Lucifer's Lover Page 3

  She locked the office door and went to find Timothy. He almost looked startled when he saw the briefcase in her hand but his unflappable expression returned instantly.

  “You have an appointment?”

  “Did you make me any you haven’t told me about?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.”

  “You’re going home?”

  “Yes Timothy, I’m going home.”

  He smiled. “Luke got under your skin, didn’t he?”

  Lindsay tried very hard to hide her surprise. “The only way Luke Pierse is ever going to get under my skin is if he turns into a tick. In which case, I’ll burn his tail off for him.”

  Timothy’s smile widened. “You’d enjoy it too, I bet.”

  “Speaking of bets…” Alexander stepped into the office, carrying a little notebook and pencil.

  “No, we are not speaking of bets. Now, or for the next week,” Lindsay said firmly, feeling her anger stir yet again.

  Alexander hesitated, his dark face drooping almost comically.

  “I mean it,” Lindsay insisted. “I’m not turning the winning of a lucrative account into some kind of nine-day wonder.”

  “You don’t call combining Lindsay Eden and dates a nine-day wonder?” Timothy asked.

  She swiveled to look at him, feeling a touch of surprise. “Since when did you sell out on me, Tim?”

  “When was the last time you had a date?” he shot back.

  “I’ve had plenty of dates!”

  “When was the last one?” he pressed.

  “I don’t keep statistics.” She could feel her indignation growing. Why was Timothy doing this? “Except, maybe, the size and capacity of my assistant’s brain.”

  “I can tell you to the day when your last date was.”

  “I also keep odds on how long my assistant is going to keep his job.” She clenched her teeth before hotter words tumbled out.

  “Ten months and three days,” Tim supplied.

  “Wow!” Alexander breathed, his notebook lowering.

  “You can go home now,” she snapped at him.

  “Right,” he agreed, hurrying out.

  “I should can your butt,” she told Timothy.

  “You won’t fire me.” He was serene.

  “Give me one good reason.”

  “Because you like having someone around who tells you the truth. Warts and all.”

  That damped her anger. Instantly. Because it was true. She took a few breaths, letting the anger dissipate. “And you’re the only truth-teller around who has an invisible asbestos suit. I’m sorry.”

  “Agh!” He waved his hand, his awkwardness with sentiment making his face flush. “I grew the suit after twenty years of living next door to you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, simply.

  He shrugged. “But I meant what I said. A date might do you good.”

  “With Luke Pierse? You know he does nothing but make me spit with anger.”

  “Exactly.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t get it. “Well…”

  “Go home,” he told her.

  “’Night.”

  She made her way to the elevator and the last vestiges of anger stirred back into instant, blazing life, for Luke was standing there with the general manager, Vince Gormley. Worse, their head were together. As she approached, they both started laughing, throwing their heads back.

  Good ol’ boys.

  Lindsay gritted her teeth. Even though she reported directly to Vince, she knew she had never really been fully accepted by him and largely it was because of her lack of this intangible ability to mix and mingle. Luke had it in buckets, damn his eyes. He and Vince got along like father and son and every time Lindsay saw them together her stomach would clench.

  She pushed away the tendrils of alarm creeping through her. Just because she wasn’t into backslapping and golf, it didn’t mean she would lose her job. She was one of the best promotions managers the hotel had ever had. Almost as good as her mother had been.

  Almost.

  It was the “almost” that made her heart sink when she saw Luke and Vince together. In the back of her mind, never quite articulated even in her thoughts, was the knowledge that her mother would have been in there mixing it, slapping her thigh right along with them, fully accepted as one of the boys.

  Lindsay marched up to the elevator control panel and prodded the button with energy. Luke continued to talk and Vince to listen with rapt attention, a smile lingering, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

  “The judges declared that the packaging had to be green and the meat to be fresh. Frozen wouldn’t do. Well, Aunt Mary had won the scavenger hunt for the last twenty-five years and wasn’t about to go down for an upstart who had been in the neighborhood for only twelve years. Her pride was on the line.”

  Another one of Luke’s mad relative tales, Lindsay realized. None of them were true, of course. They were too ridiculous to be true.

  “So what did she do?” Vince asked.

  “Okay. The supermarket was closed and she knew there wasn’t any meat packaged in green to be had anyway. What company is going to package meat with a green label? It’s too bizarre, makes the meat look rotten before its time. So she sat down, had a long, hard think about it.”

  “And?” Vince asked, echoing Lindsay’s thoughts.

  “So she stripped naked, tore holes in the bottom of a green garbage bag and wore it like a dress. Walked right on up to the judges. ‘Meat on the hoof’, she called herself and declared they couldn’t get fresher if they went to the abattoirs.”

  “No!” Vince began to laugh, a helpless chuckle that swiftly grew to a loud bellow.

  “Did she win?” Lindsay asked, lifting her voice above the laughter.

  At that moment, the elevator arrived, announcing itself with a loud chime. And at the same moment, Vince got control of himself and stopped laughing.

  Luke turned his head to look at her, as total silence fell. His dark eyes narrowed a little. The effect was too eerily like she had interrupted him and her question was unwelcome.

  The elevator doors slid open behind her.

  Damn, she thought. She’d got sucked up into his tales yet again. “Never mind,” she muttered and scurried into the elevator.

  Vince stuck out his hand toward Luke. “Anyway, Luke, have a good evening. I’ll see you on Thursday, okay? Ten o’clock, remember!”

  Lindsay hit the lobby button with a vicious jab, hoping the doors would slide shut before Luke could disentangle himself from Vince’s farewell. Miraculously the doors began to slide shut. At the last minute, Luke’s shirt-sleeved arm chopped down between the closing doors and they bounced harmlessly back again.

  He stepped into the lift and shot a glance at Lindsay.

  His shirt sleeves were still carelessly rolled up almost to his elbows, showing off tanned forearms and strong wrists.

  His clothes were never quite right, she realized. Oh, he wore the latest suits and the trendiest ties and shirts but it was the way he wore them. Nearly always the tie was loosened and the collar button undone. Often, he pushed the jacket sleeves up, or he would strip off the jacket and roll his shirt sleeves up, like now. And he would lounge against the edge of people’s desks, his hands in his pockets. It was as if he was donning the high-powered account executive’s uniform but refusing to take it seriously.

  She sighed. Well, she only had to put up with his presence for ten more floors. It wouldn’t kill her.

  But her heart was racing along unhappily. She remained silent, hoping Luke would take the hint.

  “She won,” he said quietly.

  “Who?”

  “My aunt. She won.”

  “How nice for her.”

  Eight…seven…come on, Lindsay mentally encouraged the creeping light.

  “This bet is bothering you, isn’t it?”

  “The bet?” she inquired airily. “Not at all.”

  Five…four…

  “T
hat’s why you’re going home early. You’re worried you might lose, after all.”

  Worried? She spun to face him. “You’d be the last person I’d tell if I were worried!”

  His hand hit the panel of lights, slamming down over the emergency stop button.

  “That’s exactly what the bet is about,” he said, his voice flat, forceful.

  She looked at the panel with the bright red LED display flashing its alarm. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “You can’t just halt an elevator like that. They’ll penalize you, or charge you or something. I don’t know what the penalty is for unlawfully halting an elevator but if it’s anything like stopping a train—”

  “Just shut up for one minute, will you?” he said quickly, as she paused for breath.

  She shut up. It was something in his eyes, rather than his words, that made her fall silent. His eyes in the dimly lit elevator car were almost obsidian black and the thick, deeply dark brown weight of his hair fell over his forehead, shadowing the eyes even more. There was something in his face… She groped to define the subtle expression and could feel a growing frustration. Other people would be able to name it instantly, would understand that strange light straight away.

  “You have no idea why I bet what I did and it’s chewing you up,” he said, his voice very quiet.

  “Aren’t you at all worried that you might lose?” she asked. “That you might have to leave Deerfoot Falls?”

  He smiled a little. “I’ve been kicked out of bigger and better places than this one. And you’re changing subjects on me. Not this time, Lindsay.” He stepped closer to her and suddenly the sides of the car seemed to close in around her. Too small. Much too small a space to house her and Luke at the same time.

  She almost gasped.

  “Have you ever wondered what it might be like to kiss me?” he asked softly.

  She stared at him, flummoxed. Had she really heard him say what she thought he’d just said?

  “I-I… What?” She blinked at him. Out of left field. Out of a blue sky. “What on Earth…?”

  He smiled and it seemed to her that the smile was bitter. “I guess I have my answer,” he said, reaching for the small button that would restart the elevator’s descent.

  Lindsay kept very still as the elevator started up and slid down to the lobby level. She kept her eyes on the display, afraid to look around.

  Her heart was racing as if she’d run a mad hundred yard sprint and her mind was churning with bewilderment. What was going on? She didn’t understand it at all. It was as if that one glimpse into Luke’s eyes and the small, singular note of bitterness had opened up a whole new facet to Luke and she wasn’t sure she wanted it opened.

  The doors slid open, revealing the pink-marbled, gold-and-crystal-enhanced lobby and a swell of pride lifted her heart a little. The Derwent was a classy hotel, no doubt of it. Small enough to be intimate, large enough to be sophisticated.

  She was about to step out when Luke’s arm came across the opening, jamming the doors back with the flat of his palm and blocking her way. He looked at her, lowering his chin a little to do so.

  “You know, when I first arrived here, I was a little bit intimidated, a little in awe of your unrelenting dedication to your career. I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. But after a couple of weeks, I began to wonder when you were going to stop for breath. I started watching for it. I figured sooner or later you’d have to come up for air. But you didn’t.”

  Lindsay bit her lip. “You don’t understand—”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t even admire it any more, Lindsay. After six months of waiting for you to fall off the pedestal, I started getting really uneasy. Now, when it comes right down to it, mostly what I feel when I watch you doing your thing is…” He paused and she saw him draw breath. “I pity you.” His voice was very low.

  He let the doors go and stepped out.

  Lindsay stepped out behind him and watched him walk across the rugs and marble to the bank of glass doors leading onto Queen Street, sliding into his jacket as he went.

  She didn’t know whether she should be angry or upset. Neither seemed to fit with the churning inside her. Luke’s words had been mild but his attitude, the quiet depth of feeling behind the simple words had stirred up a huge, hard ball of reaction that she had no idea how to start dissolving.

  He patently disapproved of her, that much was clear.

  Well, she didn’t like him much, either.

  So why did his disapproval strike so deeply, then?

  * * * * *

  When Lindsay got home, the house was dark and still. She threaded her way through the familiar rooms to the kitchen and turned on the light, then stood with her head down, listening.

  Yes, there was the muffled shriek of the electric sander.

  Her father was down in the basement, building another bed, chair, table or some such piece of furniture.

  Lindsay grabbed a tub of yogurt from the refrigerator, a teaspoon from the dish drainer next to the sink and headed for the basement.

  Both rows of neon tubes were lit, flooding the basement with merciless white light. Working on the center bench, her father was bent over an odd-shaped piece of wood, eyeing the edge of it.

  Lindsay stepped through the piles of soft wood shavings and sawdust to his side and kissed his bald spot. She leaned back against the bench and opened the yogurt and ate hungrily.

  Edward Eden smiled at her, a quick glance, before returning his attention back to the wood in his hands.

  “Warped?” she asked.

  He pursed his lips and wiggled one hand with the fingers spread, expressing his dilemma.

  She eyed the wood. “It looks fine to me.”

  It took him a minute to answer. “So says the girl who can’t write straight unless she has lines drawn for her.”

  Lindsay smiled. “Neither can you,” she pointed out.

  “Which is why the universe invented straight rules.” He reached for the metal rule hanging from a tack on the leg of the bench. He measured carefully. “You’re home early,” he observed, without sparing his attention from the edge of the wood.

  “Mmm,” Lindsay agreed noncommittally. “Do you want help with something?”

  He did glance at her, then. But he returned to his work. “You might sand the curves on those pieces on the back bench. The sander can’t reach the inner curves.”

  “Okay.” She put her yogurt container aside and picked up a piece of sandpaper and the first of the pieces on the bench. She recognized the shape. “You’re doing another rocking horse?”

  “I thought it was time. Most of the people we work for these days seem to have small children.”

  “I like the rocking horse,” she said.

  She had seen at least a dozen of the colorful wooden horses built in this basement over the years. Her father, ever since she could remember, built furniture to help furnish the homes that the Habitat for Humanity group built or refurbished for needy people.

  Often, she helped. The process of building furniture was soothing and restoring and she could easily disengage from the world here in this well-maintained basement, listening to her father’s quiet instructions.

  She began sanding down the tight curves around the horse’s mane and tail.

  “What troubles you, little one?” her father asked after a few minutes’ silence.

  For the next few hours, Lindsay gradually told her father the story of her day. She’d often done this—come to say hello and lingered to work and offload her problems. They emerged bit by bit. Offhand comments, followed by long silences, then her father would ask another simple question that would prompt her to speak of another facet of whatever problem she was dealing with.

  It was ironic that among the lumber, paint and nails, in a room reeking with chemicals and glues and while they had their backs to each other, each of them absorbed in the task at hand, both of them could talk of what was in their hearts.

  Put them in a comfor
table room, facing each other and they were almost totally unable to communicate. Lindsay was aware of this oddity they shared but had learned to work with it.

  Around midnight, her father straightened and stretched, his hands on the back of his hips. Lindsay paused, becoming aware of the lateness of the hour. It occurred to her that neither of them had spoken for quite some time.

  He glanced at her, his eyes shadowed by the fierce jut of his shaggy eyebrows. “This president you want to woo.”

  “The president of the medical association?”

  He nodded.

  Woo. Well, yes, that was what she needed to do if she was going to snatch this account out from under Luke’s nose.

  “You might join the country club.”

  “He’s a member?”

  “He likes to ski, I believe.”

  Skiing. Her heart sank. “I don’t know anything about skiing.”

  Her father shrugged. “How badly do you want the account?”

  Well, there was always that.

  “This Luke,” Edward added. “He is a bad man?”

  “Bad? I don’t know. I don’t respect him.”

  Edward picked up the broom and began sweeping curls of wood shavings toward the center of the room. “But you don’t like that he doesn’t respect you.”

  Lindsay picked up the brush and pan and began shoveling up sawdust and dumping it in the big garbage can in the corner. It took her a moment to answer.

  “I don’t like his disapproval,” she admitted. “I don’t know why.”

  “You value his good opinion, is all. Which doesn’t match with not respecting him.”

  She nodded. Her father’s logic was irrefutable. He had been an astronomer and physicist before his retirement and his mind was still sharp. She always thought hard before dismissing anything he said that didn’t fit well with her. More often than she liked, he was right.

  “Then perhaps it’s because I don’t trust him.”

  “He would let you down? He would not help you if you needed it and he had promised?”

  Lindsay shook her head. She didn’t know from direct experience but she knew anyway that Luke would not break his word once it was given. Call it gut instinct. She had never heard anyone at the office say he had let them down, either. Certainly, she had never heard a client or potential client claim he had failed to meet his promises to them.