Asking For It

by Alyssa Kress

  Griffith smiled.

  The balance of power had just shifted.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Clever," Arnie told Kate.

  He'd caught Kate's little interaction with Griffith at the beginning of lunch. Kate had known he would. Seemingly oblivious, Arnie saw everything. Now with a smug grin, he lumbered to a seat beside Kate on the long table bench, just as sherbet was being passed out for dessert.

  "Very clever," he commended.

  Kate blinked. She wasn't sure if she had been clever, or remarkably stupid. Yes, she had a counselor now, she didn't have to send any kids home, but she also had that man underfoot...bothering her.

  "I'm not gonna ask for specifics." Arnie reached for a bowl of orange sherbet. "But I take it Griffith Blaine is now our third adult counselor?"

  Kate rubbed her fingers over the stem of her dessert spoon. "He agreed to take the job, yes." But she couldn't say she'd liked the smile he'd given her on his acceptance of employment. Sinister would be putting it mildly.

  Arnie barked a laugh. "Good work, sister."

  Had it been? Kate bit her lower lip and looked over the hall of talking, eating boys. Griffith's one eye was watching her. There was a knowing smirk on his lips.

  "Oh, this is gonna be fun." Arnie dug into his sherbet. "Yep. Very entertaining."

  Kate shot him a glance. "Oh, yes, very entertaining...if we don't get sued, or put in jail."

  Arnie laughed again. He did not appear to suffer from fear of bankruptcy or incarceration. Of course, he hadn't refused to let Griffith use his telephone. He hadn't refused to feed Griffith unless he'd taken the job.

  "I doubt that'll happen." Arnie stuck his spoon in the sherbet again. "But I think...things could get mighty interesting around here."

  Kate kept frowning at Griffith, who was still smirking. "Interesting?"

  Arnie inclined his head.

  It took Kate a minute, a long, bewildered minute, before she got it. Then she grinned. "Oh. Ha! You aren't imagining I could be attracted to that man."

  Arnie simply smiled.

  A rude noise came out of Kate's mouth. "Right. Of all men in the world, I'd be attracted to one who reminds me of Eric?"

  Arnie's eyebrows jumped. "He does?" Licking the sherbet off his spoon, Arnie turned briefly toward José's table, then shook his head. "Nah, I don't see it. Griffith Blaine doesn't look like a two-bit embezzler."

  "Eric wasn't two-bit," Kate reminded her friend. "It was over a hundred grand he ripped off his Harley dealership." Yes, and he'd involved her barely eighteen-year-old younger brother in the process.

  Or perhaps it was more accurate to say she'd involved her brother. She'd been the one who thought to ask her handsome, attentive boyfriend if he'd be willing to give her brother a job. Her brother, who she'd admitted was an utter screw-up. In effect, she'd told a busy embezzler that her vulnerable younger brother was available as an accomplice. And she'd done so believing she was being constructive. Helpful.

  She'd been as horrified and shocked as her honest, hard-working parents when, six months later, their little Johnny got caught in the big arrest. They were still absorbing the shock of that when Johnny tried to escape from a sheriff's bus. He was shot in the back and killed.

  Now Arnie was watching Kate, his gaze shrewd. "You're still blaming yourself for that whole fiasco, aren't you?"

  Kate lifted a shoulder. Who else was she to blame? She'd practically handed her brother to Eric on a silver platter. She'd been blind, under the spell of 'romance.' Since Eric, eleven years ago, she hadn't come close to falling under that spell again.

  Her life had shifted onto an altogether different track. After the disaster, she'd reeled back to ponder what could possibly make her feel better about her part in the tragedy. Eventually she'd hit on the idea for this camp. Renouncing the luxury of graduate school, she'd jumped right in to the 'business' world, learning on the job how to write grants, find funding, and eventually create the kind of place that could help boys like Johnny, boys who for some reason had difficulty viewing themselves as achievers. She wanted them all to be able to imagine their true potential.

  Kate looked over to see Arnie regarding her with wise and disapproving eyes. She smiled. "Assigning blame is a waste of time." Besides, she'd already shouldered her share and decided what to do about it. She shook her head, still smiling. "But don't expect to see me develop a romantic interest in Griffith Blaine."

  Arnie merely grinned. "Never say never," he quipped.

  Kate had to laugh, for it was one of the phrases she often said to the boys. She looked over at Griffith, all bruised and rumpled and...dangerous. Looking at him made her feel uneasy inside.

  But not attracted. Hardly!

  Kate pulled a bowl of orange sherbet toward herself with an easy smile. "In this case, I think it's safe to say 'never.'"

  ~~~

  Ricky did his best to look casual as he bent sideways over Deirdre's desk and flipped open the top of a report entitled, "Under Development." As usual when he was inside the super-elegant rooms of Blaine Development, he could feel his viscera stir, a primeval call to battle.

  He was in the belly of the enemy.

  It was nine p.m. and, except for Deidre, he was alone in the office. While she flitted about, collecting things before leaving, he idly turned over one page of the report after another. He halted with his heart pounding on a page entitled "Sagebrush Valley." Unfortunately, it contained nothing except some banal numbers regarding sale prices. Nothing dirty, nothing of the sort Ricky needed to stop Griffith in his rotten tracks.

  Something illegal would be nice. Something fraudulent or even larcenous.

  Ricky flicked through the rest of the pages of the report, hoping against hope, and felt the familiar rage and frustration rise in his chest. If he didn't find something sufficiently dirty on Griffith, professional or personal, the bastard was going to start building that channel. He was going to take Kate's water.

  "Nearly there," Deirdre said, shooting him a nervous glance and pulling open a file drawer. "I just wanted to take home a couple... I'll only be a few more minutes."

  "No rush," Ricky wouldn't mind a few more minutes, himself. He'd been to Deirdre's office four times now, and not yet found a sniff of the requisite dirt. He'd spent thirty-some hours, he estimated, in the company of Griffith's personal assistant, and she'd yet to breathe a word of any funny business.

  This was taking too much time. Griffith was going to send his bulldozers up to Sagebrush Valley any day now. Not to mention, Ricky was getting behind in his real job playing at all this skullduggery. At the rate he was going, he might even get fired.

  But Ricky couldn't let the thing go. He absolutely had to help Kate. Kate was — well, she'd been everything to him. Pulled him out of his useless rut and set him on a high-speed train track. If he had his 'druthers, Ricky would halt Griffith's plans before Kate even found out that her new landlord planned to put her camp out of business.

  "Okay," Deirdre said. Ricky looked up to see her standing in the center of her office, long-legged and just the other side of graceful. She had her bulging briefcase over one shoulder, an armload of folders in her arms, and a worried look on her face. She'd be back in that same spot in less than twelve hours, but she appeared to wonder if she might be forgetting something.

  Ricky felt a lurch in his belly. Pavolovian response. Since meeting Deirdre three weeks ago — or making sure he'd meet Deirdre, he should say — he'd been getting a steady diet of truly first-class sex.

  He had every expectation of receiving another round of the same in about twenty-five minutes, when they'd reached her apartment and locked the door behind themselves.

  Ricky pushed himself off of Deirdre's desk. At the same time, he pushed down any worms of guilt that tried to wriggle to the surface. Deirdre was getting as much out of the situation as he was. No matter what his motivation in sleeping with her, it was clear they were wildly compatible in bed.

  "Why don't you let me
carry some of that?" he now told her, and reached for the twelve-inch pile of file folders.

  "What? Oh, thanks. Yeah, that'd be — " Her fair skin reddened as she relinquished the heavy pile of papers to Ricky. She was always knocked off-balance by a gesture of manly consideration, a fact that was oddly endearing.

  He made an up-and-down weighing motion with the file folders. "Anything special going on?"

  She shot him a quick look. A guilty one? "No, nothing special. Just...trying to stay ahead of the game." She started for the glass door of her glass-walled office.

  Behind her, Ricky made a face. Some Mata Hari he was. He could make the woman's eyes cross with pleasure, but she wouldn't tell him anything.

  "Do you really think I'm going to let you get to any of this?" Ricky followed the sway of Deirdre's plaid skirt as they walked through the empty office.

  She twirled, but then, seeing Ricky's smile, smiled back.

  "I won't let you, you know." Ricky, with his hands full, used his body to back her against the wall of elevators.

  She was smiling, those skillful lips of hers curving in a come-hither way. Pressed against her, Ricky could feel his body leap in response. Their eyes met in a playful duel. Ricky's blood sped.

  If they'd been in the deserted office of any other company, he'd have taken her right then.

  But this was Griffith Blaine's office, and Ricky was too cognizant of the fact.

  Smiling at Deirdre, hoping it looked like a promise rather than a grimace, Ricky reached past her to push the elevator button. "But I'm a big boy. I can wait for a...better venue to show you what I mean."

  Deirdre's hazel eyes sparkled in the dim light from the elevator lobby fixtures. "Since I don't want you dropping all of my project folders, I can work with that."

  All of her project folders? Straightening from her body and glancing down, Ricky wondered if he'd get a chance to look through them. If he'd find what he knew had to exist.

  A man as successful and driven as Griffith Blaine could not be squeaky clean. He already wasn't, as far as Ricky was concerned. The tactics he'd used to buy the property from under Kate had been sneaky and underhanded. She hadn't had a clue. Ricky, himself, had only discovered the whole deal by chance. While researching how to get a permit for an expansion Kate wanted to construct at the camp, Ricky had looked through previously granted permits for construction in the area. He'd seen the plans for Wildwood, and the numerous documents that had been required for building the water channel. The approved water channel.

  Sweat broke out beneath Ricky's suit as the bell for the elevator binged. He needed to find his ammunition against Griffith soon, something bad enough to get Griffith to back away from his fancy housing project below Camp Wild Hills.

  If he didn't, Kate would have to walk away from the whole camp: buildings, fields, everything. She'd lose it all.

  And kids like Ricky would lose the chance he'd had. If it hadn't been for Camp Wild Hills, Ricky would probably be selling drugs right now, or even more probably languishing in prison.

  A man like Griffith just shouldn't be allowed to — to exist.

  The elevator doors opened and Deirdre glanced in Ricky's direction before starting inside the posh conveyance. Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, for she stopped dead. "What's wrong?"

  "Hmm?" Ricky immediately schooled the expression he'd allowed to harden. "What? No, nothing's wrong except..." He thought fast. "I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."

  Deirdre stepped into the elevator, looking back at him. "Even though you worked so late tonight?"

  Ricky heaved Deirdre's stack of file folders as he followed her into the elevator and gave her an ironic look. "I think you know what I mean."

  She laughed. "Yeah, things have been even more crazy than usual." But she looked away, not giving any more information. Not confiding.

  He leaned across to push the button for the garage.

  "P1?" Her eyebrows knit.

  "Visitor parking. We're taking my car."

  "Oh?"

  "Don't worry. I'll drive you back to work tomorrow morning." Ricky grinned. "As early as you like."

  The worry lines on her forehead smoothed. "God, it is so good to be with you, especially when you understand — " Her words, bubbling forth, abruptly halted. The expression on her face went from relief to horror. "I mean, it's nice to know somebody who understands crazy schedules," she finished, and manufactured a limp smile.

  "Yeah," Ricky said. "It is." He'd seen her do this before, and knew exactly what she was thinking. She wanted to be closer, more of an item, but she was smart enough to know pushing in that direction would scare him off.

  Normally, he'd have been scared off by her a long time ago. Ricky enjoyed the company of women, he certainly enjoyed having sex with them, but he had no desire for a bona-fide relationship.

  But what he had with Deirdre didn't fit that category. He was only with her because he was using her. She couldn't scare him off. In fact...getting closer to her was probably exactly what he should be doing. If she felt they were close, if she could trust him more, then she might tell him more...

  The idea pulled at Ricky as the elevator descended to the parking garage. How could he get her to trust him?

  "We get off here?" Deirdre asked, as the elevator doors opened.

  "Yup. My car's to the right. This way."

  "You know," Deirdre mused. "Every time I'm down here I pray there won't be an earthquake until I've driven out to the street."

  "Where, no doubt, a big chunk of falling building would get you just when you were feeling safe."

  Laughing, Deirdre bumped her shoulder against his side. "Don't rain on my delusions, please."

  Ricky chuckled. Moments like this... Well, they were getting there. Easy with each other, joking. It wouldn't take much more.

  Their walking feet were the only sounds in the deserted garage. Ricky could feel his body respond to the intimacy of the situation. Intimacy, yes.

  Once they got to his car and unloaded their things, he stopped her before she could climb in. Leaning her against the side of the car, he opened his mouth over hers.

  She went warm and welcoming, even making the little mewing noises that drove him crazy. Her body moved against him in a way that told him she was going crazy, too.

  Close. Yes, this was definitely a type of closeness, one he was enjoying thoroughly. But it wasn't getting Ricky what he needed.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he drew back from the kiss, the one that wasn't doing enough. He was looking into Deirdre's softened eyes and wondering what he could possibly do to bring about the deeper emotional intimacy he desired when the idea came to him, out of the blue.

  "Come away with me this weekend." The words, in his voice, briefly terrified him. But he wasn't really asking her for himself, Ricky reasoned. He was asking for the cause.

  Meanwhile Deirdre went very still in his arms. "What?" she whispered.

  As if the words had been rehearsed, and had meaning, Ricky found them coming out of his mouth. "I'd really like to be alone with you somewhere. Have it be just the two of us." He dropped a kiss on her parted lips. "I'd like to spend time, real time, with you."

  Unbelievable. He'd never asked a woman to spend more than one night in a row with him, had never gone away anywhere with one. Part of him was aghast.

  Another part of him was delighted. Judging by the look on Deirdre's face, she was buying it: hook, line, and sinker.

  "This weekend?" She sounded both incredulous and hopeful. "Even with your workload?"

  "Fuck work." Ricky could say that much with sincerity. "I need a break, so do you. And I want us to take one together."

  She looked ready to melt into a puddle on the floor. But Ricky could see the fear lurking at the back of her eyes. She wasn't sure if saying yes would be pushing. Would it be giving away too much?

  He touched his forehead to hers, an affectionate gesture, wildly at odds from his usual, strictly sexual ov
ertures. He could feel her shiver. In that moment he felt, palpably, as if he were stepping over a line.

  No more would he be able to walk away from this, palms upraised, face innocent, claiming it had been no more than a good time.

  Now she'd be able to cry foul.

  Plus, a weekend away? Was he crazy? He couldn't afford the time. He had citations to check on the managing partner's appellate brief and an internal memo another partner wanted regarding the Uniform Commercial Code. As it was, he was about to be in serious doo-doo.

  But then she looked up at him, her hazel eyes soft as honey in the dim light of the garage. "Why, I'd love to go away with you this weekend, Ricky...just the two of us."

  Her voice was hardly more than a breath, but Ricky felt it like a punch. Triumph. She'd agreed. And this was going to work. He'd gain Deirdre's trust, and find something that would stop Griffith. This would help Kate, who'd be able to keep the camp open.

  "Great, Deirdre," he murmured huskily. "That's just...great." And, since it seemed appropriate, he kissed her again.

  She clung to him in a way she rarely did, so he could feel her need. He fought the resistance he usually raised against a woman's need, and steeled himself to accept, or at least tolerate, hers.

  He could do this. It meant saving the camp, it meant helping Kate. Ricky closed his eyes and kissed Deirdre back.

  Whatever it took, he was going to do it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On Friday morning, Kate left her group of kids with José in order to hike over the ridge to check on Griffith and the nine-year-olds. By her side tromped Orlando, a sullen ninth-grader, his straight hair brushing his shoulders.

  Mornings were for chores at Camp Wild Hills, which was a working farm. It was mid-August, and the height of the harvest. There was plenty to do.

  Griffith's group was supposed to be picking peaches. At the end of the week, Lupe, the cook, would take what she hadn't used for camp meals to the farmers' market in San Luis Obispo. The camp's entertainment fund benefited from the proceeds of the summer's work.