by Carol Caiton
But she now understood what he'd meant when he told her he'd lost too much. So it was her turn to rescue him. It was time for Kyle to have his turn at joy and she vowed to give him as much of it in their life together as she was able.
Turning her head to look at him, she admired his profile, his goodness and his strength.
"I'm ready now for you to scold me," she said.
"You're ready, are you?"
"Yes. You may tell me of my indiscretion now."
"I may?"
"Yes." And if she purposely turned her words once in a while to bring that smile to his face, well that was for her to know, wasn't it?
Preview of The Brass Ring
The Brass Ring
RUSH, Inc.
Book 4
By Carol Caiton
CHAPTER 1
After spending a week in Las Vegas, Hannah knew it would take days to work through the backlog on her desk. One of the office floaters would have taken care of Elliott's immediate correspondence and fielded phone calls as well as could be expected for someone who wasn't entirely in the loop. But Hannah would find a week's worth of filing piled up, and she'd need to sort through all the messages, along with her own backlog of voicemails, then read over everything just to catch up on the current state of things. She'd likely be eating lunch at her desk most of the week, but that was okay. It had been worth it.
Passing through Checkpoint 2 on autopilot, she fingered the various bangles on her wrist until she found her watch, glanced at it, then turned toward Urns & Leaves. A large coffee to go was at the top of her list.
She knew Jessica wouldn't be there, and she prepared herself for the disappointment while removing her sunglasses. She and her sister had just started getting to know one another and it wasn't easy to give that up when such a large part of her life had been spent alone. She was happy for Jess. But she knew that Derek, Kathy, and Kyle were all from Pennsylvania and when Jessica had phoned to say she and Kyle were leaving to spend a week in Philadelphia, Hannah's heart had skipped a beat. What if they didn't come back?
Making her way to the take-out counter, she enjoyed the faint tap of the flashy high heels she'd bought while away. Black and toeless, a spray of colorful silk flowers splashed out between tiny feathers and rhinestones on the instep. They were a celebration of color and they went perfectly with the deep fuchsia-colored dress her mother had sent the month before.
In a conservative job environment her attire might be considered unsuitable—not that any private body parts were revealed. She'd been very careful about that since Simon practically accused her of putting herself on exhibition. But she had a naturally full bust, an hourglass waist, and slightly flaring hips that made the simplest designs appear womanly and seductive when she put them on.
Her sense of style came from her mother. It had to . . . that, and growing up among designers and seamstresses in the frenetic zeal of the fashion industry. It was a world she would have slotted into as well if she'd had any talent. But she wasn't in the least artistic. She couldn't draw a decent stick figure. Nor did she have the flair of imagination she saw in her mother. When Mia Breckenridge sat down at the drawing board, she lost herself to whatever muse inspired her and hardly budged for days.
But Hannah had a good eye and a good body, and she had sufficient confidence to carry off a touch of flamboyance. Her job at RUSH didn't call for an enticing uniform, but she wouldn't be reprimanded for drawing the male eye . . . unless Simon's was the eye being drawn. So, for the most part she was free to express that somewhat flashy side of her personality.
Fortunately, Simon had been absorbed with other things lately, one of those things being Jessica, and he'd stopped giving Hannah a difficult time. Maybe that was because he'd fallen for Jess and decided he'd better back off. He couldn't, after all, expect to win over one Breckenridge sister if he was forever taking digs at the other, could he?
In a sense though, Hannah felt bad for him. Restricted by RUSH's policy that prohibited relationships between unlinked couples, he'd been unable to openly pursue Jessica. Not on property anyway. Outside RUSH's gates was another matter altogether, and Hannah found herself wondering how many times he'd met with her sister on the outside. She knew for a fact that he'd begun introducing her to his friends.
Oddly, Jessica had been clueless. Maybe because she was so wrapped up in Kyle. But Simon's absence from her wedding was telling. So yes, Hannah could drum up enough compassion to feel for him. He'd lost Nina Millering to another man not long ago, and now Jessica as well.
"Hannah! Hi. Love the shoes."
"Hi, Luna. Thanks."
"How's Jessica?"
Hannah smiled. "She's a happy bride."
"That's great. But we're going to miss her. She said the oddest things sometimes and had us all laughing."
"I'm going to miss having her here too," Hannah said. "We had lunch together nearly every day."
"Mmm. I saw you out by the fountain a few times. Do you want the usual?"
"Please."
Luna turned away to prepare it, nothing elaborate, just a large standard coffee with cream.
"Her husband was a member here for a while, right?"
"Yes."
Luna flashed a conspiratorial smile. "I heard Security cancelled his membership for kissing her in the parking garage."
That was true. But Hannah didn't want to get caught up in gossiping about Kyle. Nevertheless, there was no use denying something if everyone already knew it had happened.
"Yes," she said. And apparently her monosyllabic answer conveyed her reluctance because Luna paused before handing over her coffee.
"I was teasing, Hannah," she said softly. "Gossip travels through the food court like a tsunami, but I try not to get caught up in it."
Hannah nodded and offered an apologetic smile. She knew Luna didn't spread rumors. Working at Urns & Leaves she listened—couldn't help listening—but she didn't repeat what she heard.
"Sorry. I'm a little overprotective where Jessica's concerned."
Luna returned her smile and handed over the Styrofoam cup. "Maybe a little protective where Kyle's concerned, too?"
"Okay, you might be right."
Both men, Simon as well as Kyle, had been facing obstacles because of RUSH's policy. Neither one had been able to pursue Jessica while on property. That same policy, however, was part of the reason Hannah left New York three years ago and moved to Florida. It, and the linking system, was a protocol she'd banked her future on, one that had gained a foothold on her life before the concept of RUSH had even been a spark in Michael's eye.
She'd been a young girl when her body had started maturing. At the age of twelve, the fullness of her breasts had drawn attention from boys much older, some of them in high school. Not that she wasn't interested in boys. She was, just not that old and not that big. She'd had a boyfriend. Sort of. Someone she met at summer camp who was her own age, and technology made it easy for them to stay in touch. But older boys, boys she didn't know, frequently approached her, starting conversations or showing off for her benefit. Looking back, she recognized their cockiness for what it was, but at twelve, their assertiveness had frightened her.
By the time she was in high school herself, she was accustomed to being approached in fast-food restaurants, convenience stores, or while out with her friends, sometimes right in front of their parents. It no longer frightened her, but it was annoying and sometimes embarrassing depending on the come-on and who she was with. As well, she'd learned early on that guys weren't particularly interested in spending time with her unless they could cop a feel. That lesson, coupled with the many lovers drifting in and out of her mother's life over the years, contributed to a general distrust of the opposite sex, along with a growing concern that she'd never find one special someone who would like her for herself.
Her mother, living in the fast lane, had heard whispers about RUSH, Inc. before the general public knew anything at all. She and her friends had chatted about it
over cocktails, and she'd even considered buying a time-share condo in the Orlando area. But Mia Breckenridge rarely took a vacation from work, and travel within the industry compensated for any desire she might have had to see new places. Then another succession of significant others put an end to the allure altogether.
Hannah had been sixteen at the time, and RUSH hadn't interested her in the slightest. She'd been rebuffing sexual overtures for four years and a computerized partnering system was just plain redundant.
Not long after that, at seventeen she concluded that a dating service might be her only recourse at finding someone with whom she could share a close relationship. But a mere week passed since reaching that conclusion when RUSH, Incorporated posted a variety of job openings on its website and became the topic of conversation at the girls' school she attended.
That was when a new idea came to mind . . . well, not entirely new. It was more an idea that expanded on her decision to find a boyfriend through a dating service. Bits and pieces of things her mother had talked about began playing over in her mind—things about the linking system, and things about RUSH's policy against unlinked couples. What better way to be assured someone was genuinely interested in her than to find a guy who would willingly choose a monogamous link at a place like RUSH? The policy restricting unmatched couples meant there would be no unwanted come-ons, and she wouldn't have to wonder if the person she linked with wanted her or her body.
She'd skipped classes to watch the three segments presented by Vanessa Boyer on Roland's Morning Show, and a plan formed in her mind. While the other girls were wondering how they could check out the guys at RUSH without having to actually join, Hannah sent out college applications to schools in Orlando. She didn't plan to become a member herself, wary of the stigma it would carry, but employment was an acceptable alternative. She could always quit if she found the environment uncomfortable or not what it advertised itself to be.
She kept her plan to herself though, only telling her mother that she was tired of living in a dormitory and wanted her own apartment. Then, after graduation, she packed her things and moved to Florida, intent on learning more about RUSH before taking the next step.
But information about the infamous sex club was sparse. Settling into her new home, she thought she'd be able to learn a great deal now that she lived in the general vicinity, but that wasn't the case. RUSH carefully guarded its privacy and the only additional information she acquired came from the local news coverage of various protest marches on International Drive. Everyone on campus openly talked about the place, and more than once she accompanied a group of friends when they decided to drive past the wrought-iron gates for a close-up look. But unless she relented and sent out a resume, she could pursue her goal no further.
As soon as she came to terms with that, however, she ran into problems. The first was scheduling. After looking up RUSH's website to review the positions available, the only ones that appealed to her were full-time. She considered that for a while and decided she could rearrange her classes to take as many as possible at night. It wouldn't be an easy transition and the workload would be brutal, but she could push herself for the rest of the semester, then reevaluate things from there.
The second problem, however, wasn't as easy to maneuver around. She'd wanted to try for a secretarial position but her only work experience came from growing up in the fashion world and filling in wherever needed. She had some secretarial experience, but not much.
Still, it came as a surprise when she sat down to list the various skills she'd acquired over the years and found that all those summers of filling in comprised a wide range of skills, some of which would be useful to any industry. Still, time spent in her mother's office was limited.
She prepared and sent out a resume, surprised yet again when RUSH's personnel office contacted her, asking her to come fill out an application. Either Mia Breckenridge's name was a door-opener, or many summers of piecemeal secretarial work had paid off.
Thinking back on it now though, she knew Elliott had hired her not only because she'd had that secretarial experience, but because she was familiar with the demands of high-end industry. And if working for her famous mother contributed anything of value, it was that Hannah could be trusted with confidential information.
That awful day when Simon had written her up for leaving a sensitive file open while she escaped to have lunch with Jessica had been a personal failure. She still sometimes castigated herself over it. Thankfully, Elliott's reprimand had been less severe. He'd merely told her to be more careful in the future. But if that bid information had found its way into the wrong hands, she would have been fired.
So Simon's reprimand had been deserved. She couldn't fault that. Nevertheless, he'd dressed her down in front of Mary, Kyle, Malcolm, and Jessica. Anyone in the corridors would have heard him, as well. He'd humiliated her once again, then topped it off by implying she might like to show off her body in the pillory at Threshold.
As Luna said, news traveled fast when something gossip-worthy occurred. Both the reprimand and Simon's insult had probably made the rounds, just as his failure to secure Nina Millering as his blue link had done for weeks on end. And now it was Kyle's turn in the grapevine.
She reached for her coffee with one hand and pressed the palm of her other on the biometric scanner when Luna totaled up the cost. "Thanks, Luna. I have a ton of work waiting for me so I'd better run. Have a nice day," she added before turning away.
But as soon as she started toward the exit she spotted Simon at a window table. He was a tall man, and the small bistro table seemed to enhance his size. She wondered why he was there. Why bother now that Jessica was no longer around and available. Did his feelings for her run so deep that he was compelled to revisit the places where they'd shared time together?
His dark eyes locked on her and she stumbled to a halt. She watched his gaze travel down her body to her shoes and pause. Then his lids narrowed before they swept upward again, his eyes lingering on the bodice of her dress, then rising to meet hers once more. To her further dismay, however, he pushed away from the table and stood up. He pulled out the chair beside his, raised one dark brow, and motioned her over by extending an open palm toward the seat.
She hesitated. Did she have a choice? Was he going to start causing trouble for her again now that Jessica had married someone else? Would he criticize her shoes? Find fault with the fit of her dress or its rich color? Reprimand her for taking vacation time without giving proper notice?
Stiff with tension, she took herself over to his table, carefully set her cup on top, and sat down while he held the chair for her. Hardly daring to move, she waited, telling herself she'd done nothing wrong.
But Simon was in no hurry to explain why he'd summoned her. He resumed his own seat, his unsmiling eyes focused on her, and studied her.
Her hands began to shake.
"You applied for a blue link," he finally said, breaking the silence.
She blinked, suddenly confused. How on earth did he know about that? Then, cautiously she nodded. "Yes," she admitted, though it was really none of his business.
His eyes drifted down to her lips, lingered, then came back up to hers.
"I've accepted it," he said.
She frowned, even more confused. Accepted what?
His dark suit jacket hugged broad shoulders, the dress shirt beneath snowy white, and his tie was perfectly knotted. He was an extraordinarily handsome man, but his stoic demeanor was no more engaging than if he'd confirmed the latest weather report . . . except for the burning intent she saw in his eyes.
Finally, his words began to register. He'd accepted it. —Her blue icon? No, that couldn't be right.
But he didn't look away.
"You accepted it," she managed to say.
"Yes."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
"I've accepted your blue icon."
She stared.
She shook her head again.
Tears rushed to her eyes, immediately spilling over. Her stomach churned into a tangle of knots.
"No," she whispered, still shaking her head.
Scrambling to her feet, she heard her chair clatter backwards onto the floor, but it was a distant, surreal sound.
"No." she said again, more forcefully as he rose to his feet as well.
On a terrible sob, she stumbled away from the table, turned, and sprinted toward the ladies' room as quickly as her four-inch stilettos would take her.
