to visit you?"

  "Uh-huh. Helped me get through my first few minutes alone... after Susan left... Stan had told us about Russ.... Gloria's a wise, compassionate woman.... And if you're wondering why she didn't clue you in to the fact that she was coming... it's because she knew you had your first day at Ruisseau on your mind.... She didn't want to add to your stress.... She plans on telling you about our talk.... I just happened to see you first.... She said, if that happened, I was welcome to fill you in."

  "I see." Sabrina wasn't sure she did. "What did you two talk about?"

  Carson snorted. "That's a stupid question."

  "I'll rephrase. What in particular about me did you discuss?"

  "Let's just say that Gloria gave me a lesson... in fatherhood. She also told me she supported... what I had in mind for you. That meant a great deal... to me." He shifted impatiently. "Now tell me about Ruisseau... , Who did you meet? What were your impressions?"

  Sabrina continued to eye him. "You're not going to elaborate, are you?"

  "Nope. But you are. Get out those notes... and start talking."

  With a sigh, she complied, telling herself she'd worm the details out of her mother later, wondering at the same time if she would. She had a sneaky suspicion that much of this heart-to-heart between her mother and Carson would remain private.

  Odd, having two parents looking out for your welfare rather than one.

  "Did Stan take you around?" Carson pressed.

  "He was terrific," Sabrina assured him. "In between my meetings, he took me from office to office, and cubicle to cubicle. He introduced me to everyone from the VPs to the cleaning staff. I started with Marie, whom I thanked profusely for making my new apartment feel like a home. Incidentally, she's the most efficient, insightful assistant I've ever come across. And talk about multitasking—wow. Be good to her; you won't find another like her."

  "Gotcha. What else?"

  "Rita Whiting. She and I really hit it off. We tossed around some pretty wild marketing ideas. The energy in that office could've blown up a tanker."

  Carson chuckled. "I knew you two would be on the same wavelength." He gestured at her notes. "Go through the whole rundown."

  Sabrina launched into an extensive elaboration of her back-to-back interactions, giving him every detail, touching on the various unique talents she'd perceived, the outstanding employees she'd zeroed in on—those she referred to as "the best of the best"—and the occasional weaker link she detected.

  The latter were few and far between, a smattering of B's and B+'s in a company full of A's.

  "Nothing to sit up nights about. Just things to stay on top of," she clarified to Carson. "And remember, these were only first impressions. I have a long way to go before they're etched in stone."

  "Damn good start... Right on target, in most cases..." Carson had listened intently, his forehead creased in concentration. But now Sabrina could see how exhausted he was.

  "Enough," she concluded, putting away her notes. "I just crammed a nine-hour day into twenty minutes. You need to rest. Suffice it to say, you're right. I'm hooked. Even the visit to the lab, and watching the perfume being made, was fascinating. I could picture you doing the extractions, mixing and testing, creating all your groundbreaking fragrances." A brief pause, and she regarded Carson soberly as she realized how true her own words were. "I can't thank you enough. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

  "Um—I'd say it's a draw." Contentment softened the lines of pain and fatigue on his face. "Having you in my life and in my company—those are pretty once-in-a-lifetime, too."

  Sabrina rose. "You get some sleep."

  "Where're you going?"

  "To pump my mother for information."

  A faint chuckle. "Don't bother. She won't tell.... She's the one you inherited the diplomacy part of the combo from." He turned to Dylan, who'd also gotten up. "You look crappy... like you're about to keel over...."

  "Thanks," Dylan retorted dryly. "But I'm holding up fine."

  "Yeah. Right." A sudden thought seemed to strike Carson. "Did either of you eat today?"

  Dylan squinted, trying to remember. "I had a muffin after the meeting. Other than that, nope. Just lots of coffee."

  Carson grunted. "What about you?" he asked Sabrina.

  "Same," she confessed.

  "Then go get dinner," Carson ordered. "Jesus, you're like two damned college kids.... You treat your bodies like shit----Now go get some food... and I don't mean a sandwich and coffee.... Something substantial. Sabrina, you've got a huge corporate expense account now.... Use it."

  Her lips twitched. "I already had a corporate expense account."

  "Sure you did." Another grunt. "How much does food cost... up there in the sticks?... You're in the Big Apple now.... That CCTL expense account won't buy a pretzel and a soda."

  "Damn." Sabrina snapped her fingers. "And that's just what I was in the mood for, too—a salty New York pretzel and a Diet Coke."

  Carson glared at her, then shot Dylan a look. "She's more stubborn than you are."

  "What a surprise," Dylan replied. "I wonder who she could take after?"

  "Get the two of you fed..." Carson commanded, ignoring Dylan's barb. "Go somewhere good.... Your expense account's nothing to sneeze at either.... You run the show.... Just take her to dinner."

  "I intended to. No mandate or expense account necessary." Dylan arched a brow. "Just tell me, are you picking the restaurant again? Or does that fall under the category of my running the show, meaning I'm allowed the privilege?"

  "It depends.... Where'd you have in mind?"

  Dylan turned to Sabrina, addressing her as if Carson wasn't in the room. "Do you like Spanish? I know a great place in the Village. Amazing shrimp in green sauce and the best sangria around."

  "That sounds wonderful," she said. It did, too. The thought of relaxing over a glass of sangria was like a balm to her senses. "And seafood's perfect. After not eating all day, I don't think I could handle anything too heavy."

  "Done." Dylan inclined his head in Carson's direction. "I'm taking her to El Faro. Does that work for you?"

  "Yeah. Good choice. Crowded, but after a few drinks it won't matter." A corner of Carson's mouth lifted, even as his eyelids drooped. "Get the white sangria… goes well with the shrimp green... Get two pitchers of sangria…

  Tomorrow's Saturday... Our new president's day off... She can sleep in… So can our corporate counsel."

  Sabrina blinked, studying Carson, whose eyes had drifted shut. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was trying to manipulate the evening so it ended up with her and Dylan "sleeping in" together. But that was absurd. It had to be a coincidence—one that just happened to strike too close to home.

  She glanced at Dylan, whose startled expression matched hers. Clearly, the same thoughts were running through his head.

  He met her gaze and shrugged. "Let's go. He's half-asleep."

  "Apparently." She scooped up her jacket and took a step toward the door.

  At the same moment, it swung open, and Susan walked in. She looked pale, the area around her eyes— even concealed by extra makeup—swollen from crying. "Hi." She managed a smile. "The nurse told me you two were with Carson. Don't worry, I won't interrupt. I just wanted to check in on him. After that, I promise to wait in the lounge until you've finished your business."

  "That's not necessary. We just wrapped up." Sabrina waved away the offer, walking over to Susan and touching her arm. "Susan, I'm so sorry about Russ. I know he was part of your YouthOp family, and that's how he came to Ruisseau. I've heard such wonderful things about him. I feel terrible."

  Fresh tears dampened Susan's lashes, and she blinked them away. "Thank you. Yes, Russ was about the most glowing example of YouthOp's potential there could be. He was special. He would have made a real difference in this world. What happened to him was such a waste.
Everyone at YouthOp is heartsick...." An unsteady pause. "Anyway, I appreciate your sympathy."

  "Carson's hurting, too," Dylan stated flatly, his tone so pointed that Sabrina flinched. Not that she disagreed with Dylan's feelings. He was looking out for Carson, reminding Susan that she wasn't the only one who'd suffered a loss. But how Susan would react to such a direct hit was anyone's guess. More important, how Carson would react when he woke up and Susan told him about Dylan's barbed comment—that was an even bigger question.

  Sabrina got her answer sooner than expected.

  "Cool it, Dylan...." Carson's voice, tired but adamant, sounded from the bed.

  "It's okay," Susan responded, cutting Carson off before he got himself upset. "Dylan's right. You are hurting. And I've been a basket case, which is the last thing you need right now."

  "Good. Then we're on the same page." Dylan wasn't giving, not an inch, no matter how ticked off Carson got. "Sabrina and I are heading off to dinner. We'll leave you two alone—to comfort each other." He turned toward the bed, totally disregarding Carson's warning scowl. "Get some rest. I'll be by tomorrow."

  "Me, too," Sabrina added. Interesting that Carson now looked fully awake. Whether he'd gotten a second wind or was putting on a show for Susan's sake was anyone's guess.

  Actually, there was a third choice. Carson could have been more awake a few minutes ago than he wanted her or Dylan to realize. In which case, he was pulling some very interesting strings.

  She tucked that thought away for further contemplation.

  "By the way, Sabrina—" Susan's tone said she was trying to smooth things over. "I saw your mother here this morning. I would have introduced myself, but she was heading in the other direction. Did the two of you connect?"

  Now that revelation came at Sabrina out of left field.

  Carson hadn't said a word about Susan being aware of Gloria's visit. What had he told her?

  She tossed an uncertain glance in his direction.

  "There's no way they could have connected, Suze," he interceded, not missing a beat. "Sabrina hasn't seen the light of day.... Hasn't even breathed since eight A.M. She's been in meetings from then till now.... But I'm glad you reminded me.... I almost forgot to tell her about this morning's mix-up.... Damned medication clouds my thinking."

  He angled his head toward Sabrina. "Your mother called Ruisseau this morning looking for you.... Someone screwed up... told her you were at Mount Sinai, that your meeting with me was first thing in the day rather than last.... So she grabbed a cab and came here.... By the time we got our signals straight, you were already in the middle of that big powwow with Stan.... She said it could wait.... Talk about a comedy of errors..."

  "I see." Quickly, Sabrina assimilated the story Carson had fabricated. She was very touched that he'd gone to such lengths to honor his promise not to divulge who she was, even to Susan. After all, Susan wasn't just anyone— she was a fundamental person in his life.

  A person who deserved to know the truth, not along with the rest of the world, but privately and in advance.

  Sabrina was the only one who could make that happen.

  "Your poor mother." Susan grimaced, mistaking Sabrina's silence for irritation. "She rode all the way uptown for nothing. She must have blown half a business day. Will she be very upset?"

  "Not at all." Sabrina recovered, regained her stride. "My mother's used to my insane schedule. She won't be the least bit upset, especially since we just had dinner together last night. I'll give her a call from my cell as soon as I leave the hospital."

  Susan's relief was tangible. "How long will she be in New York?" she asked, a hopeful note creeping into her voice. "I'd love to meet her."

  "Hey, Suze...." Carson's voice emerged from the bed again. "The poor woman's probably swamped.... I know her daughter is.... I'm not giving her a chance to breathe... much less have time for herself.... Not with the rates she charges... Now let these two go to dinner.... Come over here and sit with me."

  "Carson—it's okay," Sabrina broke in, referring to much more than the introduction. "I'm sure my mother would love to meet Susan." She gave Carson a gentle nod.

  "Fine..." Comprehension flickered in his eyes, but he kept his face carefully expressionless. "The two of them can get together over lunch... but you'd better make it the weekend if you want to join them...."

  Sabrina understood. Carson was keeping up the pretense, giving her a final chance to change her mind. He wasn't going to say a single word, not until and unless she gave him the go-ahead.

  "Goodnight, you two." Firmly, he dismissed her and Dylan, holding her gaze as he let her off the hook. "Eat and drink hearty."

  The ball was in her court.

  She fielded it, with a lot more ease than she'd anticipated.

  "We will—soon," she said, putting an end to the charade. "First I want to talk to Susan." She turned to do so. "Susan, the truth is, my mother's not in New York on business. And she didn't come to Mount Sinai to see me. She came to see Carson."

  "To see..." Susan blinked, clearly bewildered. "I don't understand." Her fingers fluttered through the air in confusion. "Why would your mother visit Carson? And why wouldn't he tell me if she had?"

  "Because he was protecting me."

  "From what?"

  "It's a long story. But it's time you heard it." A pause. "I want you to hear it—for your sake, and for Carson's." Sabrina angled around, assessing Carson's energy level. "Are you up for this? Or should I take Susan out to the lounge and talk to her there?"

  "No way." He shook his head, and Sabrina could see he was grappling with a wealth of emotion. "I missed the original announcement.... You know, the one where they say, 'It's a girl'... There's not a chance I'm missing the second one… If you're telling... I'm listening."

  "I'm glad," Sabrina said simply. She put her hand on Susan's arm, gestured toward a chair. "Have a seat. Whatever you're expecting, it's not this."

  CHAPTER 20

  8:45 P.M.

  El Faro

  The world looked a lot rosier after three glasses of sangria.

  Then again, they were a necessary reprieve after the day Sabrina had just charged her way through.

  Buffeted by waiters making their way through narrow aisles carrying covered dishes of food, lulled by the din of enthusiastic patrons and the tantalizing smells of Spanish cuisine, Sabrina felt cradled within a lovely sense of cocooned isolation. So this was the eye of the hurricane. Well, it was a great stopping point.

  With the edge of her spoon, she toyed with an orange slice at the bottom of her glass. She wasn't drunk. But she wasn't sober either. Between the languid effects of the wine, the filling warmth of the food, and the sharp adrenaline drop that signified the end of a Guinness Book week, she felt exquisitely relaxed.

  "A penny for your thoughts," Dylan said, watching her over the rim of his own glass.

  She smiled. "I was just thinking that Carson was right. This is exactly what I needed. I think I was about to implode."

  He nodded, refilling both their glasses. "Today was a day to write home about. The fact that you survived is a coup."

  "I think you said that yesterday. And the day before."

  "Probably. But today was in a class by itself." Dylan spooned more rice onto their plates, then added shrimp and drizzled green sauce over the top. "Eat. You need to recharge."

  "Okay. But I've already had two portions. I think I'm restored." She stuck her fork into the food, then into her mouth, savoring the garlicky flavor of the green sauce. "I did a pretty good job of anticipating things at Ruisseau. But that chat with Susan was pretty unexpected. Not that I'm sorry. It needed to be had. It's just that I was already reeling with stimuli...." She shook her head.

  "Yeah. Just when you thought the day was over, you found yourself recapping the story of your conception yet again."

  "The good news is, it wasn't too painful. Susan took it well, even though she was shaken up. And she had a right to know before the rest of the world
found out. She and Carson are pretty tight."

  "That they are."

  It was hard to miss the curt note in Dylan's voice.

  Sabrina put down her fork. "You're still pissed at her. Why? Do you really think her personal grief over Russ's murder is that unfounded?"

  "It's not her grief that's pissing me off. It's the self-centered way she's handling it. Not only is she so focused on her own pain that she barely notices Carson's, but she's leaning on him big-time. I know she's used to his being a rock. We all are. But, for God's sake, the man's been shot. He's fighting for his life. He's far from out of the woods. All his strength has to go into recovering. And he's a man, not a god. The least she could do is let him do the leaning for a change."

  "I see your point. But, in Susan's defense, I'm sure her reserves are shot. She's been at Carson's bedside practically round-the-clock. Now this horrible thing happened to Russ. It's a lot to deal with. And let's not forget one thing more—Carson's not exactly the lean-on-others type. You, of all people, know that."

  "All the more reason that those who care about him have to make him lean, especially at a time like this. You, of all people, know that." Dylan gave her a pointed look. "Aren't you the woman who blew a gasket because I wanted to facilitate your move from the Plaza Athenée to your new place, even though a little help was precisely what you needed—and you knew it? Hell, Sabrina, you're just like him."

  "I guess I am," Sabrina acknowledged thoughtfully. "Sometimes help has to be shoved down my throat. Okay, you're right. Susan's well aware that Carson's stubborn as hell about showing weakness. In this case, she should be forcing him to get over that—and forcing herself to be strong." Sabrina took a sip of sangria. "You know her a lot better than I do. Do you doubt that her feelings for Carson are genuine?"

  "Nope." Dylan gave an adamant shake of his head. "That's the one thing I don't doubt. If I did, I'd be in Carson's face, whether or not he wanted me there. Someone's got to look out for the guy. As it is..." His voice trailed off. "Let's not talk about this anymore, okay? It only ticks me off. And I want us to unwind."