One Sizzling Night

by Jo Leigh

  “Petrichor,” she said, happy she’d remembered the name.

  “Am I supposed to make up a word now? Quomalin.”

  “No. Petrichor is the scent of the earth after a rain shower.”

  “Really? That’s an excellent word. And you’re right. That is what we’re smelling.” He turned his head toward the wall. “Good job, scent computer.”

  “Oh, you think it hears you? Dear God, I’ll never make another sound.”

  “I think it’s pretty safe.”

  She didn’t have a ton of experience with men. She had too much to hide to let herself get too close to anyone. But if she could, she would like to have more of this. Of him. Maybe in New York?

  It would be foolish to become invested in that idea, though.

  “Where did you find your love of art?” he asked. “Boarding school?”

  She shook her head. “My father,” she said, and for the first time in years, she thought of him kindly. “He was so passionate about art that he wanted me to love it the way he did. With his whole heart. He used to take me to museums where he taught me to see that every painting has a story. How each person sees the work through their own experiences, so every story is different.”

  “That’s...huh. The way you look when you talk about art makes me want to know more. I have zero experience with the arts. My family was amazingly boring.”

  “Are you close to them?”

  “My parents? Nope. They live in South Carolina. We don’t talk much. I gather you’re close to your father?”

  “I haven’t seen him in a long time. And my mother died when I was young.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. It was. Her mother wasn’t a hot button.

  “I haven’t seen my folks for a while, either,” he said, as he pushed back the stray hair she’d been seeing in her peripheral vision. “They’re really into golf. It’s all they do.”

  “How did you end up in the military?”

  “It was a teacher, actually. In middle school. He loved everything about the service, although he was disabled and couldn’t join up.”

  “Does he know that he inspired you?”

  “No. He died when I was in boot camp.”

  “Sorry.”

  Logan shrugged. “He was great. I took to the army like a duck to water. I liked the discipline. The push to be a great soldier was very strong in me. I liked the challenge. So when I was recruited, I went for it.”

  “Why did they come for you?”

  “I have a facility for languages. And trust me, I have no idea—”

  Her phone rang. She couldn’t afford not to get it. “Hold that thought?”

  She went to her purse, which was on a chair alongside her briefcase. When she looked at the text, her heart started racing.

  She felt nervous, of course, but also relieved. Holstrom had solved the problem of how she would meet him next. Unfortunately, it meant leaving the bed and Logan, which she was loath to do, but Holstrom was why she’d come to Boston.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping... But I do have to go. I really do.” She saw the disappointment in his face and thought once again how life could be so damn unfair. “You’ll have to excuse me because I need to get dressed,” she said and had to turn away.

  * * *

  HE NEEDED TO let this go already. Halfway to the hotel, and he was still gnawing on a dry bone.

  Kensey had told him ahead of time that she might be called away, and it had happened. All he could think about was being shooed out of her room. One minute, he’d been completely relaxed and exactly where he wanted to be; the next, her door had closed behind him. He hadn’t even collected the clothes he’d had on.

  In practical terms, she’d done him a favor. His meeting with Holstrom was tomorrow. He needed to be in peak form. ASIS—the leading organization for security professionals—was having their reception at the Sheraton in about an hour, which would be a great way to learn more about the man.

  Jim Barney, a veteran of the Gulf War, was in charge of recruiting high-level executives for Holstrom Industries Energy Division. Logan had met Barney in the HI booth, where he’d been talking about job openings and the many opportunities that existed within Holstrom Industries for the right people. He’d been very informative, entertaining and, yeah, they’d bonded over their military service. They’d made tentative plans to meet in the bar before going up to the reception.

  Logan knew so much about Holstrom Industries that he could write a book, but his knowledge of the man himself was sketchier. It was common knowledge that he was a womanizer, and his reputation when things didn’t go his way was part of his bigger-than-life aura. Barney had met Ian years ago, and he knew him pretty well.

  After paying the taxi driver, he made his way to the lounge. Sure enough, Barney had found a stool at the bar and had a drink in hand. Walking the exhibit floor was paying off nicely, and Logan hoped this turned out to be an incredibly helpful chat.

  Or Barney could tell his boss not to hire Logan.

  “First one’s on me,” Barney said. “What’s your poison?”

  He wouldn’t have minded a scotch, but he wasn’t going to touch a drink until after his meeting tomorrow. “Tonic and lime.”

  “Really?” Barney’s expression changed from vaguely interested to vaguely suspicious. “You in AA or something?”

  “Or something.”

  “Well, hell.” Barney sipped his drink. “I was gonna buy you another round, show you what a nice guy I am. But tonic and lime? Shit. I’ll pick up your tab for the rest of the night.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. Just so I know we’re on the same page, you still want to talk to me about Holstrom?”

  “Yep. I got nothing there to hide, and you seem like a man who’d be an asset to the company. What do you want to know?”

  “How you ended up where you are,” Logan said. “What you think about the man.”

  Barney turned to face the room. “I’m gonna get us a table,” he said. “That’s a sitting down conversation.” Logan ended up paying for his drink. An outrageous price for tonic water, but what the hell. Then he saw that Barney’s poison was Johnnie Walker Blue. Fifty bucks a pop. But that didn’t stop him from making sure the waitress would come by with another round in twenty minutes.

  He didn’t want to get Barney wasted. Just loose. The guy was in his fifties, and he looked more like a traveling vacuum salesman than a big-time recruiter for a major company. But with a gig like his, he had to be above reproach.

  “About time,” Barney said when Logan arrived at the table. “I was getting ready to invite a bunch of strangers to sit down.”

  Logan smiled. Put his drink down and shoved a small fortune in scotch whiskey across the table before he took a seat. “I didn’t expect this kind of a crowd. I hope they aren’t all going to the reception.”

  Barney nodded toward the back of the room. “Free buffet. Everyone crawls out of the woodwork for that.”

  “Aw, man. Thanks for reminding me I’m starving.”

  “That lime should fill the empty maw just fine until we get upstairs. Then you can eat to your heart’s content.”

  Logan lifted his glass for a toast. “To veterans and assholes.”

  “Since I’m the senior vet...” Barney said, leaving the sentence right where it counted.

  “Drink up.”

  The way Barney looked after taking a pretty serious sip of the scotch was just shy of embarrassing. He would have told the man to take his drink and get a room, but that was so cliché. “You’ve worked for Ian Holstrom for a long time. Why?”

  Barney didn’t blink at the question. “He pays me great money. You wouldn’t think so, given the way I dress, but you added two and t
wo together when you bought me this drink.”

  “That’s it? Money?”

  “No, son. That’s not all of it. I find Ian Holstrom a unique individual. He wants the best people working for his company, and welcomes a challenge. Very few of the people I’ve helped to place quit. I don’t know if they’re happy, but they’re making a good wage no matter what tier employee they are and their jobs are never boring. They’re not working for HI because I felt sorry for them. They’re extremely qualified and they’re an intricate piece of the company. Finding someone who’s the perfect fit can be taxing but also very satisfying. That’s why I work where I work.”

  “That’s a hell of a good reason,” Logan said. “I have those goals myself. A good fit is important.”

  “And that’s why we’re having this conversation. I was there for most of your presentation.”

  That was a surprise. “You didn’t say anything at the booth.”

  “Didn’t need to. I also know you’re in the running to be the new security subcontractor. You’re smart to go after it and I think you have the best shot at it.” Barney shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong—I have no influence. He doesn’t listen to me about security so I’m no help there. But he has connections that would make your company grow faster than any other way.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  “Personally, I’d like to see you get the contract because of how many vets you’d be putting to work. I don’t do that level of recruiting. My job is to go after a retired colonel or general, but you...you could be in a position to make a real difference. And here’s how I can help you,” Barney said, lowering his voice and leaning forward. “There’s very little Holstrom likes more than to look good. If the public views him as patriotic or philanthropic, all the better. I’d play up the vet angle if I were you. How you can help him be the largest employer of ex-military in the country. Let him know how much people will eat that up. And the media, too. No need to be subtle about it, either. He won’t care if you’re using the angle to win him over. Hell, he’ll respect you for it.”

  Logan nodded. He’d already planned to push the public-perception angle, but he liked knowing he didn’t have to be sly about it.

  The waitress came by with another drink for each man. When Barney reached for his wallet, Logan shook his head.

  Barney nodded his thanks. “You know the story of the scorpion and the frog?”

  “I... No. I don’t think I do.”

  “Okay, so a scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a wide stream, one the scorpion can’t possibly cross. The scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, ‘How do I know you won’t sting me?’ The scorpion says, ‘Because if I do, I will die too.’

  “Satisfied with the scorpion’s logic, the frog lets him jump on his back, and they set out, but halfway across the stream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog knows he’ll die without reaching the other bank, but he knows the scorpion will drown, too. The frog has just enough time to ask why.

  “‘Because,’ the scorpion says, ‘It’s my nature.’”

  Logan smiled. “I have been both the frog and the scorpion. But thanks for the reminder. At least I’ll know what I’m getting into.”

  Barney nodded. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

  * * *

  LOGAN HAD EXPECTED the reception to be larger, and less fancy. “Small turnout.”

  “They don’t invite everybody who has a booth,” Barney said. “You have to have a certain size booth. You’re here because of your presentation.”

  “Why are you here?” Logan looked at the man. His suit fit him well, and had to be more expensive than Logan originally thought. It was the guy underneath who was rumpled.

  “As you know, I don’t have a damn thing to do with security. I come here and talk to people. Ian hopes I’ll steal talent from the competition. I’m heading to the buffet if you want to come with. They put out a really decent spread.”

  “Great. I really am starving—”

  “By the way, don’t corner Ian with business talk tonight. Save it for your meeting tomorrow. He doesn’t like mixing business with pleasure, especially if he’s got a knockout like her on his arm.”

  Logan followed Barney’s gaze.

  He spotted Ian Holstrom right away. He was standing near the bar looking sharp in a perfectly tailored dark suit. But that wasn’t what gripped Logan’s attention. Or sucked the air from his lungs.

  It was Kensey.

  She had her hand on Holstrom’s arm. She was laughing at something, and the chandelier above them made her hair look like spun gold. Her dress wasn’t like that last one, the one that had nearly given him a heart attack. This one was skintight. Red. Her stiletto heels were black and gave her a couple of inches on Holstrom.

  She’d never said she knew the man.

  But then why would she?

  Logan struggled to remember if he’d said anything about Holstrom to her. No, he didn’t think so. She knew he was after a contract, but he’d never said the name of the company. Had he?

  Not likely. Hell, when he was with Kensey, business was the last thing on his mind. Different problem. So, no, she’d had no reason to mention she knew Holstrom. Unless she was involved with him, and then, yeah, it would’ve been nice if she’d said something before they’d had sex.

  Shit.

  She leaned closer to Holstrom.

  Logan’s blood pressure skyrocketed. What the hell was she doing?

  “Hey, you interested in the buffet, or not?”

  Logan looked at Barney and suddenly remembered something. Two nights ago. His phone conversation with Mike. Holstrom’s name had come up. Directly after that, Kensey had gone to ground. Coincidence? He didn’t believe in them.

  “Goddamn it,” he said, turning his gaze back to her, all nice and cozy, pressed up against the man Logan hoped to do business with.

  Barney laughed. “I know, she’s very pretty, but don’t even think about it. Nobody messes with Holstrom’s women. You might as well forget her.”

  If only Logan could.

  13

  “I DON’T BELIEVE you for one second,” Kensey said, looking directly into Ian Holstrom’s light eyes.

  “It’s all true. Every last word.”

  She lowered her lashes, tried to fight a smile without looking as if she was having an attack of some kind. Truth was, Holstrom was interesting. No doubt about it. He was an imposing man with strong views. And he certainly understood that power was an extraordinary aphrodisiac.

  It made her ill. The idea of using her sex appeal for any kind of gain was so far from who she was that it was painful.

  At least talking with him was easy. Discussing art was safe, and he liked showing off how much he knew. But honestly, there was only one topic of conversation that mattered. Ian Holstrom reminded her of the sea creatures who needed to be wetted down whenever they left their habitat. For now, she was the water keeping him alive, the compliments giving him obvious pleasure, only to roll off so he required another.

  “Wait, that had happened before,” she said. “Steve Wynn, I think, put his elbow through Picasso’s La Rêve just before he was to sell it to Steve Cohen for $120 million dollars.”

  Holstrom nodded. “One hundred and thirty-seventy million.”

  “He must have cursed that moment every day since.”

  “It was restored. And sold. I myself have purchased some of his collection. Two Gauguins. And a van Gogh.”

  “I’d give anything to see them,” she said, her excitement real.

  “Your friend Neil Patterson has outbid me on a few masterworks.”

  Kensey stiffened. She’d helped broker those deals, which Holstrom would know, so he was clearly testing her. “I’m aware,” she said, trying to rem
ain composed.

  “I was thinking of giving him a call. To see if he wanted to change his mind.”

  Under his watchful gaze, she tightened her lips, briefly avoided his eyes, hoping she was sending the right signals. “He won’t give me a good reference, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “I can’t imagine why not. You certainly seem to know your art. You did graduate from the Istituto Superiore per la Conservazione ed il Restauro, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Naturally, he’d done his homework, just as she and Neil had suspected. Thank God, Sam had worked her magic. “I did. I’m an excellent curator, and my restoration work has been noted by the Met among others. Neil and I had different expectations about certain things. Personal things.” She waved her hand, dismissing what she’d just said. “He’s a fossil.”

  “That’s the best description of Neil Patterson I’ve ever heard. He doesn’t deserve the finer things in life. He certainly doesn’t understand how to keep them.”

  She blushed. It helped the cause, of course, but she actually was embarrassed by the inference. It was all she could do not to leap to Neil’s defense.

  Holstrom laughed. “He’s always been shortsighted, willing to spend big bucks on art, but not on someone as beautiful and talented as you.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I have to be here for at least another hour, as tedious as that sounds, but why don’t we have dinner, after? We could go to O Ya.”

  Even she knew that was widely considered the best restaurant in Boston. She smiled. “As if we could get a table... Oh,” she said. “Of course.”

  Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “You really have been spending too much time with Patterson.”

  “I suppose that’s true. But, if I may be honest?”

  “Of course you may.”

  She’d been noticing that there was an actual bubble around them. A two-foot circle where no one dared tread. Interesting. “I was hoping for something more private.”

  “For example...?”

  “Where I could see that van Gogh and Gauguin.”