The Blue Link

by Carol Caiton

  "Or is it drunken men that appeal to you?" he taunted.

  Disappointment, sorrow, and disillusionment. Three separate wounds to prove how foolish her hope had been. He'd neither turned around nor looked over his shoulder, which meant he'd seen her reflection in the small panes of glass. How long had he known she stood there watching him?

  "Dinner's ready," she said, ignoring his sarcasm.

  In return, he ignored her announcement. "Or maybe it's my bed you're interested in. Just say the word, honey. I've been told I'm very, very good."

  It shouldn't hurt. But it did. It was yet another blow.

  She turned around and walked away, leaving him with his hateful liquor. She walked out of his bedroom, away from his wing of the house, and headed for her own.

  Two steps into the hallway, however, she stopped, spun around, and marched back into the kitchen.

  Yanking open the cabinet beneath the sink, she grabbed a bar of soap. Then she snatched up the sticky pad beside his landline phone and the pen on top of it.

  * * *

  Ethan stared at the empty doorway for long seconds. Then he shut his eyes and waited for the regret to subside. It would take longer this time. After today, short and easy was in the past.

  He's a good man. He's a very good man.

  Goddamn it.

  He opened his eyes, raked a hand through his hair, and turned back to stare at the yard he paid a small fortune to maintain. What had started out as mischievous goading on his part had been remarkably easy to perpetuate. He liked her. She played well. He even enjoyed the way she expressed her irritation, and that was something he'd never experienced with anyone. From the Peanuts comic strip she'd left beside his plate to the slap of her hand on his credit card, she piqued something inside him that begged a response. And when he responded she resisted, which invited further provocation, and the cycle gained momentum until it seemed almost self-sustaining. His grandmother thought it was a game of cat-and-mouse, but he hadn't been chasing. Not in the sense she meant. Not at first. He'd merely wanted to get a rise out of Nina so he could enjoy her next reaction, and the one after that.

  But he'd kept the game alive even knowing he enjoyed it too much . . . enjoyed her too much. He should have pulled back but he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to. And when G questioned the bruise on her face, he never should have touched her. He shouldn't have been anywhere near her. He'd been vacillating between semi-arousal and a full hard-on for hours.

  But G's question had revived memories Nina hadn't been braced for. Offering support, letting her know he was at her side had been a natural, spontaneous reaction. He hadn't given a thought to the erection behind his zipper. Hell, she had the body of an R-link so it was a natural, expected response. He'd been turned on by her before and he would be again. But it hadn't occurred to him that she might discover it.

  When she had, and when a large part of him was glad she had, he'd compounded his sins by waiting for her to recognize that someone other than Simon wanted her. Yes, he'd even wanted her to realize she could walk away from a blue link that was more off than on. Hell.

  The enormity of his betrayal, the violation of trust and conscience, had driven him out of the house. Anger—at himself, then at Nina—assailed him. Why the hell was Simon a thousand miles away at a time when his link was on shaky ground? Why hadn't he resolved the issues between him and Nina as soon as they arose?

  Recalling the morning she'd walked into Admin, demanding to know where Michael was, Simon's lack of attentiveness had confounded him then as well. The swelling and discoloration on her face had stunned him—stunned them all. That Michael's elbow hadn't fractured her jaw was astounding. But just as baffling was Simon's indifference. Had the dynamics been different, all seven of them would have been beside her in an instant. But they'd been waiting for a cue from Simon—a cue that never came. Why?

  At his grandmother's he'd reentered the house instead of getting into his car and driving away for a while. He'd left Nina in the kitchen to deal with the fallout and G was no fool. His grandmother, for all her seventy-five years, was an astute woman. And that high-tech hearing aid wouldn't have missed a whisper.

  If Ethan's mother stole his capacity for love and trust, then you gave it back to him. You loved him well I think, and he learned that from you.

  The poignancy of those words had wrapped around him and gently squeezed. He was falling for her. Falling for Simon's woman. A deplorable weakness on his part and a dangerous one for RUSH.

  The garage door glided open, the faint sound resonating through the house. He stiffened and listened. Then he sprinted for the front door. Where was she going at this time of night? It was Thanksgiving. Nothing much was open.

  He made it to the porch in time to watch the taillights of her car sweep around the corner. Muttering a curse, he whipped out his cell phone and stepped back inside. Then he remembered he had no way of reaching her.

  Frustrated, he cursed again. About to slip the phone back into his pocket, he noticed the ringtone had been switched to the OFF position. Scowling, he turned it back on and checked his voicemail. He had one message. It was from his grandmother. Sighing, he played it back.

  "Ethan, it's G. I should have known you'd be occupied."

  He visualized her smile and knew what she thought he was occupied doing.

  "I like her, Ethan. Very much. Thank you for bringing her to dinner and thank you for the lovely flower arrangement. Call me back with her address so I can send a note. You've chosen well, son. She's perfect for you . . . ."

  Son.

  Somehow she'd known when he finally accepted that his permanent home would be with her and his grandfather. She was right. It had taken two years. And almost to the day, she'd begun calling him son. He'd grown up in the house she still lived in. She'd given him his father's old bedroom, along with the few things still inside the closet that had belonged to him. Then she and his grandfather had shouldered the responsibilities of raising yet another child.

  You've chosen well.

  They were the same words he'd thought in reference to Simon.

  Returning the phone to his pocket, he stood in the foyer and listened to the surrounding silence. Nina's absence could be felt. She was like an unexpected breeze that stirred up the air. When she wasn't around, it went still again.

  Simon needed to come back to Florida. Now. Tonight. He needed to talk to her, make her listen, and convince her she'd been off the mark the night he'd taken her to bed. Christ, he didn't want to think about that.

  Making his way to the kitchen, he went directly to the sink. The whiskey he'd intentionally dribbled onto the counter had been wiped away. That meant she'd seen it and chances were good she'd assumed exactly what he intended.

  He walked over to the table, prepared to sit down before a cold dinner, then pulled up short when he spotted the yellow sticky note beside his plate. Continuing on, he saw it was attached to . . . a bar of soap? He grinned. Then he chuckled.

  For your foul mouth.

  When the house was silent again he forced himself to think of Simon. He thought about Malcolm and the others. He thought about RUSH. But none of it helped.

  CHAPTER 30

  Simon made a decision. By Monday afternoon Nina would own a cell phone. He'd buy her a prepaid, long-term service contract and make sure she could recharge the phone in her car as well as at home. How she'd gotten by this long without one, he didn't know. Working for a busy real estate franchise, how could she not have needed one?

  Whatever the answer to that, it frustrated him when he called Ethan's landline for the third time and no one picked up. It was Black Friday so she could be out shopping. But he'd been trying since noon and now it was nearly time for dinner. She wasn't at RUSH, either. He knew because he was seated behind his desk and Security had just informed him that Millering, Nina wasn't on property.

  Replacing the receiver, he leaned back in his chair. He hadn't expected to be on property himself. He was supposed to be in New Yor
k for a four-day weekend. But a call from Germany had interrupted Thanksgiving dessert and his parents had prepared for an impromptu trip. Not surprising, but it had been oddly disappointing because the short span of time he'd spent with them had been unusually amenable.

  His mother, ever the efficient corporate wife, had scurried off to oversee the packing of their bags and within a couple of hours, every detail had been taken care of. Consequently, with nothing to keep him there, Simon stayed the night, then he'd flown back to Florida.

  Phoning Ethan's house as soon as the plane landed, he'd hoped to catch Nina. He'd driven home, unpacked, then he'd walked three doors down to ring the doorbell but no one answered. He didn't want to think they were together, but he couldn't dismiss the possibility either.

  At home again he'd made himself a late lunch. He'd phoned Ethan's cell, was switched over to voicemail, and disconnected.

  Restless, unsettled, he'd gotten back in his car and driven to RUSH. An annoying sense of urgency kept intruding on his thoughts. He wanted to see Nina. He wanted this latest misunderstanding behind them. She owed him an apology, but he owed her one as well and he wanted the whole mess smoothed out.

  He decided to have dinner at Gabriel's then head back home. He left the administrative building and, as usual, took note of the crowd on the main walkway. The overwhelming majority of clients were male and that ratio was more noticeable today. Not many women were on property. But Christmas wasn't far off. Black Friday shopping could have lured Nina and a high percentage of female clients to the malls.

  Nevertheless, he spotted Hannah Breckenridge as he approached the food court. Her long blonde hair drew the eye, but he lowered his gaze to her curves. During the day a pair of dark sunglasses hid the direction of a man's attention, negating the need for discretion. He kept a pair in his desk for that specific reason and the full womanly roundness of Hannah's breasts had given him a hard-on more than once during the past two years.

  She was too far away to note the direction of his gaze and now that he thought about it, he wondered why she was on property. The admin building was closed for the holiday and she, being one of RUSH's seventeen virginal females, wouldn't be here for an encounter. He followed her with his eyes until she turned toward Urns & Leaves, opened the door, and was lost from view.

  Continuing on toward Gabriel's, his gaze landed on yet another familiar acquaintance. Dressed in royal blue slacks, a matching bustier and black blazer, Kaylene Woodrow sat alone at an outdoor table. Domino in place, her short coppery hair stood spiked in every direction. It was a style she'd never think of wearing on the job but here at RUSH . . . . She spotted him as well, smiled, and he signaled the maitre d' before making his way over.

  "Hello, Kay."

  "Simon."

  "Am I interrupting?"

  She smiled and gestured toward the opposite chair. "What a tactful way of asking a woman if she's alone. Please join me."

  He did, glad for the company. When the wine steward approached, he nodded toward her glass. "Would you like another?"

  "Yes I would, thank you."

  He ordered for them both then settled comfortably in his seat. "How have you been?" He hadn't seen her since the night she and Nina put together the face of Serena Mandek's killer.

  "I'm well. Enjoying an extended weekend. Luckily the weather's cooperating."

  As was the case with Hannah, he was surprised to see her here. But he didn't ask questions. Their prior association had been sexual. Amber. And they'd been well suited. He liked and respected her as a public figure, but they didn't have a relationship conducive to personal inquiries.

  "Actually," she said, "I've been hoping to bump into you. I wanted to thank you for your gift of a complimentary membership. I plan to use it at every opportunity."

  "Glad to hear it. You're always welcome here."

  "I understand your murderer is behind bars now."

  He nodded. "Thanks to you."

  Their drinks arrived so she waited until they were alone before speaking again. "Thank you for keeping my identity from the police."

  He lifted his glass but paused. "Once they knew where to look, the case produced enough evidence on its own. Legally though, we're bound by contract to protect the privacy of our clients."

  She gave him a wry look. "You think that would stand up to a case of homicide?"

  He shrugged. "It's a moot point now. But contracts and policy never became an issue. The police were able to obtain a warrant and it turned up enough evidence for an arrest."

  She was silent for a moment, smoothing her finger along the stem of her wine glass. "You know, Simon," her eyes wandered around the food court, "for all the men you have here, your computer system seems to have a difficult time linking me."

  "You can't be serious."

  "Oh, but I am."

  She was an attractive woman, closer to forty than thirty-five. But if there was a gray hair anywhere on her body, it was expertly disguised. Her skin was smooth and firm, she was slender, healthy, and adventurous—a perfect match for the majority of men at RUSH.

  She studied him thoughtfully, the eyes behind her mask fixed on his. "I was disappointed when you withdrew from our link."

  The words were softly spoken and carefully measured. Very carefully, he thought.

  But her eyes suggested a wealth of meaning that required no effort to interpret. She was treading dangerous territory, particularly so considering who he was. Strict bylaws prohibited the sort of interaction her eyes implied. But she watched him, waiting.

  Other unlinked clients probably met outside the walls of RUSH, and he was tempted. Hers had been one of the two amber folders he'd given up when he accepted Nina's blue icon. He had no problem remembering the feel of her, the heat of her body beneath his. And he'd been uncomfortably celibate for a while now.

  A slow, seductive smile curved her lips. "Oh, my. Please tell me where you've wandered off to."

  Not a chance. "It's not important," he said, ready to put an end to this conversation.

  "I disagree."

  "Kay . . . ." He let the rest of his admonition drift to silence. She probably knew about his blue link. All of RUSH seemed to be aware of it now. And she'd seen him with Nina. But if she was having trouble acquiring a link, it explained why, in the past, she'd renewed theirs twice. On the one hand, she didn't travel to Orlando all that often, but his association with her had been consistent.

  "If the system has trouble linking you," he said, "it's probably because your need for anonymity is analyzed against each client's familiarity with public figures. We have a sophisticated membership, Kay. People are politically savvy. They know who their representatives are."

  Deliberately, he allowed his gaze to drift down to the swell of her breasts then up again and smiled. "I doubt there's a man in all of RUSH who wouldn't seize the opportunity to link with you."

  With elegant grace she accepted his rebuff. "That's a lovely thing to say. Thank you."

  "It's the truth."

  * * *

  Nina pressed the remote Ethan had given her and steered her car into the garage. It had been a good day. An exceptional day really. And now that she thought about it, with each week that had passed since leaving home, something inside her felt a little lighter, a little freer. It wasn't that living on her own was easy. Every day seemed to bring new problems, more decisions to be made, and a lot of soul-searching contemplation. But the flip side of that included undreamed of experiences, newfound confidence, and this unexpected lessening of a burden she'd carried for years. Not that she was prepared to confess that to Lydia.

  After everything she'd learned today and grasping the full extent of her sister's manipulation, it would be a long while yet before she'd hand out a few breadcrumbs. She was having trouble just taking in the scope of everything her sister had done. She'd played God with Nina's life for heaven's sake, and not just Nina's.

  As they often had when Nina worked close to downtown, they'd had lunch together at
the park. But Nina had no sooner told Lydia she'd be starting a new job than her sister drew back in anger.

  "What do you mean you got a job? You left RUSH?"

  "Yes, I—"

  "How could you! How could you do that?"

  But she didn't give Nina the opportunity to answer.

  "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to pile more and more guilt on your shoulders?"

  "What?"

  "Do you honestly believe I can live life through your experiences? That if you went to RUSH and had incredible sex with a hundred guys that I'd be able to enjoy it too?"

  "But you—"

  "I know what I said. And I made sure you understood it the way I wanted you to. Yes, I miss sex. I miss walking too, but that doesn't mean I can feel the sidewalk under my feet when I watch you get out of the car. Geez!"

  "What are you saying, Lyd?" She'd brought a turkey sandwich to the park. Now she set it aside.

  Regret shadowed her sister's eyes. "You and I . . . the guilt we live with is a vicious disease eating at our souls, Nina. You can't bring yourself to let go of the blame for what happened, and I can't stand watching you punish yourself anymore. I just can't." She lifted one hand in a helpless gesture. "You're stronger than I am."

  "But I'm not. How can you say that?"

  "Because it's true. I made you think I could share in your experiences . . . your emotions . . . because it was the only way I could get you to live. God, Nina, you wouldn't date, you wouldn't even buy a bottle of nail polish because you thought you didn't deserve it. That kind of guilt . . . ." She shook her head. "I couldn't live with it anymore."

  "So you lied to me?"

  "I lied, I complained, and I deliberately made you feel guilty—more guilty—so you'd feel sorry for me and do some of the things I thought you should—things you should have been enjoying all along."

  "And you thought RUSH was something I'd enjoy? That having sex with a different man every day was something I should have been doing?"