by Day Leclaire
“Don’t worry, Dani. I’m fine. We’ll speak tomorrow. ”
“Wait, Nick—”
Ever so gently, he returned the receiver to its cradle. “Image off,” he whispered.
Instantly, the screen went dark.
CHAPTER SIX
DANI SAT in Nick’s office, wishing she had the nerve to discuss the real reason she’d come instead of talking about SSI’s financial situation.
“Are you listening, Dani? This is serious.”
“I’m listening. I just don’t understand.” She frowned, putting aside her concerns about the previous evening’s conversation. They could discuss that later. Even turning her full attention to their current discussion, though, didn’t make the information any more comprehensible. “How could we be in financial difficulties? The last statement you gave me says just the reverse.”
He focused on the papers spread across his desk. It struck her as odd that he avoided looking at her. She’d never seen Nick do that before. “We have more competition now,” he finally said. “And without Peter keeping an eye on our domestic concerns while I was overseas, we have some catch-up work to do.”
Her frown deepened. Peter’s contribution had never been all that much. He’d specialized in sales. Even in that arena, he’d put in as little time as he could manage. So why would his loss cause such difficulties, especially when Nick had a whole army of salesmen and marketing types for that very purpose?
“I still don’t understand.”
“Then let me keep it simple. Our domestic sales this past year have been nonexistent. We haven’t picked up a major new client in close to a year. And some of our current customers are jumping ship. We need to get them back, as well as drum up new business.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’ve been soliciting a new client. His name’s Raven Sierra, and he owns a string of ranching co-ops. I’ve almost convinced him to test a Gem-type security system. Assuming he agrees to a trial run and all goes well, he plans to purchase the system for both home and of fice. That will give us a whole new niche of the market to explore.”
“Sierra has that much influence?” At Nick’s nod, she asked. “How can I help?”
“I’d like you to show him how simple Gem is to operate.”
Dani couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“He wants to be certain that his daughter won’t have a problem with the system.”
“In that case, you’d be better off having this conversation with your computer.”
“How many times do I have to tell you—”
“I know, I know. Gem’s a machine. She performs functions she’s been programmed to follow.”
“Exactly.”
“No thought. No emotion. Just circuit boards and memory chips. Right, Nick?”
His mouth tightened. “Just like Gem’s creator.”
That stopped her, reminded her of the true reason for her visit—to discuss last night’s phone conversation. “That’s not what I said.”
“No?” He shoved back his chair and stood. “It’s what you meant, though. Isn’t it?”
She straightened, eyeing him warily. “For some reason you’re determined to turn this marriage into a real one. But it’s not. We had one night together. That’s all it was.”
He crossed to the window, his back to her. “One spectacular night.”
“Fine. One spectacular night.” Her comment was supposed to sound calm. It didn’t. Memories pierced every word she spoke. “But it’s not enough of a foundation for marriage. There has to be trust and... and emotional commitment.”
He turned. “And Abigail? Is she enough of a foundation?”
“Perhaps,” Dani conceded. “If things had been different.”
“Specify.”
She shook her head. “Do you hear yourself, Nick? ‘Specify?’ You can’t just bark orders at me and expect me to input or output or compute some function. I’m a woman.”
His mouth tilted. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“No. I don’t think you do.” How could she make him understand? “I’m not Gem. You can’t push a button or program certain functions in order to turn me into a model wife. I’m not a machine, Nick. I want more.”
“Tell me what you want.” It was a demand, spoken with a cutting edge. She could see the frustration seething beneath the calm. But as always, he kept it under control. Tight control. “Name it and it’s yours.”
“I...” She closed her eyes, struggling to speak dispassionately. Then, realizing why, she released a wobbly laugh.
“I’m sitting here, trying to compose a logical argument. I’m trying so hard not to get emotional, because I know that’s not something that makes sense to you or that you’d appreciate. There’s only one problem.” She lifted her gaze to his. “That’s who I am. I’m an emotional person, Nick. You programmed Gem to alert you when I deviate. But what you don’t seem to realize is that I deviate all the time.”
“Do you think I don’t?”
“As far as I’m aware, it only happened once.”
His face settled into harsh lines. And his eyes—Her breath caught. Oh, heaven help her. His eyes blazed with more emotion than she’d ever thought possible. He approached her with unmistakable determination.
Her hands tensed on the armrests of her chair. “Nick, don’t.”
“Once? Do you think that was the only time? Well, guess what?” Reaching down, he yanked her into his arms. “In case you haven’t realized, wife, I’m deviating right this minute. I’m deviating like you wouldn’t believe.” His mouth hovered over hers, and he thrust his hands deep into her hair. “I want you, Dani. I want you in my arms. I want you in my bed. But most of all I want you in my life.”
And then he kissed her.
It was rough with desperation, raw with need. He consumed her, drank her in, savored the rich, sweet taste. And she was helpless in his arms. No. Not helpless. She could step away at any point. But she didn’t want to. Heaven help her, she couldn’t bear to leave the Eden he’d created. It had never been like this with Peter. Never. They’d experienced passion. But not on this level, not to this height or depth or degree. They’d been children, playing at love.
This consuming force couldn’t compare. With every kiss, every nip of his teeth and slide of his tongue, Nick proved that what they felt went beyond mere passion. There was a terrifying commitment in his touch, a gentle entreaty beneath the savage demand.
“What do you want from me?” Her question was almost lost within his kiss.
But he heard, heard and understood. His hands cupped her face, and he seared her eyelids with his lips. Then he sipped from her mouth one last time, a heart-rending tribute to emotions she was determined to deny. “I’ll take whatever you have to give,” he said. “I want it all. But I’ll take whatever you have left.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Don’t you understand? I don’t have anything left.”
“You have more than you realize. You’re just afraid to trust me.” His hands slipped to the sides of her breasts and hesitated. Then his thumbs softly, ever so gently, traced the burgeoning tips. “Isn’t this enough for you, Dani?”
“All it proves is that you want me. I already knew that.” A tear escaped, the hot splash scalding her cheek. “Peter wanted me, too. Briefly. My mistake was thinking want meant love. I was seventeen and honestly believed I’d found my soul mate. I gave him everything within me to give. And he took. And he took and took and took until I had nothing left. That’s when I realized—” Her voice broke, but she struggled on. “That’s when I discovered that he didn’t love me, had never loved me and never would.”
“Dani, don’t—”
“Do you know what his last words to me were? He said—” She dragged air into her lungs. “He said, ‘Well, sweet cakes. It was fun for a while there. But you had to know it wouldn’t last.’ He smiled when he said it, like he expected me to laugh at some great joke. A
nd when I didn’t, he gave me this pitying look and said, ‘Next time find someone who believes in love.”’
Nick wrapped her in his arms. “He’s gone, Dani. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“He was right.” A fierce determination chased the pain from her voice. “Maybe for the first time in his life, he was right Next time I commit to a man—assuming I ever trust enough to make that sort of commitment—it will be to someone who can love me as much as I love him. I won’t settle for anything less. Never again.”
“MR. COLTER?” Gem swept into the conversation like a cold wind heralding the return of winter.
“What is it?” he rasped.
“PRIORITY ONE MESSAGE RECEIVED.”
“Relay.”
Instantly a woman’s brisk voice filled the room. “Take a message, computer,” she said. “Dinner. Six on Friday.”
“END MESSAGE.”
Dani moistened her lips. “Who’s that?”
The change in Nick was instantaneous. It only took one glance to realize that he’d returned to his arctic homeland. A bitter chill ate at the desperate heat from moments before. He crossed the room, distancing himself. “That’s my mother.”
She couldn’t conceal her astonishment “Your mother.”
“I do have one. And a father, too.” He offered a humorless smile. “Oh, that’s right. You thought I’d been assembled with bits of wire and electrical tape.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “I thought they were dead. You’ve never mentioned them, and I got the impression—”
Nick’s mouth twisted. “They’re not dead. At least, not physically.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s not important I assume the invitation is for all of us. I’m sure they’d like to meet my wife and daughter.”
“I’d love to meet them, too. I’m just sorry they couldn’t make the wedding.” A sudden thought occurred. “You did...you did invite them, didn’t you?”
He laughed then. A sound so totally devoid of amusement that it frightened her. “What the hell do you think?”
And it was then she remembered him standing in the open doorway of the judge’s office. He’d glanced up and down the corridor, hesitating for a brief moment before joining them for the ceremony. Waiting.
Waiting for his parents?
“LEVEL ONE SECURITY ALERT IN PROGRESS. FEMALE OFFSPRING UNIT EMITTING HIGH-PITCHED CRYING NOISE. PLEASE RESPOND IMMEDIATELY.”
Dani fought for patience. “Yes, Gem. I know Abigail is crying. She’s crying because I’m changing her diaper.”
“SEVERE NOISE EMISSION HAS BEEN PROGRESSING FOR ONE POINT THREE MINUTES. RECOMMEND OFFERING IMMEDIATE NOURISHMENT.”
“I just fed the baby. She’s not hungry.” Though why she bothered to argue with this font of mechanical idiocy escaped her. She’d learned long ago it was an exercise in futility.
“MY INSTRUCTIONS ARE SPECIFIC. YOU ARE TO BE NOTIFIED WITHIN THREE MINUTES FROM COMMENCEMENT OF CRYING NOISE.”
“I’m to be notified after three minutes, not within, and you know it.”
“NOISE INDICATES IMMEDIATE ATTENTION IS REQUIRED. PLEASE OFFER FEMALE OFFSPRING UNIT SUFFICIENT NOURISHMENT TO CANCEL ALERT.”
Dani glared at the nearest speaker—not that it did any good. Glaring at a disembodied voice didn’t provide the least amount of relief. What she wanted was a mechanized body so she could give it a good, swift kick in the microprocessor. “Abbey’s receiving immediate attention, in case your warped circuitry hasn’t processed that fact. Now cancel the alarm.”
“ERROR NUMBER ONE-ZERO-SEVEN,” Gem retorted, punctuating her comment with a snippy beep.
In response, Abigail increased the volume of her cries. “Now look what you’ve done.” Dani took immense satisfaction in saying it. “She doesn’t like it when you beep at her.”
Instantly, a dizzying array of sounds poured from the speakers in the room. First Kenny G, then Mozart, ten seconds of Wagner, followed by a lightning-speed montage of Elton John. When none of that worked, Gem switched to people. “Cootchy-cootchy coo,” blared Ruth’s voice, followed by an odd compilation of Austin whistling various tunes. Next came Dani’s sisters calling to Abbey in silly, high-pitched voices—the sort normally intelligent adults used only when coming eyeball-to-eyeball with a screaming newborn for the first time.
“Gem! Turn off that racket immediately!” Dani ordered. “It’s time for Abbey’s nap.”
The speakers went dead. The next instant the phone rang. With a sigh, Dani plucked the portable from her pocket. Over the past four weeks, she’d learned to carry the blasted thing around with her at all times. Otherwise she’d constantly be running to answer the phone every time Gem ran tattling to Nick with another deviation.
“We’ve got a problem,” he announced. “I’m on my way over.”
“There isn’t a problem, I promise. I’m not deviating at all. Gem—”
“This has nothing to do with Gem. We have a problem at SSI.”
Dani held the phone against her ear with an uplifted shoulder. “What sort of problem?” she asked, snapping closed Abigail’s red sleeper.
“I’ll explain when I get there. Your mother’s with me. She’s agreed to baby-sit Abigail for the next few hours.”
He’d picked up her mother? “It’s that serious?”
“It’s that serious.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready. I’ve just fed Abbey, so we can leave the minute you get here.” She pushed the disconnect button, pocketed the phone and settled the baby in the crib. “Let her sleep, Gem. No talking, got it?”
Not that Gem listened. The stupid computer never listened.
The second she walked out of the room, she heard, “ONCE UPON A TIME...” uttered in Gem’s version of a whisper. Dani groaned and headed for the kitchen to leave her mother instructions, along with Nick’s cell-phone number. As an afterthought she scrawled, “If you have a problem, tell Gem it’s a security one alert and the female offspring unit is deviating from normal behavior.”
As soon as Nick’s car pulled into the driveway, she greeted her mother with a quick hug and slid into the front seat. “So, what’s up?” she asked.
“Remember the Toy Company?”
“Sure. Kit and Stephen St. Clair’s business. They started down south in Carlsbad, then expanded and set up shop in Concord. We did their security system.”
“That’s the one.”
“What happened?”
“It seems their system’s gone haywire. They’ve called us in to correct the problem.”
Dani’s brows drew together. That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean by haywire?”
“I mean the system has shut everything down. Kit and Stephen are trapped in one of the offices and can’t break out.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It gets worse. They also have a day-care facility on the premises.”
Dani’s breath caught. “The children?”
“No one knows what’s happening to them. Everyone’s either locked in or locked out.”
“Which model did they purchase? I can’t remember.”
“A Gemini unit.” He slanted her a wry glance. “In case you’re unfamiliar with that one, it’s less sophisticated than Gem.”
“It may be less sophisticated, but I’ll bet it has every one of her bugs,” she muttered.
Of course, he heard. “Gem does not have bugs!”
“Oh, no? Then why was I force-fed Kenny G for two solid weeks?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Gem’s a computer. If you make a simple request, the computer obeys. It couldn’t be any easier.”
“If Gem’s just a computer, then why do you refer to her as ‘she’?”
“So I’ve anthropomorphized her.”
“Sounds painful.”
“It means—”
Dani held up her hands. “I don’t even want to know. Too kinky for my taste. And for your information, I do make simple requests. I make them all the time
. But she never obeys. Would you care to guess why?”
His jaw tightened. “It’s a computer glitch.”
“You’re such a man,” she scoffed. “It isn’t a computer glitch. It’s plain, old-fashioned jealousy.”
“What?”
“You heard me. She never listens to anyone but you—with the possible exception of the female offspring unit. She’s taken quite a shine to Abigail.”
“That’s because I programmed her to monitor the baby.”
“Oh, really? Did you also program her to talk to Abbey?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she goes in there and makes cooing noises.”
“Her voice modulator must have developed another hiccup.”
“A hiccup, huh? I guess that hiccup also explains the various Disney characters she imitates—not to mention the variety of music she’s determined the female offspring unit needs in order to sleep. Or the fairy tales she’s decided are essential bedtime stories. And in case you didn’t realize... Remember that three-minute alarm you set?”
“If Abigail cries for longer than three minutes, Gem is supposed to notify you? That one?”
“Right. That one. Well, Gem feels—”
“Gem can’t feel.” He bit out the words.
Dani snapped her fingers. “Silly me. I’ll rephrase. Gem has formed the undoubtedly logical and unemotional conclusion that three minutes is far too long for the female offspring unit to cry.”
“When does she notify you?” he asked warily.
“I believe she sounds the alarm at the exact instant Abbey draws breath to let out her first squeak. Next I’m sure Gem will anticipate the moment Abigail should cry and alert me then.”
Nick winced. “I’ll look into it.”
“Great. Now tell me that your precious Gem isn’t to blame for shutting down the Toy Company. After all, computers don’t run amok like they do in crazy science-fiction movies. And they certainly don’t make their own decisions or form crushes on their inventors or go all maternal over female offspring units.”
“No, they don’t,” he insisted through gritted teeth.
“Hmm. Didn’t think so.”
They pulled into the parking lot, which brought an abrupt end to their discussion. Employees milled outside the entranceway, occasionally attempting to tug open the front door. As Nick and Dani started down the sidewalk, a tall, lean man broke free from the group and approached. She vaguely remembered him being introduced as the head of Testing and Research.
