The Edge of Recall Read online

  “Thank you, dear. I’ve gathered as much.”

  “He’s an oaf.”

  “A total prat.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Wait, I suppose. Fancy rummy?”

  She punched his shoulder. “I want to go back.”

  “Does that mean you’ve decided to continue?”

  She opened her mouth, but his phone rang. He answered. “Yes, Mr. Gaston. We’ll be right down.” He pocketed the phone. “I know you’re a professional, Tessa—”

  “But?”

  “But I feel I must beg you not to antagonize him further.”

  “No problem.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ll wait up here.”

  “I very much wish you could. But he’s summoned us both.” He reached for her hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to play it more intimately between us.”

  “Why?”

  “For your protection.”

  “From …”

  “Innuendo, coarse comments, or worse.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Trust me, he would. He thrives on discomfort. He has us— me—in a pinch. If we’re a couple, it may inhibit his game.”

  She scowled. “I hate this.”

  “It’s not such a terrible thought, is it? Being a couple?”

  “That’s not what I meant. People shouldn’t manipulate through fear and … and …”

  “They shouldn’t, but some do. I’m sorry.”

  “For once, it’s not your fault.” She drew back her shoulders and flung open the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

  But Gaston didn’t want it over with. He insisted they lunch with him, though the thought killed any appetite she had.

  “Is Petra joining us?” Tessa barely kept a civil tone as his smirk set her teeth on edge.

  “She’s being pampered in the spa.”

  Out of range of any potential insurrection. That seemed to be all he wanted to say about his fiancée, though he proceeded to sing his own praises. Throughout the meal, Smith gave subtle indications of relationship. At one point he wrapped his arm over her shoulders. While done for Gaston’s benefit, it still felt nice and bolstered her.

  Maybe she was overreacting, but there was something unsettling in Gaston’s eyes, some element common to bullies that searched for cracks in others. She didn’t claim to be a pillar of strength, but most people didn’t set off alarms in her head. Could his have been the repellent force she sensed in the labyrinth? Was the ground crying out against him?

  Smith maintained his dynamic and professional manner as they discussed not only the current project, but other ideas they both had. His eyes had a luminescence when describing what he saw with his inner eye, what he would translate first to paper, then structure. If Rumer Gaston wasn’t impressed, he ought to have been.

  The strain of maintaining a marginal deference lodged in her neck. She had to admire Smith’s ability to rise above. He could have been a diplomat—or a con artist.

  When they had finished eating, Mr. Gaston once again equivocated about their flight. He gave Smith a few noncommittal assurances, then casually spread his hand. “I’ll let you know when it’s convenient for you to leave.”

  She had a keen impression of a cat letting the mice emerge just far enough from their hole before he pounced. It made her more angry than afraid, and Smith finally seemed to have had enough.

  He straightened. “Maybe we should secure a commercial flight.” Her heart leapt. She would fly cargo to get out of there.

  Smith’s tone was eminently reasonable. “We both have work to do, and—”

  “You work for me.” Gaston eased back in his chair. “On my schedule.”

  Smith looked momentarily nonplussed, but recovered. “I can expense the tickets, and—”

  “There’s no need for that. Petra and I are flying into Denver in an hour. You can go with us. After we land there, you and Ms. Young can continue on to D.C.”

  They were flying in an hour and he hadn’t said so? Maybe he’d been waiting for Smith to challenge him. He looked satisfied with the frustration that had flashed in Smith’s face.

  Although the thought of flying with them was thoroughly unpalatable, Smith accepted. They worked out the details of timing and transportation to the jet. Smith’s aplomb impressed and annoyed her. If he could kowtow so convincingly, how real were any of his signals?

  While professionally appropriate for the owner to communicate directly with the architect heading the project, Rumer Gaston so utterly excluded her from the discussion she felt like furniture. Gaston made no attempt at the smarmy charm he’d faked last night. Had Petra told him about their conversations? Did he consider her a threat?

  Dismissed at long last, Smith ushered her to her room and retreated to his own. Though she could not wait to get out of the casino, the thought of being trapped in the jet with Rumer Gaston twisted her stomach. She didn’t mind flying in the least, and it was quite possible she’d flown with people far worse and never known. But there was something about him that made her hands sweat. She sat down on the bed and called Dr. Brenner, but he was away at a conference.

  “No, it’s not an emergency,” she told his receptionist. It wasn’t. She knew that. Watching Rumer Gaston shut Petra down had keyed into something inside that she couldn’t access or process alone, but it wasn’t an emergency.

  At the knock, she opened the door. “Smith, I can’t fly with him. I’d rather pay for my own ticket.”

  “I know.” His gaze went over her. “But he’s the owner. Uncomfortable as this may be, we need to remember that.”

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t own us. ”

  “He does, however, have final say over who completes the contract. An insult now would be unwise.”

  The truth made it no less frustrating.

  “Don’t blur the lines, Tess. This is business.”

  And she would act accordingly, but her stomach churned. Things that needed to stay separate were already blurring. She took her bag from the bed and preceded him out the door.

  On the jet, Rumer Gaston continued his churlish refusal to acknowledge her. He chatted with Smith about his casinos and plans to expand his empire worldwide. He seemed to like the sound of his voice better than anything else. While he and Smith were engaged in that discussion, much of which was a repetition of the morning’s, Petra sent her several tense looks, obviously not wanting it known that she had sought her out the night before. She aggressively perused one magazine after another, commenting on each model’s flaws and strengths. The flaws took the day.

  Tessa made it through the flight in almost complete silence, even after Petra and Gaston disembarked at DIA for a limo trip to his casino in Black Hawk. Exhausted, she pondered the idea of shutting Rumor Gaston in the labyrinth. Obviously not reality, yet he had merged in her mind with the monster of her nightmares. That was the one she had to silence. The one she had to escape.

  Smith parked by the Land Rover outside the trailer. No surprise Bair had returned from the main office ahead of them. He had expected to be back long before this. Smith glanced at Tessa, concerned by her silence. If she expected to go back to their strictly business interface, he’d have a difficult time of it. He hadn’t said and done anything lightly, though now it seemed perhaps rashly.

  She got out and started for the trunk, but he caught her hand. “Tess.”

  “We should unload before we lose the light.”

  “It’s been a rotten, trying couple of days. One more delay won’t matter.”

  “We’ve had nothing but delays. Rumer Gaston is a manipulative control freak.”

  “A petty, domineering prat.”

  “An egomaniac.”

  “All mouth and no trousers.”

  She cracked a smile, and he held out his arms. “Come here.” He drew her in and lowered his face.

  “Bair’s—”

  “Irrelevant.” He kissed her softly.

/>   “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

  “He’ll think it’s brilliant. He’s been lobbying for us since you arrived.”

  “I’m just …”

  He brushed her lips with his thumb. “Afraid?”

  “I have to do this labyrinth, Smith. I can’t have two stressors.”

  “You still consider me that?”

  “No, I … I don’t know.”

  “Frankly, I’ve had one wreck of a relationship, and a rocky record with you so far. If anyone should be afraid, it’s me.”

  “Are you?”

  “Shockingly, no.” He felt more peaceful with the direction things had gone than he had with Danae. For the first time he wondered if he had really wanted her, or if she’d only made him believe that. Had he been an accidental accomplice to his own mistreatment?

  That would not happen again. Tessa might be unpredictable, but he could not imagine her being untrue. Her doubts were not insurmountable. “I want to take care of you.” An unprecedented sensation.

  “You can’t.”

  “I think I can.” He covered her fingers with his. “I think God’s planned it this way.”

  Her brow creased. “I don’t know how to take your new faith.”

  “Not new. I was raised in church.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I admit I became my own god for a while in college and thereafter, but I’ve reevaluated, and I’m not actually as brilliant as I believed.”

  She raised her brows. “No kidding.”

  “I now find things I had considered unnecessary quite applicable. Things like prayer and supplication.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Nothing, unless you meant the things you said last night. In which case my prayers for guidance are relevant to you as well. I want to do things right, not …” He shook his head. “Not blunder along as I have before.”

  “But how do you know what’s right? I don’t mean morally, but, just, personally?”

  “That’s where you have to trust. I don’t pretend to have the answers. But if I submit myself to God, I believe He will guide me, guide … us.”

  Her eyes pooled. He lowered his face and kissed her surprised mouth with tenderness, confidence, and desire. He knew her so much better, cared so much more than he’d realized. He wanted her to—

  The door sprang open. “There you—oh.”

  Smith released Tessa and turned to Bair, frustrated that their first deep connection had been so abruptly interrupted. “Don’t stand there gobsmacked, help us unload.”

  “Right.” Bair stepped off the stoop.

  Leaving Tessa looking dazed, Smith opened the trunk. They’d been loaded down with wood and marble and fabric samples Petra had collected. Gaston hadn’t objected to their taking the whole lot back with them, though it remained to be seen if any would pass his final say.

  They carried it all in. Tessa put her laptop down and looked around her desk with a frown. “Where are my drawings? And the horticulture manual?”

  Bair lowered a heap of samples to the floor in the corner. “Haven’t touched anything over there.”

  “I left them right here, on my desk.”

  Smith swept the room with his gaze. “Could you have brought them to your room? You were hazy when we left.”

  “I don’t think so.” She pressed her hands to her lower back. “But I’ll look when I get back.”

  “So?” Bair queried, expectantly.

  Smith turned. “Gaston approved the design, but moaned like billy-o over flying us back.”

  “What for?”

  “Maybe to punish my impudence in changing the plan, or to reestablish his control. Or simply because he’s arrogant.”

  Tessa turned. “He’s not simply arrogant. You’re arrogant, and I’ve never thought you evil.”

  Bair barked a laugh.

  Smith frowned. “I’m not arrogant; I’m confident.”

  She raised her brows. “I’m confident. You’re arrogant.”

  “Arrogance suggests an overinflated ego. Mine is appropriately inflated.” Did she really see herself as confident? Maybe professionally. And if she thought him arrogant, their moment outside may not have been as deep for her as for him. She turned to Bair. “But he recognized the genius of the design, so that’s what matters.”

  Genius? He did not take full credit for what they’d created, but still, no one had ever called his work genius.

  “Mr. Gaston’s ego is dangerous.”

  “At any rate, the sooner we’re done with this the better.” Tessa shivered.

  Bair frowned. “You all right?”

  She wasn’t. Something subtle had shifted, as though he’d looked away at the wrong moment.

  “I’m fine.” She expelled her breath. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  Smith walked her out. “What is it, Tess?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If you’re worried about Rumer Gaston, there’s no need for you to interact again.” He was the architect, Gaston the client. He would maintain a private and singular communication from now on, no need for any contact between Gaston and any member of his team. Whatever games Rumer Gaston played would be played with him directly.

  “I know.”

  “If it’s me …”

  She looked away. “I’m just tired.”

  They both were. “All right, then. We’ll talk in the morning.” He handed her the keys. “Drive carefully.”

  “You sound like Bair.”

  “Careful driving’s not in his nature.”

  “It is for me, apparently.” She freed her hair from the ponytail and worked her fingernails over her scalp. “He says it almost every time I leave.”

  “He’s been seeing you off?”

  “You didn’t notice.”

  “Should I have?” In trying hard to maintain their distance, had he missed something important?

  She drew a weary breath. “I need to go.”

  He wanted to pursue it, but her signals were all “back off,” and ignoring Tessa’s signals had proved hazardous. “All right. Good night.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  Smith sighed as he pulled the door closed behind him. “You may as well get it out before you burst.”

  Bair folded his arms. “I knew it. I didn’t have to see you snogging to know just how it was.”

  “I told you the problem was having her near.”

  “How near did you have her?”

  Smith scowled. “What do you think?”

  “A fancy casino. A stunning woman. A night together.” Bair shrugged. “A bloke might succumb to less. Especially when you’ve been gutted before.”

  “I wasn’t gutted. Disappointed, angry, but—”

  “Devastated,” Bair shot back. “I saw you.”

  “All right. Excuse me if I don’t bounce off women as easily as you.”

  “Easily?” Bair’s brow lowered. “You think paying for a son I never see is easy?”

  “I don’t mean that.”

  “I hardly knew her name until she came requesting DNA, but that doesn’t make any of it easy.”

  “I know that, Bair.”

  “Good, because that wasn’t me. It was the booze. And since then, nothing’s been easy.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that. I just—” Smith forked his fingers into his hair. “Look, we’re both frazzled. What you saw out there was … Tessa’s already talking herself out of it.”

  “Why would she?”

  Maybe he’d moved too fast, or come on too strong. “Because she doesn’t trust people. Some … deserted child syndrome. She’s telling herself all the ways I could disappoint her.” He walked through the bedroom to the bath. “By tomorrow, there could be complete animosity again.” She’d seemed so open, so hopeful. She’d admitted serious feelings for him, and he’d felt it—until the final chill when she said good-bye.

  “That’s a bleak view.”

  Bleak
er than he’d let on. Her mood shift concerned and disappointed him. He had done his best in a difficult situation, and if she blamed him for Gaston’s behavior and everything else out of his control, then it would not be a matter of whether, or how badly, but how soon he let her down. “Have you seen the toothpaste?”

  “I assumed you took it.”

  Smith turned. “I have a travel size in my dop.”

  Bair shook his head. “I didn’t find it earlier.”

  “That was a new tube.”

  “Guess we misplaced it.”

  As Tessa had misplaced her drawings? Her book? He cocked his jaw. “Anything else missing?”

  Bair caught the drift. “Don’t know. Let’s have a look.”

  They walked through, checking the closets, the desks. Bair shook his head. “Who would take toothpaste and leave a computer?”

  “It could be here. Nothing’s actually been nicked to this point. Only moved.”

  Bair frowned. “We seemed a little short of food, though I don’t remember exactly what we had.”

  “Food and toothpaste would be more useful than a computer to someone staked out somewhere.”

  Bair turned. “You think he was in here?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Door was locked when I came in.”

  “So he locked it behind him.”

  Bair went over, opened the door, and observed the lock. “Think he picked it?”

  Smith searched the room and paused at the window. “Or came through there.”

  “Small opening. And how would he maneuver?”

  “I don’t know. But it was unlatched.” He went over and pushed the window up, then lifted the air-conditioner down. “Look here. These scrapes.” Bare wood showed through the fresh paint peels.

  “And here again.” Bair pointed to another scrape at the base of the wall. “He must have lowered it down from the window to climb through. Awkward, wouldn’t you say?”

  “But not impossible.”

  “Don’t think I’d fit.”

  Smith nodded. “It would be a squeeze.”

  “So someone small.”

  “A kid?” Smith wondered aloud. Bair had called him childish. “A runaway?”

  “I’d think he’d steal anything he could pawn.”

  Smith nodded. “Quite. Well, we’re not going to solve it tonight.”