by Noelle Adams
“Finished?”
Rick stood stiffly, his eyes like stone. “Guess so.”
“Good.” Logan stepped around him.
***
Allison looked up from the bar and saw Logan heading her way, a man on a mission. She quickly turned away.
She didn’t want the attention that followed him. She wanted to be her usual anonymous self. Besides, when he stood too close, and gave her that velvety look, her best intentions became her body’s downfall. She wanted him. His touch. The way he took control. The heat of his breath on her skin.
“Don’t you just love festive occasions?” A dry female voice came from beside her.
Allison blinked and faced the woman. Her henna-brown hair framed her face with a razor-sheared edge, focusing attention on her small features. Devon Leigh wore her confidence like a badge that fit her as perfectly as the black dress wrapped around her pale slenderness. She was a former army major, didn’t take crap from anybody, and served as Logan’s chief information officer.
Sharing Devon’s unimpressed observation, Allison agreed. “It’s right up there with juggling cobras. How are you?”
“Dandy.” She threw Allison a look that said I’m bored out of my mind. “I don’t even know half these people.”
Allison shrugged. “Me, either.”
“You’ve only been here six weeks. I’ve worked with Logan for five years.”
“And he sings your praises.”
Devon tossed a flip of her dark hair back from her face. “He’d better. After all I’ve done for him I should have a star on the sidewalk in front of our building, like they do in Hollywood.”
Allison wasn’t fooled by how casually Devon shrugged off the compliment. “I’ve seen you work. You love what you do.”
Devon offered a thoughtful nod. “You get the fleas with the dog.”
A laugh bubbled up Allison’s throat. “Thanks for going against the crowd and not treating me like a leper.”
“Our kind needs to stick together.”
They exchanged grins. A subtle acknowledgement, quiet understanding with no need for explanation.
Devon displayed fierce wit, a sharp tongue, and a “don’t screw with me” attitude that Allison envied. Devon was a master in the art of the comeback. Allison had expected such a strong personality would clash with her own, but she and Devon sensed kindred spirits in each other. Women who’d faced the front lines, each in her own way, and worshipped their independence. They’d confronted parallel realities stocked with powerful men in the good-ol’-boys club. They’d fought to gain respect while it came easily to others. Although Devon had a grittier edge and a hefty chip on her shoulder, Allison was more comfortable in her presence than with the few women she’d once considered “friends.” Devon didn’t hold back or ignore the obvious, like the wives on the military base when she’d turned to them for help six years ago. She envisioned Devon learning of Trevor’s cruelty, marching up to him, and ripping his “my wife is my property” attitude to shreds.
Allison wished there were more Devons in this world.
“Oh, for the love of leeches.” Devon’s pleasant expression soured. “Turn away. Don’t make eye contact with her, or you’ll invite the Plague.”
“Who are you talking about?”
A woman with a generous figure and fluffy curls in her frosted hair barreled toward them. “Ladies, ladies! Isn’t this a fabulous party? I need another chardonnay.”
Devon leaned close and muttered, “She’d think a shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean was fabulous if it had a full mini bar.”
Allison’s lips twitched as the new arrival bounced up to her. “Hi, I’m Vivi Dunn.”
Dread seeped into her pores. Rick Dunn’s wife. Great. Had he put her up to this? A fishing expedition to hook juicy slander?
Vivi’s blue eyes, encircled with heavy black liner and flaking mascara, swept Allison with a resentful look. “I remember being young and pretty. It all goes to hell after forty-five. Oh, what I would give to have my before-four-kids body again.”
With a forced smile, Allison edged away. She gripped her martini glass, even though she had no intention of drinking. Her stomach had gone from queasy to nauseous.
Vivi poked Allison with her elbow. Pink liquor sloshed from her glass onto the bar. “In my day I turned heads.” She fluffed her hair and gave a winning smile. “I’d walk into a room and have the attention of every man there.”
Devon rolled her eyes. “Not all attention is good attention.”
Vivi wrinkled her nose. “Oh, admit it. Any man with a pulse lusts after this girl.” An observation that made Devon scowl and Allison squirm. “Like me,” she said, nudging Allison, “you inherited the genes of a Barbie doll. Enjoy it while it lasts. To get my figure back I’d have to give up cheesecake and wine. Then, I’d have to ask, what’s the point in living?”
Allison sent a pleading glance to Devon, who shrugged with a sorry-for-your-luck expression. So she replied thinly, “Life’s meant to be enjoyed.”
“Exactly! I knew I’d like you.” Vivi beamed. “We’ll get along famously.”
The bartender set a glass of white wine on the counter. Vivi swung her hips to bump Devon aside. She plucked the drink and drained half before resuming her interrogation. “I saw you come in with the boss man.”
“Logan invited me.” Allison added quickly, “It was a last-minute thing.”
“Yummy.” Her shoulders gave a little shiver. “He’s a big hunk of deliciousness, isn’t he? Drink up, sweetie.” She tapped the bottom of Allison’s glass. “According to office gossip, when he takes a girl home she’s in for a good long night.” She winked. “If you know what I mean.”
A rock dropped into Allison’s stomach. How many working relationships had Logan made personal? She straightened. It didn’t matter. Picturing him with another woman, possibly one in this room, didn’t bother her. Or leave her with a hollow sensation in her very core. She wasn’t one of those girls. She needed to set the woman straight. “You don’t understand, Logan and I—”
Vivi flapped her hand. “Sure, sure, corporate politics. But did you think no one would notice the sexy CEO showing up with his latest ‘assistant?’ Puh-leez.”
Allison swallowed a choking sensation.
“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you two arrived.” Vivi casually polished off her drink, blind to the pale horror on Allison’s face. “Ah, those were the days.”
Is that what they think? Had Logan dragged her here to bolster his reputation in and out of the office? She felt mortified, used. Sharp anger dug in its talons.
Devon inserted, “Riveting as your theories are, I’m stepping outside for a cigarette. Anyone who cares to join can. Meaning Allison.”
Vivi arched a painted-on eyebrow. “Well, smoking explains your skinniness and the feathering around your lips.”
Allison frowned. That comment was absurdly off the mark. Devon had a striking dark-on-pale beauty most women would kill for. So what if she smoked, considering the stress of her job.
Devon lashed back, “Better than a has-been lush who doesn’t know when to shut her trap and mind her own business.”
Allison could’ve hugged her. She wished she’d stuck up for Devon when she had the chance.
Vivi whispered aghast, “Well, I never.” She glared at Devon’s retreating back. “Jealousy is an ugly accessory to wear to a party. Hmph.”
“Devon isn’t jealous,” Allison said. “No one should be, because there’s nothing—”
“Everything okay here?” Logan’s voice came from behind them.
Three
Allison whirled on Logan. No! she wanted to shout, furious with herself as much as him. How dare you flaunt me, when I never asked for your spotlight?
“Your latest conquest and I were just chatting.” Throwing Logan a wink, Vivi elbowed him in the ribs.
With sarcasm Allison remarked, “Yes, Mr. Stone. Everything is lovely. Mrs. Dunn and I were just discu
ssing office gossip. About you.”
Logan had the dignity to cringe.
“Don’t worry,” Vivi insisted, swatting Logan’s backside. “I explained how your reputation precedes you.”
He went from concerned to irritated, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Whatever she said, it’s not true.”
“Except the good stuff.” Vivi grinned indulgently. “I heard you—”
“Allison,” he interrupted, “dinner is being served. Join me?”
“No, thanks.” She glared at him. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
He slid his arm around her waist and guided her away. “There’s an empty seat beside mine with your name on it.”
She wriggled out of his grasp. “I told you, I’m not hungry.”
“Humor me.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”
As they neared the table, he blocked her retreat, and she had little choice but to move with his strides. He planted her drink at the place setting beside his guest-of-honor position. Then he held the chair out for her. She should get out while she could. But he’d driven, and finding a cab in a snowstorm wasn’t likely. This was the last time she let a man talk her into something when she knew better. She dropped into the seat and sent him a withering look. “You threw me under the bus tonight, Logan.”
He peered at her intently. “Is that what you think?” Guests swarmed around the table, taking their places. “We’ll talk later.”
How convenient, she stewed. She gripped the sides of her chair like it was the only stable thing in the room. Anger boiled under the surface of her outward calm.
When Vivi and Rick Dunn sat across the table from her, the night went from intolerable to abysmal. She concentrated on the centerpiece, a birch-bark candelabra casting a soft glow that should’ve soothed her. Conversations rippled to the left, to the right. Her head started to pound.
The table went through half a dozen toasts to Logan and Stone Security as salads and warm rolls made the rounds. She winced as a well-meaning colleague tried chatting her up. She’d rather face a rabid dog than endure small talk. He got the picture after a few minutes.
As adoring friends and colleagues showered him with compliments, Logan redirected praise away from himself and toward his various employees. In the main dining area beyond their private room, a piano and violin played Mozart concertos.
Of the three courses presented, Allison managed to hold down four bites of salad, three tips of brown-butter asparagus, and two forkfuls of steamed lobster. Vivi never stopped talking. Allison’s head pounded worse. She wanted to tell the woman to chew her food before speaking. And pause for breath. But she’d never get a word in edgewise. Over the next painful hour, Allison endured Rick’s stinging glares. Indigestion and frustration made it hard to breathe.
Unable to force-feed herself, she wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin on her lap and dropped it onto her plate. She scooted her chair back, anxious to excuse herself from purgatory.
As if on cue, Vivi launched an interrogation. “Allison, where did you say you were from originally?”
Allison replied coolly, “I didn’t.”
“I’ll bet you grew up in California. Blonde hair, beach body, starlet looks. I’m from Venice Beach.”
“How nice for you.”
“Where did you grow up?”
Allison had imagined a thousand different ways to avoid this discussion. Unfortunately, put on the spot, she had no clever reply and half the table looked interested in the answer. She opted for the truth. “I was born just outside Paris. Since I can remember, my parents toured with the European Opera. I traveled with them.”
Vivi gasped with joy. “How fabulous!” She dropped her fork and leaned forward. “Where did you go? What was it like? Oh, I’ve always dreamed of visiting Europe.” Her elbow slammed Rick in the ribs, and he grunted. “Tell me more!”
This was the last conversation she wanted to have with strangers, definitely not with Logan listening, hearing about the sad lonely life she’d lived. “It was…interesting.”
The evasive answer didn’t satisfy Vivi. “Paint the picture for me. I need details!”
Staring at a distant point on the wall, she dredged up the past. “We spent most of our time in France, Austria, Germany and Italy. We also toured the Sydney Opera House, and my parents performed in Moscow and Japan. Always traveling.” Her teeth gnawed at her lower lip. “I really never had a home, a place to grow up.”
Gentle concern shone in Logan’s eyes. “Traveling like that is a dream for a lot of people. But as a kid, that must have been hard.”
“It was all I knew.” She wasn’t looking for sympathy. “My parents lived an adventurous life, but part of me always wanted one place to call home.”
Vivi’s blue eyes glazed over, missing the shadowed undertones of Allison’s private torment. “How fabulous! So, what brought you to America?”
More discussions around the table ceased. She gained a larger audience. She dug her nails into her leather chair. “I met a soldier. An American. His description of this country was what I’d always wanted. The land where dreams come true.” She swallowed hard. “I believed him.”
“You’re not with him anymore.” Vivi’s over-statement of the obvious demanded explanation.
Allison made the mistake of glancing across the table. Rick’s glare was fastened on her. As if he’d been waiting for this moment. Easy access to a point of personal humiliation. But she refused to break so easily. “My ex-husband is no longer with us.”
That shut them all up. Not even a whisper followed. Rick’s reaction was visceral. He didn’t need to speak. His look of disgust all but called her out on the lie.
Whether he knew it or not, her admission was essentially true. When it came to Trevor’s mental state. Her ex-husband’s descent into psychosis turned him into an abomination of the young man she met at eighteen.
She hated the stares digging into her, some pitying, others eager for scandalous details. She denied them the sick pleasure. “If you’ll excuse me.” She scraped her chair back from the table.
Logan stood, too. He reached for her but she brushed past him, heading to the restroom. There she splashed cold water on her cheeks, trying to soothe the burn of embarrassment. She lifted her face, drying her chin as she looked at herself in the mirror.
Whatever beauty Vivi pointed out wasn’t in the reflection Allison saw. Her inner landscape was so damaged and desolate she’d never understand why anyone found her attractive. Least of all Logan. The sparkle that once lit her green eyes had faded long ago. She barely knew the person staring back at her. “God, my life is a disaster.”
“And I thought I had problems,” a brusque female voice responded. A faint trace of cigarette smoke hung in the air.
Allison’s gaze snapped from her own reflection to Devon standing behind her. Her insides still writhing, she couldn’t stand another minute of being vulnerable. She spoke with forced humor. “I put on quite a show. Sorry you missed it. I gave Vivi enough gossip to last a year.”
Devon shrugged. Her dark eyes were kind. “Don’t take it so hard. Trust me, your fifteen minutes of infamy will fade by next week. People may toss around interesting theories or pity for a while, but that requires more energy than the accepted pastimes of bitching and back-stabbing.”
A puff of laughter escaped Allison. “That actually makes me feel better.”
“I thought it might.” Devon smiled. “Want to join me at the main restaurant bar?”
“I’d love to,” Allison said a little too eagerly. She tossed her paper towel in the trash. “There’s no way I’m going back into that private room.”
“Don’t blame you.”
“I’m a cheap date tonight,” Allison added, in case the woman considered changing her mind. “Ginger ale is about all I can stomach.”
“Fine by me.” They exited the restroom together. As they took two seats at the u-shaped bar in the dining room, Devon sighed. “I tried to w
arn you about Vivi Dunn.”
“Two seconds too late.” Allison shook her head. “You weren’t kidding about the Plague.”
“Would I sugarcoat that hell-on-wheels?”
As they waited for drinks, Devon shared the amusing story of how she first met Vivi. The major’s straight-faced depiction had Allison doubled over with laughter.
Allison eyed her gratefully. “Thanks for saving me. If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t have left the bathroom. From now on, you have my full abiding trust.”
Devon arched a black eyebrow. “Not sure Logan’s going to like that.”
“Why?”
“I know how he works.”
“Then you’re exactly the person I need to talk to right now.”
“Sounds like a girl’s-night-out waiting to happen.”
Allison admitted longingly, “You have no idea.” She found ginger ale acted like a truth serum as much as alcohol. She spent the next thirty minutes spilling the story of her one-night-stand with Logan. And how he wouldn’t let it go.
Devon listened patiently, respectfully. Her lack of judgment was the balm Allison needed to soothe her misgivings. Once she’d purged her pent-up anxiety, she felt relieved.
After a brief silence, Devon offered words of wisdom along with a sardonic look. “There are worse things.”
“Oh, really?”
“Look at the bright side. At least you aren’t pregnant.”
Allison’s grin died on her lips. That possibility had occurred to her earlier.
Oh, God. What if I am pregnant?
No. Absolutely impossible. He’d used a condom. They may have had sex four times within five hours, but she didn’t remember a condom breaking. Her recent physical issues—bloating, breast tenderness, stomach upset, fatigue—all symptoms of PMS. Had to be, even though her period hadn’t come yet.
“You’re right, Devon,” she whispered faintly. “Things could definitely be worse.”
“See? It’s all about perspective.” Devon sipped her drink, her lipstick leaving a red ring on her straw. Then she froze. “Um, this doesn’t look good.”
Allison straightened, burying her worry under heaps of denial. Because the alternative was unthinkable. “What? Is Vivi charging in on her high horse?”
