Project Seduction Read online

  It just might work.

  "Perhaps that would be fun,” Georgina agreed. “I've never seen a real gun, let alone fired one."

  "Great. I'll tell my dad to set it up.” Brightening, Andy skipped over to the front door. She raised her hand in a hasty farewell as she dashed out to the stairwell.

  "Did you fix the heating?” Georgina called out after her.

  "No. I'll have to get my dad to come up. He'll know how to do it. He's still sleeping. I'll get him to come over as soon as he wakes up."

  Georgina gaped at the open doorway. Rick would come up, and she was in a mess. She spun to check her face in the mirror. Her hair hung in a tangle, and blotches marred her skin. In her eyes, red veins radiated out of the iris, like a roadmap out of central London.

  Ice water. That would fix it. She slammed the front door shut and ran into the kitchen.

  At least the apartment wasn't in a state. She had hidden the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. The small round table attached to the countertop at one end was empty, except for the red and white gingham cloth that covered it. Georgina had been puzzled by that when she first moved in, because the rest of the apartment was unfurnished. She'd discovered the reason when she stripped off the cloth and found the cigarette burns underneath.

  She extracted a tray of ice cubes out of the freezer and carried it into the bathroom. The water from the tap over the ice made crackling sounds. One by one the ice cubes popped loose and began to float around in the filling sink. Georgina discarded the empty tray and dunked her face into the water. One, two, three, she counted. Ten seconds, and up for a gasp of air.

  After a few minutes her eyes stopped hurting, and her skin glowed. She scrubbed her face dry with a towel and brushed her hair loose. Then she hurried into the bedroom.

  She'd barely stripped out of her T-shirt and panties when the doorbell buzzed. Her mind went blank. What should she wear? She couldn't think. If she didn't go to the door, Rick would leave. He'd think she was unwilling to forgive him. They'd never speak to each other again. One day when she was an old woman, she'd use her pension savings to fly out to America and look for him, only to find out that he'd died years ago.

  Such a disaster had to be avoided at all costs. Suddenly the prospect that Rick Matisse might not wait behind the door until she was ready to open it seemed more alarming than anything else that could happen to her.

  Stark naked, Georgina ran out to the hallway.

  "Who is it?” she shouted through the door.

  "Rick. Andy said you've got a problem with your heating."

  "Yes!"

  There was a short silence.

  "If you want me to take a look, you've got to let me in.” She could hear the amusement in his voice.

  Georgina glanced down her naked front. She knew her body wasn't what he meant to take a look at, but that didn't stop the warm tingle that surged all over her skin.

  "I need a minute,” she yelled. “You'll have to wait."

  She didn't stop to listen for a reply. Instead, she rushed back into the bedroom where she began to pull clothes out of the wardrobe. Her hands shook, and the hangers got tangled up with each other.

  Whimpering with distress, she threw everything on the floor and covered her face with her hands. What was happening to her? She was a cool and competent person with a first-rate logical mind. She couldn't be falling apart because she didn't know what to wear in front of the man who was coming in to fix the heating.

  She closed her eyes and reached down to grab a hanger at random. A flimsy summer dress with an abstract pattern in muted shades of green, one of her new clothes. A good choice. Her fingers shook as she untangled the slim straps from the hooks on top of the hanger.

  She heard Rick's voice drifting in from the hallway, but couldn't make out the words. He was going to leave her, and never come back. Georgina tossed the dress over her head and ran into the hall, stopping behind the door just long enough to make sure the dress wasn't on back-to-front, and that the short hem hung untangled past her hips. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Rick wasn't there.

  Georgina rushed outside and spun around. There was no sign of him. She couldn't stop the wail of anguish that rose deep inside her.

  "Are you all right?” He stepped out through a narrow door in the corner of the landing. A few long strides had him by her side.

  The sensation of relief was indescribable, and the urge to propel her body into his arms was as powerful as it was inappropriate. “I'm fine,” Georgina said stiffly, her eyes riveted on him. For God's sake, the man's come up to fix the heating. Get a grip.

  Rick eyed her with curiosity. “I thought I heard you cry out."

  "I stubbed my toe.” Georgina stared down at her bare feet. There'd been something about red nail polish on her list, but that wasn't for a couple of weeks yet.

  "I was just checking when the elevator is due for the next inspection,” Rick explained.

  "Oh. Is that what it is? I've never noticed that door before."

  "It's concealed on purpose. Elevators are an easy target for vandals, and they cost a lot to repair."

  "Oh."

  "You want me to look at your heating?"

  She nodded, taking in his appearance. There were signs of a hasty shave over his face. The stubble from last night was gone, but he'd missed a thin strip by his left ear. Then Georgina swallowed, as she realized it was on purpose. The scab from where she'd cut him with her handbag almost a week ago created a little island that needed to be left alone. Her arm twitched as she fought the temptation to raise her hand and run her fingers along the healing scar.

  "Are you sure you're all right?” Rick's gaze swept over her.

  "What?” she said dreamily.

  Perplexed, he shook his head and stepped in past her.

  No, I'm not, Georgina thought. I'm not all right at all, but I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

  She dawdled on the landing until she could no longer delay following him inside. He stood in the middle of the hall, looking strong and capable in the jeans that fit just right, not too tight, not too baggy, and in the neatly tucked white shirt. The cuffs were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and he fiddled with the temperature dial.

  "Have you interfered with the inlet valve in the bathroom?” he asked without turning to her.

  "I don't even know what that is, or where it is."

  "Is it all right if I take a look?"

  Georgina froze. The bathroom. Was there a mess? Had she pulled out the plug? Were the ice-cubes still swimming around in the sink?

  "Let me just check if it needs tidying up.” She eased past him, keeping as much distance between their bodies as she could.

  The basin was still full of water and ice. She pulled the plug, but the cubes were too big to go down the hole. She scooped them into her bare hands and tossed them down the toilet, cringing at the plopping sounds they made when they hit the water. There was nothing else that needed concealing, except for the empty ice tray. She shoved it in the rubbish bin, making a mental note to retrieve it later. Then she closed the zip on her make up case, and quickly rinsed out the white gunk at the bottom of her tooth mug.

  "You can come in now.” She pulled the door open.

  "I live with a girl who's almost a teenager,” Rick said as he entered. “I don't think there's much that could shock me about women's bathroom habits."

  Georgina felt her body grow hot. She was trapped in the dead space in the corner, between the basin and the washing machine. Rick stood the gap that was her only way out.

  "It's different when it is family,” Georgina said, her voice raspy. She cleared her throat, then fell silent.

  Rick gave her a quick glance, but didn't offer any comment. Instead, he moved closer, and craned his neck to peer up to the corner of the ceiling.

  "The inlet valve is that little box that pushes out of the wall right at the top,” he told her. “There's a lever on i
t. I need to you to step on top of the washing machine and check what position the lever is in."

  "I can't do that,” Georgina blurted out. She could feel the heat that radiated from her skin and knew her face had blushed scarlet. Damn her skin that betrayed her embarrassment so easily.

  "You're much lighter than me. I don't want to put a dent in your washing machine,” Rick explained.

  "I can't do it."

  "Care to tell me why?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  Behind the amusement, Georgina felt a hard edge. She knew she'd never want to be interrogated by him. At least not when she had something to hide.

  "Fear of heights,” she said. Her face remained totally composed.

  Rick stared at her, trying to control the smile that was breaking over his face. In the end he gave up and grinned at her. “That's not exactly Mount Everest."

  "I know. It's a washing machine. But it's white, which reminds me of snow. That makes it worse."

  "I'll hold you. You can't fall."

  "That's not the point."

  "No,” Rick agreed. Suddenly every trace of a smile left his face. “The point is, Angelina would like to be friends with you. I don't let my daughter associate with someone I can't trust, and I can't trust anyone who lies to me. However trivial the lie, however innocent the reason, it makes no difference to me. So, either you tell me the truth right now, or you agree to keep away from my daughter."

  Georgina felt her mouth go dry. She fixed her eyes on the top button of his shirt and locked her gaze there. “I don't have any underwear on,” she said in a dull tone. “That's the reason why I can't climb on top of the washing machine with you standing there."

  Rick stood absolutely still for a few seconds. Then the whole room rocked as he burst into a roar of laughter.

  Georgina let her gaze drift up and saw him choking with it. “It's not that funny,” she shouted over the noise.

  "Yes it is.” He shook his head, his shoulders heaving. “I'm a cop. My job is dealing with organized crime. When people lie to me, I imagine the worst."

  "What did you imagine?"

  He shrugged. The laughter subsided into a massive grin. “Nothing specific. But something serious. Not just lack of underwear.” He reached out and brushed the tips of her hair with his fingers. “When I'm gone, climb up and take a look at the lever. It should be in the middle for the thermostat to work properly. If it's on the right, it will disable the thermostat and send out constant heat. If the lever is on the right, just push it back into the middle."

  Although Georgina hadn't felt his touch on her hair, the awareness of the gesture sent a shiver down her spine. “I can handle that,” she said awkwardly. “And what if it doesn't work?"

  "Then let me know. I'll get the maintenance guys to come out on Monday."

  "All right.” Georgina stood in the corner, a prisoner of the strong body that blocked her way out. She decided that the sensation of being trapped was far from unpleasant.

  Suddenly her face lit up. They were flirting. No doubt about it. A man and a woman standing within a foot of each other and talking about her lack of underwear had to be flirting. She'd achieved her first milestone.

  With alarm, she noticed the sudden narrowing of Rick's eyes. She could see the muscles on his arm flex as his hand prepared to reach out for her again.

  He might try to kiss her, and that would be no good, because the next step on her flowchart after flirting was a date. Experience had taught her that deviating from a project plan would only lead to trouble later.

  "I'm afraid I'm in a hurry for an appointment,” she told him stiffly. “I'll let you know if the problem was with the lever."

  His arm fell back, and his expression went blank. “In that case, I'll not delay you.” He turned to go. Then he whirled back. “Angelina said you'd like to learn to shoot. I'd be happy to take you to a range one evening."

  "I ... yes ... could we do it during the weekend? I work late in the evenings."

  "Sure. Next weekend any good for you?"

  Georgina gave her head a feverish shake. “No."

  He regarded her evenly. “The weekend after?"

  "No."

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps you can let me know when."

  Georgina bit her lip, watching him retreat. “Wait. I think I got it wrong.” She took a step after him. “Next weekend would be fine. Saturday. Yes. That's good."

  His mouth pursed in the way that always made her insides tighten. “Saturday? That works for me. I'll call you to tell you what time."

  "All right. Do you want me to meet you somewhere, or will we go together from here?"

  He looked at her as though she'd gone mad. “I'll pick you up and bring you back, of course."

  She gave him a small frown but didn't argue. Plenty of time to find out later why there was an ‘of course’ about it.

  * * * *

  The rest of Georgina's weekend went to waste. She couldn't relax. And when she tried to work, her mind wouldn't focus. Instead, her thoughts kept returning to Rick Matisse.

  Perhaps Annabel was right. Her project could turn into a disaster. On Saturday night she hardly slept with the worry. On Monday morning she was grateful to escape to the organized world of Pacific Bank.

  As soon at the clock struck nine, Georgina telephoned AVIS. She worked her way through four people, all equally baffled by her request. Finally she was put through to the regional manager. Rental cars were not available for purchase, he told her firmly. Feeling a little fragile, Georgina didn't put up her usual fight to bend the rules. She simply passed the rental documents to Annabel, with a request to find a similar car for her to purchase.

  At ten she had to rush off to a meeting, where her concentration was so poor that twice she had to ask for a question to be repeated before she could answer.

  When she got back, she ran the name of Huston, Skillings, Pendleton through the bank's computer. They were indeed a customer, with current accounts in US and Canadian Dollars, as well as Mexican Pesos, Euros, and British Pounds.

  Huston, Skillings, Pendleton also had two revolving credit facilities, both of which were paying a high rate of interest, as the firm's credit rating had been downgraded twice in the past year.

  Georgina dialed Client Services and tracked down the relevant Relationship Manager.

  "Marguerite, hi,” she said into the receiver. “I need some background on one of your clients."

  "Which one?"

  "Huston, Skillings, Pendleton."

  "Overextended. They've been expanding too fast. Swallowing up small practices up and down the West Coast."

  "Are they going down the tubes?"

  "No, no. They're basically sound. But they've been so desperate to stick the word ‘International’ on their letterhead that they've made silly deals. In my view, they overpaid vastly for an acquisition in Vancouver six months ago. They've called off the spending spree now. The cash flow is positive. They are meeting repayments on time."

  "Could you drop their rates?"

  "What's up? Something I should know?” Marguerite's voice grew clearer. Georgina could picture how she straightened up in her chair and adjusted her headset.

  "It's personal. A friend of mine is a client of theirs. I was hoping to get his case expedited. Could we throw a bone?"

  "Let me look."

  Georgina waited, listening to the clicking of a keyboard.

  "The four point three million loan is due for a rollover next month,” Marguerite said. “I could shave off twenty basis points."

  "Can't you do better than that?"

  Marguerite clucked her tongue. “Fifty's my best offer."

  "Can you commit?” Georgina waited a few seconds. When there was no reply from Marguerite, she carried on. “You owe me, remember? Bellamundo Wines? They always forget to give the two day notice on their Swiss time deposit when they need to make a payment. I can't remember how many times I've cooked the wire transfer system to get their money moving."
/>   "All right.” Marguerite let out a sigh. “But that makes us square."

  "Done. Thanks. Is it all right if I go ahead and talk to them myself?"

  "As long as you clearly state it's an informal discussion and non-binding until they get a written confirmation from me."

  "Will do. Thanks, Marguerite. You're a superstar."

  "Can you come and tell that to my fourteen-year old?"

  Georgina glanced at her watch. “Oh? What's the problem?"

  "It was her birthday yesterday. I spent over a hundred bucks on a pair of High-Lo sneakers with a red stripe around the heel."

  "Sounds a lot,” Georgina said cautiously.

  "It seems that the ones with the red stripe, which were ultra-cool only a month ago are now, like, so totally yesterday. So now I've got keep the ones with the red stripe myself and go out and blow another hundred bucks on the ones with a blue wavy line instead."

  "Why don't you just take them back to the shop and swap them?"

  "I would, but I've lost the receipt and the ones with the red stripe are down to thirty bucks in the sale."

  Georgina chuckled. “Bummer."

  Marguerite sighed again. “That's teenagers for you. They are an alien species with secret methods of mass communication that the federal government would pay a fortune to get their hands on."

  Georgina put the phone down. She wondered if Rick was equipped to cope with what lay ahead of him when Andy got older.

  Then she spent a few moments practicing before she dialed Huston, Skillings, Pendleton.

  The one named Pendleton turned out to be the managing partner. His secretary screened his calls. It took considerable effort to get through without explaining the reason for her call.

  "Charles Pendleton.” The voice rang smooth and cultured. Georgina pictured an older version of Gary Grant.

  "I understand that you are representing Mr. Ricardo Matisse in the case for the custody of the minor child Angelina Patissier."

  "Perhaps you could explain where you interest lies Miss...” There was a brief pause and the sound of shuffling papers. “...Coleman."