Captain of Industry Page 14

  When the elevator opened on the thirty-third floor she stepped out into a nondescript space flanked by closed doors with security keypads. Its beige chill was at odds with the hint of pizza and popcorn in the air.

  A buzzer sounded and the double doors to her left swung open. Glossy black tile led to a walnut and glass reception area where a waiflike, dark-skinned young man in an exquisitely paired Jos A Banks sweater and tie rose to greet her. His puppy-brown eyes gobbled her up from shoes to suit to indigo-black princess braids that swept her hair back from her temples. She got the impression that if asked he’d promptly reply, “Chanel, Milan Summer, 2006.”

  “Ms. Lamont, uh…How can I help you?”

  She slid her white-framed sunglasses off her nose and tucked them in her handbag. “Ms. Mason is expecting me.”

  “Of course. One moment.” He tapped rapidly at his desk phone and said into his headset, “Jennifer Lamont is here to see Ms. Mason.” After listening briefly he said to her, “Someone will be right out,” and limited himself to quick glances in her direction.

  Behind him was a translucent wall of architect’s glass blocks, inset with COMMONTECH and the corporate logo. Through the blocks she could see glass-framed offices lining the walls with a large array of cubicles in groups of four and six. A moving form solidified as it came closer and then Jennifer could tell it was the formidable Annemarie.

  They’d never spoken, but she knew that Suzanne and Annemarie were close. Therefore, she assumed that Annemarie knew all about Jennifer’s disappearing act in New York a decade ago. Her breaking things off had left Suzanne and Annemarie to run that merger that Suzanne had been so excited about, and had no doubt added to their fortunes. So really, Annemarie should be grateful, shouldn’t she?

  It took one stiff, fiercely forced smile to assure Jennifer that Annemarie didn’t see it that way.

  “Suzanne is on a call, but she asked that someone take you to the conference room.”

  “How nice of you to volunteer.”

  “This way.” Annemarie turned on her booted heel, leaving Jennifer to follow at a quick pace.

  When the first head popped up behind one of the frosted glass and dark wood partition walls Jennifer gave the sandy-haired man a wave. More heads, three-quarters of them male, suddenly appeared. Annemarie looked over her shoulder and caught Jennifer winking.

  “Don’t make me turn a hose on all of you,” Annemarie muttered just loudly enough to make those nearest disappear again.

  The premises were considerably more corporate than Jennifer had expected. She’d been envisioning pizza boxes and empty cans of Red Bull. The general attire was California casual but not too casual. There were no suits at all, and jackets seemed optional. Polo shirts instead of T-shirts, khakis instead of jeans. There was no heavy metal blasting or trails of popcorn across the lavishly thick gray carpet. The steady babble of voices reminded her of a busy bank.

  One of the office doors opened and a brush-cut Asian man in chinos backed out saying, “I’m not kidding. Your office is mine in two months. We’re trading places!” He said it with humor and after a moment ducked a beanbag aimed at his head.

  Annemarie made a reflexive attempt to bat it down but it sailed past her. Jennifer caught it single-handed before it could nail her right in the throat. Self-defense training had its uses.

  She held out the velvet covered square. “I believe this was for you?”

  The young man looked pale around the eyes as he approached Jennifer. He could have been any age between twelve and forty, but she was betting it was closer to twenty-five. She dropped the bag into the outstretched hand. “Good luck getting that office.”

  His mouth opened and closed and Jennifer was pretty sure he thought he’d spoken. Annemarie was shaking her head as she resumed her rapid pace toward the far corner of the floor.

  Suzanne’s expansive, glass-walled office was in the corner and Jennifer could see that she was on the phone, but she was following Jennifer’s progress toward her with one hand smothering laughter. She must have seen the beanbag interplay. Annemarie opened the door next to Suzanne’s office and lights automatically came on.

  “Please make yourself comfortable. I’m sure Suzanne will be with you as soon as she can.” Jennifer heard the double entendre in Annemarie’s voice, but her back was turned as she snapped the blinds closed between the conference room and the rest of the floor. She let the door swing quietly shut, but instead of being on the other side she turned to face Jennifer, her back now to Suzanne who was staring at her desk as if trying to focus on her call.

  Annemarie had style. Jennifer was impressed. Her short-cropped white hair was fringed with orange-tipped bangs. Her Dockers had razor creases in the front and she was firm-bodied with muscles that showed below her short-sleeve Alligator polo shirt. Jennifer was pretty sure that if Annemarie wanted to, she could bench press Jennifer quite easily.

  Annemarie fixed her with an unflinching look that wasn’t the least bit mitigated by the cat’s-eye glasses she wore. “We have about sixty seconds, I’m guessing, so I’ll make this brief. Break her heart again and I’ll find you.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I’d broken it before.”

  “How convenient.”

  Knowing that Suzanne could look up at any moment, Jennifer kept her expression as charming and open as possible. “Do you threaten all of Suzanne’s friends?”

  “You’re special.”

  “Thank you, then.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Annemarie made a graceful exit, the door snapping closed behind her.

  Jennifer glanced at Suzanne who was now staring at her. She answered the inquiring look with a reassuring smile. Fashion was a sea of bitchery and it would take better than that to disturb her.

  She leaned back in the chair like an art patron studying a favorite work. Suzanne looked like the boss in her black chinos, white shirt and, if she wasn’t mistaken, light blue Bonobos sport coat. The look suited her, but was definitely conservative for the woman who’d given a bunch of high rollers kazoos to play with at a swanky party.

  She blew her a kiss. Suzanne flushed and gave her a warning look.

  She checked the buttons on her jacket and, oops, the top one came undone. It wasn’t a suit that required a blouse, and the next stop was the Victoria’s Secret. Suzanne closed her eyes, said something into the phone, then looked again. Jennifer made a show of checking her stocking. When she glanced at Suzanne she discovered her standing at the separating wall of glass, a note pressed to it.

  She left her seat to read the tidy words: Ms. Lamont are you trying to seduce me?

  Her laughter turned into an open-mouthed smile. After a long look that ran the length of Suzanne’s body, Jennifer mouthed a slow yes.

  Suzanne’s gaze was caressing her through the glass. She thought about unbuttoning her jacket all the way, but no doubt if she did someone would walk in.

  Suzanne crumpled the note and thrust it into her pocket. She turned away, but not before she’d focused for a long moment on Jennifer’s lips.

  The conference room felt stifling and small. Jennifer imagined a hundred different ways she and Suzanne could break the table.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Only the reminder to herself that she was the boss and had to set an example of decorum prevented Suzanne from kissing Jennifer the moment she was within reach. Of course, Jennifer was delightfully emitting every bit of sex appeal she had, and the looks they shared through the glass ought to have melted it. After asking about her flight, she said, “I want to show you something. It’ll make you laugh.”

  “Lead on, Macduff.”

  Suzanne was amused as a few people had leaned out of their cubicles as she escorted Jennifer out of the conference room. “I’m sure it’s the glow of your outfit.”

  “You have something against Chanel?”

  Suzanne said under her breath, “I like Chanel against me just fine,” and was gratified at the little noise Jennifer made.
/>
  It was her turn to whimper when Jennifer said, hardly moving her lips, “It won’t be Chanel against you for long.”

  “Now that we have that settled, I’m feeling much better.” When Jennifer didn’t answer she glanced back and shook her head. Jennifer appeared to be in her element, returning the prairie dogging gawks with a wink or a finger wave. Suzanne was willing to bet that later there would be a discussion as to which of them had been on the receiving end of a real connection with the fashion goddess.

  Deep down there was a squeaky little voice telling the high school version of herself that life certainly got better. That it was okay to vigorously parade her brains and challenge the boys-only science club. That college would be great, and she’d be able to fly all her flags. And maybe, just maybe, later on, she’d get the girl who wanted her, and only her, just the way she was.

  She paused to give Jennifer a sidelong glance. “I’m not sure you should feed the wildlife. They’ll lose all appetite for what’s in their normal habitat.”

  “I’ve tried playing it as if I didn’t notice when people look, but it’s more fun to notice. And admiration from a safe distance is a kind of gift. I might as well say thank you.”

  “Also from a safe distance.”

  “Exactly.”

  She pushed open the door to the playroom. Jennifer laughed, just as Suzanne had known she would.

  “Is that the same table we hauled across Manhattan?”

  “No, it’s bigger.” She walked around the half-finished tableau of the Battle of Minas Tirith. She waved a hand at the diagrams pinned haphazardly to the wall. “I have no room for this at home, obviously. Anyone who wants to can take a break and add some pieces too.”

  “All the sorting is done.” Jennifer tapped a bin full of tan corner thicks. “I won’t be of any use.”

  “I have a better date planned, I hope.” Suzanne tried not to mentally replay all the various ways she’d found Jennifer more than merely useful. Time for that later.

  “That was a Class A date. Or so I was told.” Jennifer broke off with a glance behind Suzanne.

  Jacques was leaning in. “The valet is downstairs.”

  “Thanks. Good luck tomorrow night.”

  “The Good Lord knows I need it.” He made a rapid departure back to reception.

  To Jennifer’s inquiring look, Suzanne said, “He’s dancing in a fundraiser tomorrow. First time in full drag and he’s nervous.”

  “I remember all too well my first runway. I felt as if the clothes were going to swallow me whole.”

  Suzanne picked up a freeform sculpture that might have been an Ent with death ray eyes and roots on fire. Someone had finished the largest of the Black Ships and it looked awesome. “I don’t have the time for this, not like I used to.”

  Jennifer’s voice was low and even. “Let’s make the most of what time we can steal, then.”

  Suzanne heard the familiar warning bell. This is just for now, geek girl. One part of her told herself not to want what she was never going to have, but the rest of her brain wasn’t listening.

  On their way to the elevator they rounded a cubicle corner and Jennifer bumped into one of the brokers. His face immediately flamed and the man Suzanne knew as competent and articulate dissolved into a stammering adolescent right before her eyes.

  Jennifer apologized. When he seemed unable to move out of her way Jennifer pinched the front of his corporate wear CommonTech polo shirt and pulled him gently aside. She stopped his spluttered apology by pressing a fingertip to his lips. “We’ll always have Paris.”

  He laughed and said, “Sure,” against her fingertip.

  “Casablanca,” Suzanne murmured. Jennifer gave her a pleased nod, but Suzanne was left wondering if that was how she was around Jennifer too. She didn’t want to be led around like a bemused rabbit and Jennifer looked very comfortable doing the leading. Annemarie thought that was already the truth.

  But holy tennis balls, that jacket fit her like skin, and the long, long legs didn’t stop all the way down to the floor. Jennifer’s sex appeal was not something most mere mortals could ignore.

  Suzanne keyed open the exit door and found Jennifer had diverted to Jacques’ desk.

  “For what it’s worth,” she was saying, “remember you’re using the costume, it’s not using you. It’s not a mask, it’s a tool.”

  “That’s terrific advice,” Jacques said. He waved and cupped his hands in a way that encompassed Jennifer. “If I can get a fraction of all that on stage, I will be very happy.”

  “I have faith in you.” The elevator pinged and Jennifer left him with a smile over her shoulder as she hurried to rejoin Suzanne.

  They were halfway to the ground when Jennifer said, “There are security cameras in the elevator, aren’t there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn.”

  “You’re just going to have to wait.”

  She fixed Suzanne with the same look that had made it hard for Suzanne to keep track of the conversation on the phone, like she wasn’t just imagining Suzanne naked, she was picturing her in a tangle of arms and legs and sweat and desire, complete with a soundtrack heavy on the bass. “So are you.”

  The elevator bristled with electricity that tightened all the places where she wanted Jennifer’s touch. She was almost glad when the doors opened.

  As Jacques had said, her BMW was waiting in the parking garage’s loading zone, guarded by Suzanne’s favorite valet. The bright-faced older woman, who chattered mostly in a language Suzanne had decided was Tagalog, masterminded the Tetris project of transferring Jennifer’s luggage into the trunk. The space problem was solved when Suzanne moved her overnight bag to the small area behind the driver’s seat. The compact two-seater was not ideal for escorting a clothes diva. Not that she thought two large suitcases and a carry-on bag were excessive, not in Jennifer’s line of work.

  Jennifer sent her driver on his way. “So where are we going? You packed a bag—not back to Santa Cruz?”

  “A beautiful retreat in Napa. They are booked solid for weekends, but this early in the week we’ll have a cabin all to ourselves. Near the vineyards. There’s a hot tub. Have you ever been to Napa?”

  “No.”

  “I think you’ll love it.”

  They were at the front edge of the afternoon commute and whisked quickly across the Golden Gate Bridge and onto the foggy twists and climbs of the Marin highway. The scent of redwood and eucalyptus was not as strong in fall as it was at the height of spring, but it still had the effect of clearing Suzanne’s head. When they emerged from under the fog at Petaluma, the early evening was sparkling blue and gold.

  The rumblings all through the financial markets had made for a very stressful year. A few days’ escape from the world in the company of someone who made her nerves sing for sex—a prescription for renewal if there ever was one, she thought. Wanting more the first time around had been why it had hurt so much after, and she had decided she wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Even though she wished they had gone back to the lovely little house in Santa Cruz, Jennifer was charmed by Suzanne’s choice. The cabin set apart in its own secluded grove of oaks and pines, was very private and peaceful in the orange glow of the setting sun. She didn’t know why she felt unsettled as they rolled in the suitcases.

  A picnic basket greeted them on the scrubbed oak dining room table, bulging with cheese, olives and wine. Underneath those goodies was a container of cut carrots, a loaf of focaccia that was still slightly warm, and chilled roasted chicken. The scent of rosemary and cheddar set Jennifer’s stomach to growling.

  “Oh good.” Suzanne’s head was stuck inside the refrigerator. “There’s diet Mountain Dew and Coke as requested. Limes and club soda too, just for you. I think they were able to get everything.”

  Jennifer debated opening the cheddar or pouncing on Suzanne. Her hungers were in conflict. “Any of those ice cream sandwiches?”
>
  “Alas, no It’s-Its,” Suzanne confirmed after a look. “We’ll have to go on a hunt for them. There’s a great brew pub in town. Or the vineyards would be beautiful for a picnic tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be warm.”

  “There’s enough cheese for two picnics with a heart attack to spare.”

  Suzanne slipped an arm around Jennifer’s waist. “I think we’ll find ways to work it off.”

  The shocking pleasure of Suzanne’s nearness made Jennifer close her eyes for a moment. But when Suzanne would have lifted her onto the counter she playfully pushed her away. “Let’s explore.”

  “There’s plenty of time.” Suzanne made a grab for her hand.

  Jennifer ran toward the back of the cabin, counting on finding one of the bedrooms. Her gleeful squeal turned into alarm as Suzanne easily caught her.

  “You can’t escape me, wench.”

  “No fair, I’m in wenchy heels.”

  Suzanne hoisted Jennifer onto one shoulder, took a staggering step and let her slide back to the ground. Jennifer was laughing in earnest as she balanced against Suzanne’s chest.

  “How do the guys make it look so easy in the movies?”

  “The woman helps, silly.”

  “So, like real life.”

  Jennifer kissed her and let Suzanne walk her backward into a spacious bedroom complete with paneled walls of unfinished wood and a solid four-poster bed.

  Suzanne threw back the covers as Jennifer unbuttoned her suit jacket. Catching sight of the black lace covering her breasts, Suzanne said, “Does it sound super creepy if I admit that I love all the stuff you wear under your clothes?”

  “If I wake up in the middle of the night and you’re wearing it and there’s a sheep in the room—that’s creepy.”

  Suzanne’s warm hand slipped beneath the hem of Jennifer’s short skirt and a lazy finger traced around the top of her thigh-high stockings. “I’m never sure how to compliment you. You’re beautiful, but I’m sure you hear it all the time.”