Lucifer's Lover Page 2

  “Who gets to go after the account?” Luke asked loudly.

  Silence greeted him as they all looked at each other, their expressions suddenly guarded. Even with her stunted abilities to analyze people, Lindsay knew the desire to win the account for themselves had suddenly bloomed in every salesman’s heart around the table.

  “Are you suggesting you should get the account?” Lindsay asked Luke, choosing her words so there was not even an accidental implication that she was offering it to him.

  “I bring in more business than anyone here,” Luke countered.

  “Almost everyone.”

  “Everyone, including you. Timothy ran figures for me, spread over the last six months. I’ve brought in two thousand dollars more than you.”

  “Two thousand is chicken feed,” Lindsay protested.

  “It’s still two thousand more than you bought in,” Luke said flatly.

  Impossible. Lindsay sat silently, trying to counter this unprecedented change. Luke was doing better than her? That wasn’t part of the plan. No one could do better than her. How had she allowed this to happen?

  “Face it, Lindsay,” Luke said quietly. “I’m the best salesman you’ve got. I should get the chance to land the account.”

  It was almost impossible to tear her gaze away from his black eyes. They were challenging. Intimidating, if she was being completely honest.

  “I’m the manager of the department,” Lindsay countered, knowing it was a pathetic response. She wanted this account for herself, now. She needed to shore up her record. Giving the account to Luke was a certain way to lose even more ground. The manager of the hotel, Vince Gormley, already thought Luke walked on water. What would he think if Luke pulled in the state’s Medical Association and the lucrative five year contract they were dangling?

  “What about both of you, then?” Tim said. It was the first time he had spoken all meeting and she knew he was jumping in because he’d seen she couldn’t find a response. No one in the room had noticed her struggle except Tim.

  “Both of us?” Luke shrugged, like the idea didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Why not?”

  “Not in a million years!” Lindsay shot back.

  Luke studied her and for a brief moment it felt eerily like they were the only two in the room. Lindsay’s heart boomed with a sickly mix of adrenaline and, yes, fear too. What was he thinking when he looked at her that way? Did he do it just to confound her? Maybe he did. It worked so well, after all.

  She clenched her hand to hide the trembling in it, still unable to look away from his black gaze.

  “What’s wrong, boss? Can’t you stand the competition?” His voice was low, almost like he was speaking only to her.

  “I didn’t mean as a competition…” Timothy began.

  “Yeah, a competition!” Alexander crowed. “All right.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “No. No contest!” Lindsay had to lift her voice.

  “It’s just a friendly competition,” someone called.

  “I’ve seen these ‘friendly’ competitions before,” Lindsay said. “People get obsessed by them. Next thing you know, the staff of the entire hotel will be taking side bets.”

  “I can arrange that,” Alexander volunteered.

  “I said no.” It was already getting out of hand. She needed to stop this right now.

  “What if the stakes were high enough?” Luke asked with an innocent expression Lindsay knew with complete certainty was a facade. Luke had bypassed innocence when he moved from childhood to devil in one giant leap. Lucifer Furey Pierse. Even the name suited him.

  A tiny touch of fear fluttered through her. She just didn’t know him well enough. That was the problem. She couldn’t anticipate what he might be planning. “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t care what the stakes are. I’m not doing it.”

  “What do you most want in the world?” Luke asked.

  Lindsay saw the yawning trap beneath his words. “I’m not even going to begin to talk about it,” she told him. It was an old sales ploy. If she did start in on specifics, he’d deal with every objection she raised, every roadblock. And just like that, she’d be locked into this stupid competition, the same way Luke managed to ensnarl her into so many things.

  “You can have anything you want,” Luke said. His tone was flat, lacking any sort of enticement or coaxing.

  The total sincerity in his tone and expression made her jaw drop before she could snap it closed again. “Anything?” she repeated, amazed.

  “Anything.”

  Timothy gave a wheezy laugh, like it had been pulled out of him reluctantly. “You can’t do it,” he told Luke. “No one is going to be able to make her the hotel manager before her birthday unless Gormley spontaneously falls down dead.”

  Lindsay caught her breath and glared at Tim, hurt clamping her heart. Tim, of all people, should know better than to speak about her ambitions aloud like that. How could he?

  Tim glanced at her, then his gaze snapped back to her face. His eyes widened as he realized what he had said and he looked away, at the conference table, to the ceiling, back to the folders in front of him, anywhere but at her.

  “Spontaneous mortality?” Luke said. He swiveled around in his chair, sitting up, as if he was getting down to business. “I’ve got an uncle, Uncle Ben, who used to drink a bottle of Bourbon a day. He swore he had the power to give people thrombosis. Usually while they were eating chicken at one of the best restaurants in town—“

  “And he claimed this before or after the daily bottle?” Alex asked.

  “Before. After the bottle he would confide that his gift, his power, had been given to him by a passing gypsy when he born, in exchange for the caul that was over his face. Personally I don’t believe it, because his second wife—my aunt Rose—used to show me the caul. His mother kept it in a dill pickle jar on the mantle shelf and would pray to it every night.”

  A wave of giggles went around the room but Lindsay didn’t feel at all amused. Luke’s stories about his extended and eccentric family were already the stuff of legend. He always produced them at the most auspicious moment… or the worst moment, depending on one’s perspective. “And the point of this badly composed story?” she asked calmly.

  “Story? It’s all true, every word of it.” He managed to look offended, with a wide-eyed innocent expression that absolutely no one took for real.

  “And you’re offering to let your uncle loose on Gormley?”

  “That would be difficult as Uncle Bill is dead.”

  “I thought he was called Ben?” Alexander asked.

  “Lemme guess, he died of cirrhosis of the liver,” Timothy said.

  “Thrombosis,” Luke corrected gravely. He glanced at Lindsay. “But I don’t have to worry about supplying what you want.” His voice once again that low, melodious tone that seemed to speak to her alone. “You won’t win,” he said. “You can’t.”

  She had been listening to the muted velvet of his voice, so the bald, confrontational statement shocked her and took her breath.

  “She won’t play, anyway,” Timothy said with the flat certainty that came from having known Lindsay for twenty years.

  Lindsay blinked away a fresh spurt of astonishment. Was she really that predictable? She found herself studying Luke again. He was watching her with calm assurance, completely untouched by any concern that he wouldn’t win the bet if she picked up the challenge. Did he think he knew her that well, too?

  “I’ll play,” she said and was rewarded by the momentary shift in Luke’s expression. She had managed to surprise him, although he was covering it with experienced ease. But the satisfaction she derived from throwing Luke off balance for even a fractional moment was a richly rewarding feeling. It was a feeling she wouldn’t mind repeating. Recklessly, she reached for something, anything, that would shock him again. “When I win,” she told the entire room, “Luke leaves town. Forever. He goes back to his blessed New York and stays there.” She watched Luke, wa
iting for the surprise to spear him again.

  “Done,” Luke said flatly, instantly. No surprise.

  Lindsay blinked away her own unease. The threat of being run out of town hadn’t even made him pause. Was he so sure of his abilities? Then she remembered that Luke was the department’s best salesperson, outselling even herself. And she had agreed to try to beat him.

  Damn, what had she done?

  Thoroughly ruffled, Lindsay began packing up her papers and pens. “Thanks, everyone. That’s it for this month. Everyone knows what I want to see—more business.”

  They all stood, gathering up their papers.

  “Doesn’t anyone want to know what I want out of the bet?” Luke asked in a voice loud enough to bring the room to a standstill.

  “Well, yeah. Shoot,” Timothy offered.

  “No, wait, let me guess,” Alexander interrupted. He rubbed his temples like a mind-reader and grinned. “Fifty-two return tickets to New York, one for every weekend.”

  There was a burst of laughter around the room, for everyone knew of Luke’s passion for the far-off city and his habit of slipping aboard the Friday night flight. He would arrive back in Deerfoot Falls on Monday morning with bloodshot eyes and a two-day growth, full of energy and enthusiasm.

  When Luke didn’t instantly confirm Alex’s guess, the laughter died away. Luke continued to gaze at Lindsay. His black eyes were boring into her. Holding her attention.

  “So, is it the plane tickets?” Timothy asked.

  “No.” His gaze wouldn’t let her go. “It’s a date with Lindsay.”

  “What? No!” Lindsay dropped her files back onto the table. A date? With him? The very idea was unthinkable.

  “You agreed to the bet!” Alexander protested.

  Lindsay barely heard Alexander’s words, for Luke was pinning her down with his gaze, drawing her attention. “Are you afraid you’ll lose?” he asked. He spoke in a voice pitched just loud enough so that only she could hear it. Despite the outbreak of excited talk and comment, she heard him perfectly.

  “I won’t lose,” she assured him.

  “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  She was forced to agree. She had nothing to lose. But despite the assurance, she was deeply disturbed as she slipped out of the big meeting room and headed for her office and the little pink bottle at the bottom of her drawer.

  The only really cheering aspect of the bet was the idea of watching Lucifer Furey Pierse climb aboard his last plane out of here.

  * * * * *

  Luke lengthened his stride and closed the gap between Lindsay and him just as she reached her office doorway.

  “Lindsay, wait up,” he called as he got closer.

  For a second or two he thought she was going to ignore him. She seemed to hesitate in her doorway, hovering while she made up her mind whether she was going to pretend she hadn’t heard him or not. Then she slowly turned to face him.

  “Let me guess. You’ve forgotten one last humiliation and just couldn’t wait to heap it on me?” she asked.

  Luke grinned. When he let down his guard it always surprised him—pleasantly so—when Lindsay came out shooting.

  “Seems you missed a prime opportunity to heap humiliation on me,” he told her.

  One dark blonde brow lifted smoothly. “How careless of me. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what I missed, either.”

  “Ordinarily, no, but—”

  “You want something in exchange.”

  Despite the delicate ash blonde looks and the fragile crystal green eyes, Lindsay had strength. Or perhaps it was because of the appearance of fragility that she had learnt such effective defenses. He suspected she would rather eat razor blades than trade on her looks but the chances of him ever finding out were close to zero and getting closer every day he stayed in Deerfoot Falls.

  Before the black cloud could descend, he straightened and shoved a hand in his pocket, making it look casual and helping him shrug off the mood before it took hold.

  She watched him now, her impatience already starting to build.

  “It’s not exactly something I want,” he began.

  Her brow rose again.

  “Okay, so I want something,” he agreed.

  “It’ll cost you.”

  “Beyond the prime chance to humiliate me?”

  She shifted the folders in her arm with an impatient movement. “It never seems to occur to you, Pierse, that the entire world is not focused upon you. People do have other priorities beyond scheming to bring you down a peg or two—no matter how much you deserve it.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held out his hand, flat, the palm down. Peace. “I just wanted to know where you heard that the medical association was looking for a better offer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Curiosity.”

  She studied him, her eyes stripping him down to the rotten core. “I have a hard time believing you, Pierse,” she said at last.

  Yeah, she had seen through him, all right. He tried to deflect the conversation before he saw condemnation or worse in her eyes. “Does it really matter why I want to know?”

  “Tell me why and I’ll tell you where I heard about it. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “That’s as good as it gets, Pierse. Come on, why do you want to know badly enough to risk humiliation?”

  He sighed. “I…just…I…” He found his hand was pushing through his hair and brought it back to his side. “I didn’t hear about it. I want to plug up the hole in my information sources.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “That’s not it at all,” she said, slowly.

  “Hang on—” he protested, a tiny germ of fear prickling through him.

  “Oh, I believe you didn’t hear about it. I just don’t believe you’re worried about the hole in your sources. It’s not that at all. You’re just burned up because I picked up a prime lead and you didn’t.”

  Luke shoved his hands into his pockets in reaction to the fear gripping tighter. “Is that what you think?”

  “I know, Pierse. I know. It just kills you that I might be better than you. That’s the sole reason you picked up this stupid bet. It’s not like you love your job—you’re never here long enough to show enthusiasm, let alone ambition.”

  “My figures are better than anyone here—”

  “Yes, including mine.” She shifted the files again. “Let me just take a guess over that one. You didn’t collect Alexander’s turnover, did you?”

  She had him there. “No,” he admitted.

  “Just mine. And yours.” She spread her hand. “Pride. Pure and simple. That huge ego of yours can’t stand the idea that I’ve pulled off a coup and you didn’t even hear a whisper of a lead.”

  “Boy, when you collect, you collect in spades, don’t you?” Luke shook his head. “Done humiliating me, Lindsay?”

  For a very short moment, he saw genuine surprise in her eyes. It startled him. Was she surprised at him, or herself? Then the surprise was gone.

  “Yes,” she said breezily. She slipped into her office and shut the door.

  Luke rested his palm against the solid wood. “So you’re not going to tell me where you heard about the medical association?”

  Very faintly, he heard “No!” float through the door, punctuated by the sound of a desk drawer rattling open. She was already back at work.

  “You make lousy bargains, boss!”

  There was no answer. After a moment, Luke pushed himself off the door frame and headed for his office, wishing he’d never opened his mouth.

  When was he going to learn to leave well enough alone? Well, there was still the outcome of the bet. Now that might produce different results, results where Lindsay couldn’t pull rank, where she was away from her desk and her precious career and once—he’d settle for even just once—something other than disinterest or disgust or fury would be in her eyes.

  He mentally shrugged. Who was he fooling? Lindsay Ede
n was never going to be any different than she was now. Especially with him.

  And all the way back to his office he puzzled over the question that had plagued him for months.

  Why did he want it to be different?

  Chapter Two

  Lindsay heard the tap on her office door and Luke’s muffled “’Night, boss,” exactly thirty seconds past five. The same time as last night and every night since Luke had begun working here.

  Tonight it completely blew her concentration. She threw the pen down.

  Damn. A date, for heaven’s sake! Of all the things he might have laid on the line—vacations, time off, cash bonuses, a promotion, title—he’d held out for a date.

  A date! The word left a sour taste in her mouth.

  With brisk determination, she began tidying her files again, trying to realign her focus and bring it back to the work at hand. She had been spending more time than she could afford this afternoon wondering what on earth had motivated Luke to settle for a date. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that his sole motive was to humiliate her.

  First, winning the bet—if he won the bet and that wasn’t a sure thing at all—if he won the bet, Lindsay would die of mortification and he knew it. Having to humiliate herself even further by going through the motions of a date with Luke would just be rubbing salt in the wound.

  She looked down at the paperwork she was supposed to be completing and grimaced. There was no way she was going to be able to finish it tonight. She might as well quit now, than waste the rest of the evening trying to get it done.

  The worst of it was, this stuff didn’t come naturally to her. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to dash it off if she wasn’t mentally wide awake.

  She gathered up the files, shoved them in her briefcase and snapped it shut. Maybe she could go home and work there. Perhaps a shower, dinner and talk with her father would put her in a more appropriate mood for work.

  At the very least, at home she would not be on tenterhooks, waiting for Luke to interrupt her whenever he chose to. She might be able to put the horrid afternoon out of her mind. Just being able to forget about the bet would help.