The Blue Link

by Carol Caiton

  She nodded. "All right." She took a bracing breath. "So, what do you do—file away little bits of information, piece them together, then use them as ammunition?"

  He took it as the lighthearted question it was meant to be. A slow smile reached his eyes. "Doesn't everyone?"

  She shook her head. "Fine. You win."

  "I like winning."

  "Of course you do."

  Men.

  Since the day she moved to RUSH she'd had to deal with men who seemed to thrive on challenges, men who thought so quickly on their feet, she had to scramble to keep up. Didn't they ever just want to relax and enjoy the scenery?

  "Give me a few minutes to change my clothes," she told him.

  "You look fine."

  "I'm not wearing my old jeans to your grandmother's house."

  "My grandmother won't—"

  "And I want to stop somewhere on the way to buy flowers," she cut in.

  He smiled an incredibly appealing smile and said, "We can do that."

  She nodded, a little dazzled. "Good." Then she turned and started down the hall toward her room.

  * * *

  The nicest things in her closet had come from RUSH, of course. But the most appropriate things she owned had been bought in preparation for her new job.

  She reached for a pair of navy blue dress slacks, then a white pullover sweater. The sweater fitted snugly across her chest, but that was expected now. It was an ordinary everyday sweater with a crew neck and long sleeves and she'd bought it at the mall. A set of faux pearl earrings went nicely with it, and she slipped on a narrow gold chain with its small cartouche that, she was told, symbolized happiness. She fluffed her hair as she'd been taught, added a touch of blush to disguise what was left of the bruise on her face, and grabbed her purse.

  Ethan was talking on the phone when she walked back into the kitchen. He stopped in mid-sentence, long enough for his eyes to sweep down the length of her body, back up again, and pause momentarily on her breasts. Then he turned away, giving her his back, and continued with his conversation.

  Not sure what to make of that, she decided not to let it bother her. If he disapproved of her attire, she was sure he wouldn't hesitate to say so.

  But he barely glanced at her when he finished his call. "Ready?" he asked, pulling his keys from his pants pocket.

  "Yes."

  "Let's go then."

  He opened the utility door and waited for her to precede him into the garage, then waited again until she was comfortable in the Audi's passenger seat before closing her in. Walking around to the driver's side, he tossed his jacket into the back, then angled in behind the wheel.

  "Where does your grandmother live?" she asked when they left Isleworth behind.

  "A subdivision up in Longwood. About forty-five minutes in normal traffic."

  "Will you take me for a ride in your Hummer before I move out?"

  He gave her a quick sidelong glance. "We could have taken it today if I'd known you were interested."

  Maybe she'd ask some other time. But then, it wasn't likely they'd travel anywhere else together. It wasn't as though they were friends. She was his business partner's blue link. Sort of. And she was a temporary roommate who happened to be a convenient fill-in for the girl he'd planned to introduce to his grandmother.

  He steered the Audi up the on-ramp and merged with traffic on I--.

  "Do you know of a florist's shop in Longwood?" she asked.

  "I'll find one."

  He didn't seem to want conversation so she stared out the window. Usually she was too occupied with traffic herself to be able to look at the city and see how much Orlando was growing. During the past few years, new skyscrapers reached heavenward and she was able to pick out the one where the offices of Davidson, Davidson & Bligh resided. She didn't know yet if she'd have a view of the city from her desk but she hoped so.

  She paid attention when Ethan turned off the highway at Longwood. He pulled into a quaint-looking shopping plaza where old established shade trees shielded the flowerbeds from a weak November sun. The parking lot was all but empty but she spotted a flower shop just ahead. He'd probably known all along that it was there.

  They walked to the entrance where he held the door for her and she gave him an appreciative smile. Then she breathed in the cool fragrant air. It reminded her of the lobby in the R-link complex and she felt a pang of reminiscence.

  She tried not to think of the money she was about to spend. Flowers were expensive and her funds were running dangerously low. The money she had on hand had been earmarked for gas the following week and for those minor, unforeseen necessities that had a tendency to pop up. Unfortunately, the cost of flowers wasn't minor. She couldn't bring herself, however, to settle on the least expensive arrangement for the grandmother of a man who lived in Isleworth.

  The middle-aged woman behind the counter was helpful without being overbearing, which Nina liked. They discussed color and vases and Nina decided on a holiday assortment.

  Ethan remained silent in the background. But when she dug in her purse for her wallet, he nudged her aside and reached in his back pocket for his billfold.

  She put a staying hand on his arm. "They're my flowers."

  He pulled the wallet out anyway. "I've got it."

  "No. It was my idea."

  "And you wouldn't be buying them if I wasn't taking you to my grandmother's house." He placed a credit card on the counter.

  Nina slapped her palm down on top of the card, then slid it back toward the edge of the counter. She fished forty dollars out of her wallet and extended the money toward the florist.

  Ethan snatched the bills out of her fingers before the other woman lifted a hand. Then he snagged her other wrist, took back his credit card, and stuffed the bills into her palm.

  Flashing that charming smile he seemed to pull up at will, he faced the florist and handed her the card. "She's my grandmother. And I have plenty of occasions to buy flowers for her."

  The woman chuckled and took Ethan's card.

  Nina latched onto his arm, stretched up on her toes, and grumbled in his ear, "That was an underhanded bribe."

  He turned that smile on her. "It was an honest fact."

  "You as good as told her you'd buy more flowers from this shop if she accepted your credit card."

  "Is that what I did? Well, since I already buy flowers at this shop every time I drive up for a visit, it wasn't much of a bribe, was it?"

  Nina released his arm. He could probably buy an entire nursery if he wanted one. Turning a critical eye on the arrangement she'd chosen, it suddenly appeared small and insufficient. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly.

  "Because these flowers were your idea. I wanted you to choose something you wanted to give. When I stop here, I buy a single yellow rose with a fern and some of those little white bud things."

  "Baby's breath," she informed him. But she felt better now—about the holiday arrangement anyway.

  The florist smiled and said, "Here's your receipt, Ethan.

  "Thanks, Stacey." He slid it into his wallet, and said, "Nina, get the flowers." Then he headed for the door.

  Pressing her lips together, Nina gathered up the vase of flowers and followed after him. Outside the shop she held out the forty dollars. "Please take this."

  "No."

  "Ethan—"

  "No."

  Awkwardly she folded the bills and folded them again. Then she caught up to him as he reached for the passenger door and she tried to push the money into his pocket.

  He stopped short and turned. "Honey, you put your hand in my pants pocket and you're going to get a hell of a lot more than forty dollars back."

  She stared.

  His eyes glittered, almost daring her to try it.

  For a moment they stood staring at one another, neither of them moving. Then he nodded once, reached for the door again, and opened it. "Time to go."

  Confused but not understanding why, she balanced the a
rrangement and climbed in. When the door closed she sat in silence, trying to figure out what she'd seen in his eyes.

  "Seatbelt."

  She jerked to attention.

  "Here. Give me the flowers."

  She handed them over, fastened her seatbelt, then took them back. She'd wait until they were home, then leave the money on the kitchen table.

  "And if I happen to find forty dollars on the kitchen table, or anywhere else in the house, I'll stuff it back inside your purse," he said, thwarting her plan as soon as it came to mind.

  Perturbed, she decided not to speak to him for the rest of the drive. However, it took fewer than five minutes to turn into an older, well-established neighborhood.

  Just ahead, four teenage boys tossed a football back and forth then scattered toward the sidewalk as the Audi approached. Farther down, a man raked yard leaves while a little girl pedaled her tricycle back and forth in front of the house. Three streets after that, Ethan turned a corner and pulled into the driveway of a nicely landscaped, single-story house. On the far side of a green lawn that defied the season's lack of rain, two birds fluttered away from a birdbath. During the summer the whole area would be heavily shaded by a group of thick maple trees.

  Nina hadn't known what to expect, but a stately mansion occupied by a regal, stern-faced grande dame would have been less surprising than this comfortable, middle-class home. If Ethan had inherited his millions of dollars, they hadn't come from this side of the family and that thought eased some of her nervousness.

  She waited while he turned off the engine, got out, and came to open her door. Now that she thought about it, neither his nor Simon's wealth had actually awed her to the point of intimidation. Maybe that was because she was too busy arguing with them, both of them, and trying to hold her own in the face of dominant male aggression.

  "Now that's the gentleman I hoped you'd grow up to be!"

  Nina looked toward the front porch and saw a woman wearing a deep red cardigan, a pale blue blouse beneath, and dark slacks. Her gray hair, styled in a short cut, still had sprinkles of dark brown and she looked ten or more years younger than the seventy-five Ethan had mentioned earlier. She gave her grandson a sparkling smile, and he appeared quite happy to soak up any attention she cared to dole out.

  "Some gentleman," Nina mumbled to herself. "More like stubborn and bossy."

  A delighted laugh sounded from the porch. "Oh, young lady, you and I are going to get on very well!"

  Shocked, Nina quickly measured the distance across the yard to the approaching woman. They were a good twenty feet apart.

  "I bought a new hearing aid," she said, tapping her right ear with a finger. "I might just buy another for the left side."

  Utterly embarrassed, Nina looked down at the flowers, then across the street, and finally at Ethan who stood grinning at his grandmother with devoted affection.

  "You're a troublemaker, G."

  He walked over, enveloped the much shorter woman in an embrace, then released her and stepped aside. "G, this is Nina Millering. Nina, my grandmother, Georgiana Vale."

  Nina tightened her left hand around the vase and held out her right. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Vale." At least she wouldn't have to answer to a name that wasn't her own.

  "G, Nina. Call me G. And you're absolutely right. Ethan is bossy and stubborn. But he comes by it naturally—through his grandfather, of course."

  Ethan laughed. "Of course."

  Then, as though he did it all the time, he slid an arm around Nina's waist. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you inside out of the cold."

  Nina felt her mouth drop open. About to pull away, she caught herself in time and paused, tucked against his side. If this display of affection was for the older woman's benefit, she'd better follow his lead. Casting a quick, uncertain glance toward his grandmother, she received a warm smile and tried to return it.

  Starting up the walkway, she looked up at Ethan and found him grinning down at her, eyes full of satisfaction.

  She stopped walking.

  He stopped as well, still grinning.

  Eyeing him suspiciously, she tried to figure out if this pretense was for his grandmother's benefit, or if it was payback for the bully comment . . . or maybe for the comic strip she'd left beside his plate. Whatever the reason, his satisfied grin settled the matter.

  Stepping out of his grasp, she scurried forward and saw a nearly identical smile on his grandmother's face.

  "Giving you a hard time, is she Ethan? Come on up here and walk with me, Nina."

  "She's just a little skittish, G."

  "I'm not skittish at all, Mrs. Vale. —G," she corrected herself. "It's called passive-aggressive retaliation and I'm letting your grandson know he's pushing his luck."

  His grandmother slipped an arm through Nina's. "I have a feeling this is going to be an especially enjoyable day."

  "It's the flowers, G," Ethan said from Nina's other side and she nearly stumbled.

  "Oh. Yes." She'd completely forgotten the flowers. "These are for you. Happy Thanksgiving."

  "Why thank you."

  "They were Nina's idea," Ethan pointed out, reaching around her shoulder to open the front door.

  "Well it's a lovely idea. Let's put them on the table."

  Nina followed the older woman into an ordinary, average-sized foyer. The wall on her left was adorned with framed photographs. On her right was the living room, formal yet inviting because of the vibrant tropical print on the sofa and matching chair. Just beyond the foyer a large entryway opened to the dining room, formal again, yet the bamboo furniture encouraged casual dining. The table had already been set and Ethan's grandmother led them inside.

  "Hold these for me, will you Nina?"

  She passed the vase of flowers over then removed the bowl of fruit at the center of the table. Setting it on a nearby buffet, she said, "Go ahead and put them there. They'll look so much nicer than this."

  No sooner had Nina leaned forward, placing the flowers in the opening, than Ethan stepped in behind her, not quite touching, but blocking her with his big body.

  "A little more to the left, I think," he said, slipping one hand to her waist as he leaned in and moved the vase no more than an inch.

  Nina batted at his wrist. "Cut it out," she whispered.

  He grinned down at her, gave a little squeeze at her waist, and dropped his hand.

  "Smells great, G," he said. But he remained where he was, caging her between the table and his body.

  His grandmother eyed them and shook her head. "Nina, sweetheart, the harder you run the more interesting the chase. Ethan, give the girl some space."

  He inhaled and Nina felt his chest expand. Still, he obeyed his grandmother and moved aside.

  His outrageous behavior didn't stop though. A touch here, a deceptively helping hand there . . . . When his grandmother asked Nina to carry the wine glasses to the table, Ethan was right behind her with the ice bucket. When she took over the task of peeling potatoes, he ran a hand up her back and gave her shoulder a quick appreciative squeeze. When he touched her the next time, however, the hug he gave was way too affectionate, just to get a rise out of her, she suspected. So she gave it to him by way of an elbow to the ribs. Of course he returned that with a wicked grin and the afternoon became one long continuation of the game he'd started.

  Once dinner was ready, she helped carry the food to the dining room. But Ethan caught her arm, pulling her to a stop as she turned back toward the kitchen.

  Looking up, she fully expected another of his mischievous games, but there was no laughter in his eyes this time, no taunting grin.

  "Thank you," he murmured.

  It caught her aback. She was familiar with his temper, his taunts, even the stern chief of security. But the man who held her eyes now, meeting her gaze with warm sincerity, contrasted so strongly with the familiar, she couldn't look away.

  He lifted his other hand, smoothed his thumb over the bruise on her cheek, and the gentl
eness, the tinge of regret she saw, melted something in her heart.

  About to smile and lean into that hand, she caught herself and stilled. "You're welcome," she murmured in return.

  The affection that warmed his eyes took her breath. God!

  She stepped back and his hand fell to his side.

  What was wrong with her? This was Ethan. He was thanking her for going along with his games. Or maybe it was for helping his grandmother. The older woman might look years younger than seventy-five, but her fingers were slightly gnarled with arthritis.

  "Ethan, come get the turkey, will you?"

  "On my way."

  CHAPTER 29

  Something shifted as he left her side to help with the turkey. Staring at the flower arrangement in the middle of the table, she tried again to figure out what had happened. For a few brief seconds she'd seen the warm caring man who now buried himself behind a blockade anger. During the past hour his playful teasing had reminded her of the person she'd seen when she'd first moved to RUSH—the one who teased and flirted with the pretty receptionist. She'd liked that man on sight, before ever knowing who he was, and a moment ago she'd been drawn to him. Was it because he'd focused all that teasing attention on her today? The game, the show of affection . . . for a minute they'd merged and become real. God, another potent male. And what a fool the other girl had been to give him up.

  "Nina?"

  His deep male voice pulled her back to the present and she saw he was holding her chair, waiting for her to sit down.

  "Sorry. I was lost in thought."

  Lowering herself onto the cushion, she felt his hand lightly squeeze her shoulder before his grandmother entered, the apron she'd donned now gone.

  Ethan held her chair as well, then took his own place at the head of the table.

  "Do you work, Nina?" G asked as they passed around the various dishes.

  "Yes. I'll be starting on Monday as bookkeeper for a law firm downtown."

  "A new job?"

  "Yes." She mentioned the name of the real estate agency where she used to work and said, "I took care of the books there for two years."

  "Ready for a change, were you?"