The Blue Link

by Carol Caiton

  Ignoring him she turned to Ethan. A growing circle of her co-workers had gathered, watching with open interest.

  "Let's just walk away," she said, catching hold of his arm. "Please, Ethan."

  But Ethan carefully dislodged her fingers and positioned himself between her and Bill. "Nina's affiliations aren't any of your business, whether they're with the public library, a sex club, or the Science Center."

  "Now that's where you're wrong. This law firm doesn't mix with pimps and whores." He shifted his eyes back to her. "So are you one of his whores?"

  In one lightning-fast move, Ethan's fist shot out and slammed into Bill's face, drawing a quick gush of blood.

  "Ethan! Oh, God!"

  Staggering back amid gasps and female shrieks, Bill grabbed his jaw and fought for balance. "You'll pay for that you sonofabitch."

  "What's going on here?" a new voice boomed over the chaos.

  Nina whirled to see Phillip Davidson striding toward them and a sense of doom settled over her.

  "Your bankruptcy attorney needs to learn how to conduct himself in polite company," Ethan growled, tugging the cuff of his shirt back into place.

  Phillip turned a startled glance on Bill Durrand who yanked his pocket square from his dinner jacket to staunch the cut on his mouth.

  "Nina's date," he snarled viciously, "is one of the owners of RUSH, Incorporated." He swept his free hand down the front of his jacket as though to dust off some unwanted filth.

  Again, Phillip was startled.

  "Did you have her checked out before hiring her?" Durrand asked.

  Ethan aimed a laser stare. "Whether he did or not, there are more circumspect ways of getting answers than verbally attacking a woman at a formal gathering and demanding to know if she's a whore."

  Dull, angry red crept into Bill's already flushed face and for a brief moment Nina saw hatred in his eyes. He'd stepped over the line tonight and he'd just been called on it, exposed, and dressed down in front of his boss and his peers.

  "I think we should discuss this elsewhere," Phillip said. "Let's take this to my study."

  * * *

  Ethan wanted to lash out. He'd known before clenching his fist that he was going to cost Nina her job and he'd still thrown that punch instead of walking away. Moreover, given the same circumstances, he'd do it again. He wanted to pound his fists into that sonofabitch and finish the job. And then he wanted to turn on this holier-than-thou asshole standing in front of him.

  Beating back the fury, he knew none of this would have happened if he hadn't insisted on coming with her tonight. So another layer of guilt joined the growing list of transgressions he now had to answer for. Sure, Durrand would have made a play for her. But she'd already handled the situation with a reasonable explanation. As long as she stuck to her story and claimed to be involved in a relationship, she would have been fine. And she'd still have a job.

  He looked down at her standing quietly beside him and noted her pale face, observed the telltale hand splayed across her stomach that told him she was trying to keep it together.

  Closing the few inches that separated them, he slid a protective arm around her and tucked her into his side. To hell with Davidson and his study. "If you'll excuse us, I think it's time I took Nina home."

  He offered no apology for his actions because he wasn't sorry for what he'd done. But he took a moment to address their hostess when she stepped forward from the edge of the crowd. "Janette, it was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for your hospitality."

  Then he steered a path toward the front of the house, aware of the murmuring of the other guests as he ushered Nina away. He retrieved her wrap, placed the fur across her shoulders, and was about to guide her outside when both Phillip and his wife appeared.

  "Nina?" Janette held out her hand. "I'm glad to have met you."

  "Thank you." Nina accepted the other woman's hand. "And thank you for inviting me."

  It surprised him though when she didn't offer an apology for the disturbance they'd caused. The disturbance he'd caused. He tried not to attach any significance to her omission, but Nina wasn't the sort to let a faux pas the size of Mount Rushmore go by, regardless of her own distress.

  It surprised him as well when Phillip stepped forward, extended a hand and said, "I'm sorry you felt the need to defend Nina from a guest here tonight." His handshake was firm. "And Nina, I apologize for the offensive behavior you were subjected to. We'll meet next week to talk about it." He walked them to the door. "Thank you for coming tonight. Both of you."

  The gracious host. Good manners may have dictated that pretty speech, but they wouldn't secure Nina's position at the office.

  Outside the temperature had dropped. It wasn't enough to bring on a layer of frost, but the biting chill burned his knuckles and that meant the adrenaline pumping through his system had tapered off enough for him to feel the sting of split skin.

  Sliding his palm beneath Nina's elbow, he led her down the steps. It didn't happen often, but he was at a loss for words. RUSH had become a shadow over his name. It had branded Nina with a lack of morals and integrity, regardless of her character and work ethic. How was he supposed to apologize for all that?

  He stood with her at the edge of the circular drive in silence, stared at the spewing fountain, and waited for his Audi to be brought around. When he felt her tremble, whether from cold or from delayed reaction, he slipped his arm around her. It was a balm to his own battered emotions when she turned her face into his chest and rested there as though drawing comfort from him.

  It wasn't until he felt her shudder and heard her quiet gasp for breath that he realized she was crying. But there was nothing he could do that would change what had happened and a small piece of him died with her tears.

  Wrapping his other arm around her, he held her in the cold quiet night. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He pressed an aching kiss into her hair. "I'm sorry."

  With a small sniff she pulled back enough to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Ethan. Nothing."

  He held her gaze. "You do realize you're going to lose your job, don't you?"

  "Yes, I know." Another tear slid down her face. "But you're not to blame. And neither is RUSH. It's just two opposing opinions. Liberal versus conservative. Right-wing versus left-wing."

  He brought her back into his arms as much to keep her warm as to hide his warring emotions and he wished he could take her home to his bed, love her, and hold her through the night.

  "Ethan?"

  "What is it sweetheart?"

  "Thank you. For all the times you've taken care of me."

  He closed his eyes, the last of his resistance drifting away. He was in love with her. Finally admitting it, however, changed nothing. How had it happened when he'd fought so hard to prevent it?

  He thought back to the night he met her, watching lines and color and form come together through the use of a piece of charcoal and a few pastels. He'd admired her talent and the patience she exercised while working to come up with the face of a man she'd never seen. He'd been intrigued by the degree to which she lost herself while immersed in the creative process and he'd been sucker-punched when her shawl slipped off her shoulders and her stunning little body had competed for attention.

  But it wasn't until the moment she realized the shawl was missing, when she looked down and saw how much of her body was exposed, that he was drawn to her . . . when she'd sought the shelter of Simon's arms, embarrassed and shy. In that moment, every man in the conference room wanted to be Simon, wanted to console and protect that innocence, to be the one who provided whatever comfort she needed. By Thanksgiving Day he'd known he was in trouble, and taking her to G's had only sealed his fate.

  He was tired of fighting it. Every day his defenses grew weaker while the need to pursue and claim her escalated. Something ugly twisted inside him when he thought about her link with Simon, and confining himself to one wing of the house while she occupied the other had become a p
rison sentence. He wanted more than a glimpse of her through the lens of a camera. He wanted more than a stolen night. More than a single dance.

  But the obstacles in his path were almost insurmountable. All the reasons he'd given her earlier were valid and complicated. Legal, emotional, and ethical, each carried a heavy price.

  The alternative though? Every way he looked at it, he'd have to sell his shares in RUSH and move on. Relocating ten miles across town wouldn't achieve anything if she married Simon. She'd be too close. He'd be too close. By the same token however, if he went up against that blue link and won, he wouldn't want Simon within a hundred miles of her.

  It was time to talk to his lawyers. He wanted an overview of the hurdles and consequences he could expect if he did this.

  "We need to talk, Nina. When we get home." The Audi came into view and he eased her away. "Put on something comfortable and come out to the living room."

  But she was shaking her head. "Not tonight. Can we talk tomorrow instead? I just want to go to bed."

  He wanted to say no. But she hadn't had an easy day despite her day at the R-link salon. He and Simon had all but declared open warfare, and now he'd not only ruined her evening, he'd killed her job.

  He, on the other hand, was starting to feel pretty damned good. Because every instinct he had told him she was falling in love with him as well. So he was going to challenge her blue link with Simon. He'd walked away from her for the last time.

  CHAPTER 46

  "Nina!" Lydia's voice communicated urgency through the telephone. "Where have you been?"

  Nina stared, bleary-eyed, at the digital numbers on the stovetop. Since it was Sunday morning and barely seven o'clock, it was too early for her to have been anywhere. "Sleeping, Lyd. I've been sleeping."

  "Yesterday! Where were you yesterday? I tried calling you all day and half the night."

  Nina closed her eyes. She wasn't ready to think about yesterday and she didn't want to think about last night. "I was at RUSH yesterday," she said.

  "Well what about the guy you're living with? Where was he? God, does he sound grouchy in the morning!"

  "Lydia, it's Sunday. You woke him up, too."

  "Yesterday!" her sister cried out again. "Where was he yesterday? Don't you two ever stay home?"

  Nina dragged her mind back to the day before when Ethan was supposed to have been watching television. "He was at RUSH, too," she said on a yawn.

  "Well it took him long enough to wake you up. But Nina . . . oh, God, Nina . . . I've got news."

  Her eyes flew open. "What news? What happened?"

  "Everyone's okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But, Nina! Someone paid off all my medical bills."

  Nina stared down at her bare feet and frowned. "What do you mean, someone paid off you medical bills?"

  "Just what I said! They're gone. Both hospitals, all the doctors . . . . Zero balance."

  "I— Who would do that? Are you sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure! And I don't know who did it. Dad paid the bills as usual, then Dr. Milner's office phoned to ask why he'd made another payment. Then, about an hour after that, one of the hospitals called."

  "You're serious."

  "Do I sound like I'm kidding? Dad took the next day off work to go find out what was going on."

  "And they told him someone paid everything off? Just like that?"

  "Just like that," Lydia confirmed. "Poof!"

  "What— Is there some sort of charity the does things like that?"

  "I have no idea. All we know is that it was handled through a law firm. All of it. That's all anyone could tell us."

  It was too much to assimilate all at once. No more medical bills. They'd been a dark monster of a cloud over their lives for so long, the sudden absence of them seemed like someone's cruel joke. "Lydia . . . ." But words failed her.

  "I know," her sister whispered. "I know! Mom spent half the day yesterday staring into space. And Dad looks just as dazed."

  "I don't understand. Who—" But the rest of the question caught in her throat.

  Why are you doing this?

  Because you won't talk to me anywhere else.

  Why are you doing this?

  Because I'm fighting for my future.

  Simon?

  The last time he'd wanted her to come to him he'd spent hundreds of dollars on art supplies. He hadn't even known her then. This time . . . .

  "Lydia, I have the go."

  "We just started talking."

  "I'll call you back later."

  "But— You sound funny. Are you okay?"

  "I'm not awake yet."

  "You sure?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. You won't forget to call?"

  "No."

  Her hand shook as she hung up the receiver.

  It was too much to take in. The combined total of Lydia's medical bills would buy a very comfortable three-bedroom house. Simon couldn't have that much faith in the linking system, could he? No one in his right mind would give away that much money just because a computer program predicted sunshine, wedding bells, and happy-ever-after.

  "Is everything all right?"

  She jumped.

  Ethan stood in the doorway looking rumpled and half asleep. His chest was bare, his jeans unbuttoned and riding low on his hips, and she could have stared at him for half an hour.

  "Nina?"

  Something niggled at the back of her mind.

  Do you have a sister named Lydia?

  My sister, Lydia, is disabled.

  Tell me about your sister.

  Was you sister disabled at birth?

  Not Simon, she realized. No, not Simon at all. She felt a little lightheaded.

  "What is it?" he demanded, starting toward her. "What happened?"

  She grabbed onto the counter. "Nothing. I— That was Lydia. My sister."

  "I know who it was. I answered the damned phone, remember?" He put an arm around her waist and began walking her toward the table. "What did she say that upset you?"

  "Nothing. She didn't say anything. Everyone's okay."

  "Is that why you're white as a sheet? Here. Sit down."

  She sat.

  "Now tell me what she said."

  "Nothing. Lydia didn't say anything. She just, uh, made me think of something."

  He scowled. "Stay there. I'll put the coffee on."

  She followed him with her eyes, watched him stuff a filter into the coffeemaker and reach for the grounds.

  "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  She raised her eyes to his. "Like what?"

  "Like you're afraid I might poison the coffee."

  "Poison the— Is that what I look like?"

  "At least it snapped you out of that daze."

  She didn't answer. She didn't know what to say.

  "Nina, we need to talk."

  She squeezed her eyes shut. "No. I don't want to talk."

  God, did that sound juvenile? She opened them again.

  "Honey—"

  "I just want to drink some coffee. In fact," she pushed away from the table, "I think I'd better get my coffee at Magnolias."

  Her legs shook when she stood up. But she couldn't stay here. She couldn't think here. "Thank you for waking me up to take Lydia's call."

  * * *

  Ethan stared after her, at her dark hair swaying about her shoulders, at the miniscule robe brushing the tops of her thighs. Her bare feet padded across the slate then out of sight. She was heading for RUSH at this hour?

  Why wouldn't she talk with him? What did she think he was going to say? What was she afraid of? He looked over at the telephone and narrowed his eyes. What had Lydia called to talk about at the crack of dawn?

  * * *

  "I'll have you know," Libby paused, yawning into the telephone, "I'm talking to you with my eyes closed and I'm not planning to open them. And I'm not coming down to have breakfast with you unless you have something juicy to talk about."

  "That's blackma
il."

  "Sure is, sweetie. You've been keeping me in suspense. So, are you going to talk or am I going back to sleep?"

  "Libby—"

  "No whining."

  Nina stared at the glass casing around the house phone and shifted her weight to the other foot.

  "I'm falling asleep here, Nina . . . ."

  "Geez, Libby! All right. But this—heck, I don't even know if it's true."

  "You don't know if what's true?"

  "I'll tell you when you come down. But it's confidential."

  "And now I'm insulted. You know very well I haven't told a soul anything we've ever talked about."

  "You're right. I'm sorry." Nina sighed. "It's just that . . . I think Ethan paid off my sister's medical bills."

  Silence stretched over the connection.

  "Libby?"

  "Give me five minutes."

  It only took three. And one look at Libby told Nina she'd been had.

  Already dressed, looking as though she'd just come from the R-link salon, every one of Libby's curls bounced in unison as she scurried toward the gate. Obviously she'd been up for a while.

  "That was mean," Nina told her. Still, if she'd been thinking clearly, she would have remembered the weekend wasn't over and Sunday was one of RUSH's busiest days.

  Libby flashed a smile. "It worked."

  "It was still mean. You've got a devious streak."

  Libby slipped her arm through Nina's and started them toward the food court. "I'll have you know that was pure spur-of-the-moment inspiration. We'll find a nice corner table where no one can hear us and you can tell me why you keep looking over your shoulder as though you think the FBI is on your trail. Then, after that, I want to hear about Ethan and your sister's medical bills."

  Magnolias was crowded. There were no corner tables available and only two, smack dab in the center of the dining room, were unoccupied.

  "We can weather the cold and sit outside," Libby said.

  Nina scanned the tables then shook her head. "No. Anything we talk about will be muffled by everyone else talking."

  Libby nodded. She waited until they were seated then scooted her chair close to Nina's. "Okay. Now tell me what you're afraid of."