Red Sky At Morning - DK4 Read online

  Dar considered the repercussions of stabbing him with her fork and weighed the amusement value of hearing the scream versus the certain lawsuit she’d have to deal with. She sighed and just continued eating.

  The food was excellent, and she’d missed both breakfast and lunch, which hadn’t helped the headache flying had given her. “Nah, go ahead. I’m just his new intern,” she commented lightly, sucking in a strand of spaghetti.

  Alastair exhaled and hid a smile behind his hand. “Good evening, Bob. Sit down, will ya? What can I do for you?” Bob Trancet was the head of corporate sales for the New York office, which handled a good deal of their international business as well.

  The tall man sat down and folded his hands, ignoring Dar now. He was clean-cut and good looking, with silvered black hair and a strong profile. His athletic body was balanced, and he had a very self-assured air. “Nothing major. I was just hoping to put a bug in your ear about a possible new alliance. Datacom contacted me today and started sniffing around the edges of suggesting they want us to take over their network ops.”“Really?” Alastair propped his chin up on one fist. “They’re big competitors of ours in some places.”

  “Mm. But they can’t compete with the new network, and they know it.” Bob smirked. “They’re talking strategic partnership now—trading off them selling our net in exchange for us getting a lot of their South American stuff.”

  “Not worth it,” Dar commented, biting a meatball in half. “They’ve got twenty-year-old infrastructure, and it’ll cost us over a million bucks to upgrade their nodes to our spec.”

  There was absolute silence for a moment, giving Dar some peace and quiet in which to slurp her pasta.

  “Spunky intern,” Bob remarked dryly. “But all of a sudden, I’m 8 Melissa Good realizing that voice is familiar.” He waited for Dar to lift her eyes and met them with a twinkle of amusement. “I finally get to meet the infamous Dar Roberts. That was outstandingly stupid of me, wasn’t it? I should have figured it out from the start.” He held out a hand, which Dar reached over and clasped. “Intern, eh?”

  Dar smiled at him, and their eyes fenced briefly, two very strong wills gently testing each other. She could feel the intense magnetism he was putting out, and as his glance drifted over her and showed a distinct admiration, her ego pricked its little bat ears right up. “Well,”

  she drawled, “it was better than the other obvious conclusion.”

  He grinned right back. “Better for who? That would have done wonders for Al’s reputation.”

  Glancing between the two, Alastair cleared his throat. “I hadn’t realized you’d never met Dar, Bob. I know you’ve spoken on the phone, though.”

  “No, no.” Bob slowly shook his head, still apparently fascinated by Dar. “Never had the pleasure; and I do mean pleasure.”

  Dar took a breath and went back to consuming her dinner. “If Datacom wants to deal, they have to pay for their own upgrades before we sign anything. I don’t want them bottlenecking us,” she stated, then sighed as her cell phone rang. “Yeah?”

  “Dar, it’s Mark. We’ve got a situation.”

  Figures. “Hang on.” Dar stood and tucked her napkin under her plate. “Be right back.” She edged around where Bob was sitting and headed for the door, out of the noise, where she could hear better.

  Alastair took a sip of his wine and gazed drolly at his longtime associate. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, will ya?”

  “Son of a bitch.” Bob laughed, shaking a finger at him. “You told me she was smart, tough, and stubborn. How come you never mentioned she was gorgeous?” His eyes stayed pinned on the tall, lanky figure leaning against the door outside, phone pressed to her ear. “That is a serious hunk of woman, Al.”

  Alastair rolled his eyes. “You never change,” he snorted. “Wipe your chin. You’re drooling.”

  “Hell yes, I am!” Bob asserted. “That’s one sexy item I intend to get a closer look at.”

  Alastair held a hand up. “She’s taken.”

  “Bullshit. Nobody owns her—not in this lifetime, Bucko.” Bob shook his head firmly. “Don’t get so serious, Al. I just want to have a drink with her, not get married.”

  Alastair threw his trump card. “Bob, she’s gay.”

  “And? Your point is what?” his chief salesman replied. “Who cares? I sure don’t.” He balled up the napkin he’d been playing with and straightened. “I’ll just in—hey!”

  Alastair had reached across the table and fastened one hand on his wrist. Now he bore down and pulled, a suddenly serious, intent look on Red Sky At Morning 9

  his face. “You listen to me, mister. Don’t fuck with her.”

  A tiny pocket of shocked stillness surrounded them. Bob blinked and stared at his boss, nonplussed. “Hey, c’mon, Al,” he said, softly.

  “Take it easy.”

  “I mean it,” the CEO stated flatly.

  The younger man drew in a breath and held out his other hand, palm up, in a gesture of conciliation. “Okay, okay, boss. I hear you.” He gathered his composure and sat back as Alastair released him. “Is it okay if I just talk to her? She’s very bright, and I’d really like to spend a few minutes doing that.”

  A finger pointed at him. “If you go a step further than that, I will personally fire your ass. Understand?”

  “Understood,” Bob acknowledged quietly, as Dar reentered the restaurant, moving back toward them and taking her seat. Alert blue eyes flicked first to Alastair, then to him, and he got the curious sensation of being analyzed like a faulty piece of code by the raw, potent intelligence lurking just behind Dar’s now watchful gaze.

  “Trouble, Dar?” Alastair took a gulp of his wine and swirled the remainder around his glass. “Didn’t think we had that much going on this week.”

  “Ah.” Dar twirled a forkful of spaghetti and munched on it, swallowing before she answered. “It’s that damned conversion in Chicago. They’ve been trying to tie in that big ATM pipeline up to Canada for two weeks, and every time they do it, they take down half the Midwest.” She took a sip of her own wine. “I may have to send a team out there.”

  “Lousy time to be traveling,” Bob ventured. “Holidays and all.”

  “Mm,” Dar agreed, meeting his gaze. “Comes with the territory, though. My people know that. Work comes first.” She finished off her meatballs and sat back, crossing an arm over her chest as she sipped the wine. The problem was aggravating, for sure, and she wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t going to have to go there in person to take care of it.

  Which truly, truly sucked.

  “Hey, Dar?”

  She looked up to find Bob leaning forward with a look of friendly interest on his face. “Mm?” Something had gone on between him and Alastair, that much she knew, but what that was... Probably didn’t involve her. “Something on your mind?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Get to the city much?”

  That surprised her. “No. I try to not cross the Mason-Dixon unless I have to,” she replied dryly, giving Alastair a look. “Why?”

  Bob folded his hands together. Dar noticed they were nice, strong ones, with well-tended nails and just a hint of callus along the top of his index fingers. “I’m pretty proud of the place. I’ve lived here since I was shorter than the fire hydrants outside. Will you let me give you a quick tour?”

  10 Melissa Good Dar considered the request. “If you put an itinerary together for tomorrow night, sure,” she agreed amiably. “It’s been a long day.” He was attractive, and a sharp businessman, and it never hurt to build a few bridges when one had the chance to. Especially with the sales and marketing side of the house, with which she tended to be forever at cross-purposes.

  “You’re on.” Bob grinned, then pushed back from the table and stood up. “Al, it’s been a pleasure as always.” He inclined his head.

  “See you at the soiree tomorrow.” His eyes shifted. “And you, as well, I hear, Madame. Looking forward to hearing the presentation.�
� With a slight bow, he turned and threaded his way through the now truly busy restaurant, disappearing into the New York night once he cleared the door.

  KERRY STROLLED SLOWLY along the sidewalk. It was after her meeting and she was enjoying the bustling crowds as they passed around her along busy South Beach. The atmosphere around her was laid back and relaxed, people seeing and being seen, and she felt a sense of anonymous comfort as she dodged a Roller Blader and paused to peer in a shop window.

  Fashions. Her nose wrinkled a little. South Beach tended to the avant-garde and eclectic. And though Kerry wouldn’t exactly consider herself stodgy, she couldn’t quite imagine wearing most of what she saw.

  Outside her bedroom, anyway.

  She pushed the door open anyway and went in, letting her hands riffle through the rich, exotic fabrics as she made a brief, polite eye contact with the girl behind the desk. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” the girl replied, in an agreeable tone. “Howaya?”

  “Fine thanks.” Kerry paused, her attention attracted by a rack of leather somethings. “Oo.” She pushed aside two pairs of pants and peered at a studded leather bustier, biting the inside of her lip as she tried to imagine herself wearing it.

  “Nice, huh?” The girl was now at her shoulder. “That designer’s great. He’s local,” she said. “A lot of people wear his stuff to the clubs.”

  Clubs. Dar wasn’t much for clubs, and Kerry really wasn’t either, finding them noisy and chaotic though possessing a thrumming energy she sometimes appreciated. “It is nice,” she agreed.

  “You want that for you?” the girl asked, her voice doubtful.

  Kerry gave her a sideways look. “Don’t look like a biker rebel club chick, huh?” She caught a flash of herself in the mirror behind the counter, acknowledging that her Midwestern blonde conservative appearance probably leant itself to the girl’s dubious expression.

  “Well.” The girl gave her a half grin. “You never know, you know?

  But most people who come in here, they’re pretty radical already.”

  Red Sky At Morning 11

  The door to the shop opened, and the girl looked up. “Excuse me,”

  she said. “If you need something, just holler.” She ducked between the racks to greet the newcomers, male and female voices rising in a thickly accented question as she approached.

  Kerry turned back to her rack, and took the bustier off the hook, holding it up. It laced all the way down and was cut to fit very tight, studs outlining the breasts adding a blatantly sexy touch. “Hm.” She nibbled her lip. “But what on earth would you do with it, Kerry?” She started to put the hanger back, then she stopped, and turned, heading for the cashier’s desk. “I’ll find a place to wear it even if it’s just to give Dar a good laugh in our living room.”

  The two other customers were arguing over long, leather pants, and the sales clerk looked glad enough to leave their side when she saw Kerry approaching. “You going to go for it?”

  “Yeah.” Kerry produced a wry grin, along with her credit card.

  “You only live once, right?”

  “Not according to my abuela,” the girl answered promptly. “She says we all live many, many times. She knows.”

  Kerry leaned on the counter. “How? How does she know?”

  The clerk presented her with a charge slip and a pen with the head of Ozzy Osborne on it. “She says she knows because every time she gets a cat, it’s her ex-husband coming back all over again.”

  They both laughed, and Kerry signed the slip as she shook her head, while the girl neatly folded the bustier and put it in a bag. Kerry pushed the slip back across the table and picked up her bag, turning fully to look at the two other shoppers for the first time.

  Ah. She blinked, and gave the two a brief smile as she squeezed past them. Hoping she didn’t catch anything on one of their many piercings or the four inch nails the girl was waving around, Kerry conceded that the clerk certainly did have a point about her usual clientele.

  Ah well. She pushed the door open and emerged into the cool evening air, checking her watch as she started down the sidewalk again.

  “Coming back as a cat, huh?” She chuckled, as she headed in the direction of one of her favorite sushi dives. “Boy, people believe in some weird stuff.”

  She swung her bag over her shoulder and continued ambling along, peeking into windows. She approached one set, with a bench in front of them. The bench held a long limbed man sprawled across it, apparently just enjoying the cool night air. “Evening.” Kerry greeted him a she passed.

  “Hey, cute lady.” The man responded, in an amiable tone. “C’mere.

  You got great skin. Want something gorgeous on it?”

  Kerry glanced at the window, which featured the word Tattoo prominently on it. “Not tonight, thanks.”

  “Ah.” The man straightened up and glanced at her, his face 12 Melissa Good interesting, and shrewd. “You want one, c’mon. Admit it.”

  Something made her slow down, and she paused, glancing curiously at the man’s skin art, which covered pretty much every inch of his exposed body. Some of the marks were bright and very colorful, some were more faded, but none were hideous. “Do you do those?”

  “Sure.” the man said. “This is my shop.” He gestured behind him with a thumb. “Wanna come see some etchings?” He waggled an eyebrow at her, but grinned.

  Kerry hesitated, then glanced at her watch. “Not tonight,” she said.

  “I’ve got some friends waiting on me for dinner.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “But thanks for the offer.” Kerry ginned back at him, then she turned and continued on her way, before her curiosity could get her into some real trouble. “Etching, huh?” She chuckled and put the idea right out of her mind. “You’ll be thinking about a motorcycle next, you radical nerd, you.”

  Five minutes longer down the sidewalk, she spotted Colleen headed her way. Pushing the thought of tattoos and Harleys from her mind, she called, “Hey!”

  “Hey, girl.” Colleen caught her up, the redhead hooking her arm through Kerry’s with casual familiarity. “Ready to party? Ray’s on his way.”

  “More than ready,” Kerry admitted. “Today was too damn long.”

  She tucked her bag under her arm. “Let’s go get some naked, raw fish and have our way with them.”

  “Oo…aren’t we the wee wild thing!” Colleen laughed. “Such a rebel you are.”

  Kerry chuckled as they headed for the sushi place. “Yeah? Wait ’til you see what I got in this bag. You won’t believe it.”

  AS SHE STARED into the mirror with a scowl, Dar twitched her collar straight for the fourth time. Not that there was anything wrong with the burgundy silk business suit; the soft folds draped nicely over her tall frame, sleeves cut specifically to her measure, coming neatly past her wrists. The skirt was just above her knees, and with her tan, she could have gotten away without wearing hose. But she hadn’t, dutifully donning the smoky-dark nylons Kerry had tucked into her bag.

  “C’mon, Dar,” she repeated to her reflection. “Just pretend it’s a staff meeting.” With over a thousand people. Dar picked up the towel she’d used after her shower and wiped the sweat off her palms. She’d never admit to anyone just how much she hated public, really public speaking. She hadn’t even told Kerry about it. But here, alone in her hotel room, barely an hour before she had to address the stockholders, she could admit to herself that she was scared senseless.

  “Jackass.” She glowered into the pale blue eyes in the mirror. A Red Sky At Morning 13

  knock sounded on the door, and she almost hit the popcorn ceiling before she gave herself a shake and stalked toward the entrance. She opened the door to find a plant wanting admittance. “Hello?”

  Brown eyes peeked out from between the stems of some extremely gorgeous roses. “Ms. Roberts? This came for you.”

  Dar surveyed the arrangement and felt her eyebrows lift. She backed up. “C’mon in.” She watched as the
bellman carefully put the basket on the room’s small table, then back away cautiously. “Thanks.”

  Dar had taken a bill from her wallet and she now handed it to him, ignoring his departure as she explored her new decoration.

  It was way too cute and classy for Alastair, she decided, plucking a small teddy bear from the center. “And he wouldn’t send you, now would he?” She sniffed one of the blooms, which was large and perfect, then realized some of the roses weren’t real. Curiously, she touched one, then unwrapped the foil top to reveal rich, milky-looking chocolate. “Ah.” Cheerfully, she took a bite, then fished around until she rooted out the small card. She opened it and peered at the writing, not really needing the confirmation of the sender.

  Hey, sweetie.

  Give them heck.

  I love you.

  K

  “Aw.” Dar felt her entire body warm, a gentle flush that chased away the chills she’d been feeling not five minutes earlier. “You’re something else, you know that?” She took another bite of chocolate and considered the roses, then selected one and carefully broke its stem off just below the bloom. A few steps took her to her overnight bag, and she fished inside it, coming up with a safety pin and neatly pinning the rose on her lapel.

  Her eyes then fell on the tiny teddy, and she very briefly considered tucking it into her pocket, a sudden smile appearing when she imagined the collective reaction of the stockholders if they saw the little toy peeking out of her jacket. “Oh no...no, Dar, that would just blow that little old reputation of yours right out the window and into the Hudson River.” But she laughed, the light sound echoing softly in the room.

  She went over to where her breakfast lay mostly untasted on the bedside table and selected a croissant, cutting it open and covering it with butter and jelly. She ate that and washed it down with a swallow of coffee, then clicked off the television that had been playing soundlessly in the background and took one last look in the mirror.