Envy (17 page)

"We know why I kissed you last night, Maris."

"To frighten me off."

He frowned. "That doesn't even merit an argument. I kissed you because you braved Terry's and showed up everybody in the place, including me.

I kissed you because just looking at you made me ache. I kissed you because I'm a rotten son of a bitch and your mouth looked so goddamn kissable.

Simply put, I kissed you because I wanted to. It's something I admit and you damn well know. But there is one question that's driving me fucking crazy."

His eyes focused harder on hers and, by doing so, penetrated. "Why did you kiss me back?"

CHAPTER 12

Maris's call came at an inopportune

time, but Noah figured he had better take it to avoid her becoming suspicious. Even though he had a meeting scheduled in ten minutes, he asked his assistant to put her call through. "Darling!

I'm so glad to hear from you."

"It's nice to finally talk to you, too," she said. "It's been so long, your voice sounds strange."

"Strange?"

"My ears have become attuned to a southern drawl."

"God help you."

"Even worse, I've actually slipped and said `y'allà few times, and I've

acquired a taste for grits. The secret is

#lots of salt and pepper and drenching them ###287

in butter."

"Keep packing down a diet like that and you'll return to me fat."

"Don't be surprised if I do. What the southerners don't cook in butter, they cook in bacon grease, and it's all delicious. Have you ever had fried green tomatoes?"

"Like the movie title?"

"And the book. Both named after the real thing.

Dredged in cornmeal, fried in bacon grease, they're scrumptious. Mike taught me how to make them."

"The author extraordinaire also cooks?"

"Mike's not the author. He's ... well, Mike does just about everything around here except the writing."

Noah checked the sterling Tiffany clock on his desk and wondered when he could gracefully break this off. "Is the book coming along? How's it working out with the author?"

"He's talented, Noah. He's also

opinionated, difficult at times, and impossible at others. But he's a challenge I can't resist."

"So the trip has been productive?"

"Yes. And unless there's something that requires me to come home, I'm going to stay here through the weekend and spoon-feed him constructive criticism and encouragement. There's no reason for me to rush back, is there?"

"Besides my missing you, no."

"Your missing me is no small thing."

"I wouldn't selfishly have you return strictly on my account. I can tell by the enthusiasm in your voice that you're enjoying being a hands-on editor again."

"Very much. Are you writing."

"When I can. I've been busy going over second-quarter reports, but I've managed to put in a couple hours writing each evening."

After a short pause, he asked, "You aren't going to start nagging me about my output, are you?"

"I wouldn't call it nagging."

"Just remember it's a part-time job, Maris.

It can't take precedence over my

responsibilities here."

"I understand. It's just that I'm eager to read something new by my favorite author."

"Don't hold your breath. It might take a

#while and the process can't be rushed." #####289

"Has your idea gelled?"

"It's getting there," he replied evasively.

"Whatever you write will be well worth the wait."

"If you've got that much time for leisure reading, we're not keeping you busy enough."

"No worry there," she said with a laugh.

"I've got my hands full with this project, in addition to the other manuscripts coming due in the next few months. I'll be editing in my sleep."

He liked the sound of that. If she was distracted by work, he'd be freer to devote more time to finalizing his deal with WorldView. He was feeling the pressure of the deadline unexpectedly set by Morris Blume. While it was uncomfortably compressing, he welcomed having a definite goal, a finish line toward which to make a final push.

He wasn't panicked, but he definitely experienced an adrenaline rush every time he thought about it. He was confident he would meet the deadline. If for any reason he didn't, he was equally confident that he could persuade Blume to extend it. The CEO coveted Matherly Press too much to relinquish it over a matter of days.

Meanwhile, this was a perfect time for Maris to be out of town. Her absence made it more convenient for him to manipulate Daniel. The old man had to be carefully finessed. Subtlety was key.

Hit Daniel over the head with something, and he would fight it to his dying breath. Stroke him lightly, and his mind could be changed. Perhaps not as easily as most, but Noah didn't doubt his ability to eventually whittle down all of his father-in-law's objections to a merger.

Maris's absence also allowed him more time with Nadia. She could be a harpy if she was unhappy, and she was unhappiest when deprived of the time and attention she felt she deserved.

"I can't wait for you to read this book, Noah," Maris said, drawing him back into their conversation.

What had she been talking about for the last few minutes? Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't retained a word of what she'd said. He couldn't see that his inattention mattered much.

###"The author hasn't shared with me the ####291

whole plot," she went on, "but I think it's going to be good."

"If you think it's going to be good, then it will be. Listen, darling, I hate to cut short our conversation, but I'm due down the hall in two minutes."

"So what else is new?" She posed the question tongue-in-cheek and without rancor. Their exchanges during work hours were typically brief.

"I have a meeting with Howard, and you know what a stickler he is about punctuality." Howard Bancroft was Matherly Press's chief

counsel and head of the legal department. "If I'm a nanosecond late, he'll stay miffed for days."

"What's the meeting about?"

"I can't recall off the top of my head.

Something to do with one of our foreign licensees, I believe."

"I hate to get you on Howard's bad side," she said, "but there is something else I wanted to talk about."

He had to work at keeping the impatience out of his voice. "Then I'll take the time. What's on your mind?"

"Is Dad all right?"

"Seems to be. I saw him last evening and talked to him again this morning."

"He came into the office?"

"No, he called to ask if I could muddle through without him today. I urged him to take off not only today but the remainder of the week. You're not here, so we haven't any scheduled meetings that I can't handle alone. It's an ideal time for him to take it easy."

"He'll get bored."

"Actually he's got a fairly heavy schedule. He said he planned to spend the morning at his desk at home to handle some personal chores, then he was having a late lunch with an old crony. They were meeting at the Four Seasons."

"Lunch with an old crony," she repeated absently. "I hope he doesn't drink too much wine."

"He's certainly earned the right to have a few glasses of wine at lunch if he wants them, Maris."

"I know, but I worry about him negotiating the

#stairs at home. With that weakness in his ####293

joints--was

"He needs full command of his equilibrium.

I see your point."

"When someone his age falls and breaks a hip, they sometimes never completely recover. He couldn't abide being bedridden."

"I'll ask Maxine to keep a closer eye on him."

"No! That would start World War Three," she exclaimed. "He'll get mad at her for babying him, and then he'll get mad at me for asking her to."

"Another good point," he said. "How about

..."

"What?"

"Well, I was going to suggest that I talk to him about it. Caution him confidentially. Man to man."

"Yes," she said, sounding relieved. "I like that plan much better."

"Then I'll go over this evening and have a chat with him."

"Thank you, Noah."

"You're welcome. Anything else?"

"Why?"

"Howard's waiting on me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. I shouldn't have kept you."

"Nonsense. This was important." He wanted to end the call quickly, but he didn't want to leave her worrying over Daniel.

Concern might bring her rushing back. "Maris, don't worry about Daniel," he said tenderly.

"He's a tough old bird, stronger than we give him credit for. There's really no cause for alarm. If anything, over the past few days he's seemed more like his old self. Full of piss and vinegar."

"I'm sure you're right. It's just that when I'm not with him, my imagination gets away from me and I start worrying."

"Unnecessarily, I assure you. Now, forgive me, but I really must run."

"Apologize to Howard for me. Tell him it's all my fault that you're late."

"Don't worry. I will." He chuckled.

"'Bye, now."

"Noah," she added just before he disconnected,

"I love you."

###For a moment, he was taken aback. #####295

Then, in the absentminded way of a devoted but preoccupied husband, he replied, "I love you, too, darling."

Professions of love meant nothing to him. They were sequences of words without any relevance. He'd told many a woman that he loved her, but only when trying to woo her into bed. He'd vocally expressed his love for Maris when they were courting because it was expected. He'd vowed his love for her in order to win her father's blessing on their marriage, and he'd played the expressive newlywed husband to the hilt. But in the last several months his avowals had become increasingly infrequent.

By contrast, Maris had an affectionate nature. She was touchy-feely to an irritating degree. She declared her love at least once a day, and while he'd become accustomed to hearing it, he still felt no connection to the sentiment.

But this most recent profession of love gave him pause. It wasn't the words themselves that had been curious, but the manner in which she'd spoken them. It had sounded to him almost as though she were trying to reestablish, either in his mind or her own, that she loved him. Had the surprise anniversary party failed to reassure her of his devotion? Did she still suspect him of infidelity?

As he breezed past Bancroft's assistant with barely a nod and entered the counsel's private office, the exchange with Maris lingered on his mind. It had raised questions that required further thought. Her "I love you" had been declared with an undercurrent of desperation. He must determine what, if anything, that signified.

One thing was certain: She would not be proclaiming her love for him if she knew the contents of the folder he carried into the lawyer's office with him.

"Hello, Howard. Sorry I'm late."

He banged ahead to prevent Bancroft from remarking on his tardiness. "I was on the telephone with Maris, informing her that she would be receiving this document either tomorrow or the day after at the latest. She's in the boonies, on the

outskirts of nowhere, but she assured me that the parcel carriers deliver."

Without invitation he sat down on an

upholstered love seat and spread his arms along the back of it, a study in nonchalance. Looking through the windows behind the attorney's desk, he remarked, "You know, Howard, I don't know what

#you did to rate this office. It's got ####297

an incredible view."

His cavalier attitude was calculated

to distract Bancroft from the business at hand. But he knew from experience that the little Jew was no pushover. His wizened appearance added a decade to his age. He stood five feet five inches tall in elevated shoes. He had a bald, pointed head with a distinct knob on the crown. He favored wide suspenders and wore them with tweed trousers regardless of the season. On his nose were perched small round reading glasses. Howard Bancroft looked like a gnome. Or exactly what he was--a shrewd legal mind.

"Is the document ready?" Noah asked, even though the referenced document was lying in plain view on the lawyer's desk.

"It's ready," Bancroft replied.

"Thank you for preparing it so expediently."

Noah leaned forward and reached for the document, but Bancroft laid his heavily veined and spotted hand on it. "Not so fast, Noah. I'm unwilling to let you have this today."

"Why's that?"

"I followed your directives and drew up the document as you requested, but ... May I be candid?"

"That would save time."

"I was reluctant to write the document as you specified. Its content is troubling."

The lawyer removed his glasses and began polishing them with a large white handkerchief he'd taken from his pants pocket. Shaking it out, it looked to Noah as though he were waving a flag of surrender, which he might just as well do. Howard Bancroft could not win this fight.

"Oh? How is it troubling?" Noah gave his voice just enough edge to caution the attorney that Noah's reasons for requesting the document were not open for discussion. They weren't even to be questioned.

Bancroft, however, did not take the hint.

"You're certain that Maris approves of this?"

"I made the request on her behalf, Howard."

"Why does she feel that such a document is necessary?"

"You know as I do, as Maris does, that publishing isn't the gentleman's cottage industry it was a century ago. It's gone cutthroat like everything else. If you stand still in this

#marketplace, you'd just as well be #######299

backing up. If you're merely maintaining the status quo, your competitors will pass you by, and before you can blink, you're in last place. We don't want Matherly Press to be choking on the heel dust of the others, do we?"

"That's a stirring speech, Noah. I suggest you deliver it at the next sales conference to rally the troops. However, I fail to see how the valid points you made relate to either my question or this document."

"That document," Noah said, pointing to it where it still lay on the desk, "is our safety net.

Publishing is changing constantly and swiftly.

Matherly Press must be prepared for any contingency. We must be able to operate with fluidity, so that if an opportunity arises, it can be immediately seized."

"Without Daniel's consent."

Noah assumed a sad expression. "Ah, Howard, that's the hitch. It breaks Maris's heart, as it does mine, that Daniel is getting on in years. That's a sad fact we've been forced to accept. If he should take a sudden downward turn, say a stroke that renders him incapable of making business decisions, this power of attorney guarantees a smooth transition and protects the company from being pitched into chaos."