Project Seduction (28 page)

Annabel swallowed. Her legs buckled a little, and she took another halting step. “That doesn't sound stupid to me."

"Idiotic, more like. Why would a woman like you ever want to marry a man like me? You're old money, I'm broke. You're a raving beauty, I'm average. You're educated. I left school at sixteen to work on a building site."

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

Annabel's eyes began to twinkle through the tear-filled haze. “To marry you."

Danville froze. He stared at her for a few seconds, then cast a quick glance at Rick and Georgina, who had been completely excluded from the exchange. “What the heck,” he said. “Once a fool, always a fool.” He shrugged, then locked his gaze into Annabel's. “Annabel Fairfax, will you marry me?"

"Yes,” Annabel's voice shook, so she cleared her throat and said it again. “Yes."

Danville stood absolutely still, his face drained of all expression. When he finally spoke, his words came out on a hoarse rasp. “My car's outside. We can be in Vegas in three hours."

Annabel turned to Georgina. “Boss, I need the rest of the day off."

Georgina simply stared, speechless.

"I take it you're on board with the plan,” Rick said, reaching out to slap Danville on the shoulder. “Good luck. We won't talk again. You'll have to go through Annabel and Georgina if you need anything."

"I'll be back on Monday,” Annabel called out to Georgina as Danville, who'd not said another word, ushered her out through the door.

Georgina checked the speedometer to make sure she wasn't exceeding the speed limit. This was her fourth trip to Palm Springs in two months. Hidden amongst a stack of towels in her suitcase was a padded brown envelope containing one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash.

Her visits never lasted more than thirty minutes, and she'd never seen or spoken to Domenico Diaz again. Diego, the bigger and nastier of the two bodyguards, handed the money to her. He always made her count it. Georgina had no doubt that Diego had already counted the bundles of cash more than once. The sole purpose of the charade was to get her on videotape, handling the illicit funds.

That didn't trouble her. The project to trap Domenico Diaz was progressing well, which was all she cared about right now.

The blissfully happy newlyweds Annabel and Danville Lewis had found a parcel of land halfway between San Diego and Escondido. Domenico Diaz had wired the funds to acquire the land. He hadn't trusted Georgina with access to his Swiss accounts, nor had she been involved in setting up the real estate company, or preparing the loan documents.

Her role was strictly limited to picking up the cash and delivering it to Danville.

With the help of the San Diego Police Department, the building permits had been issued in record time. Much of the materials for the four homes had been ordered and paid for in cash. Annabel's meticulous accounts showed five hundred and seventeen thousand dollars worth of expenditure from undeclared sources.

They were ready to hand the evidence to Rick, and let the law do the rest of the work.

Roy Harris, the cop who'd delivered Georgina's flowers, had moved into Rick's apartment the week after Annabel's marriage. He'd turned out to be a big hulk of a man, with an unassailably optimistic view of the world. His looks weren't even average, but a stream of pretty girls paraded through his apartment.

He made them laugh. That was the key to his success. Everything turned into a joke with Roy, so that life no longer seemed to contain anything worth worrying about.

Georgina knew she'd miss Roy when he was gone. She refused to let her mind dwell on Rick. The two-month separation was the best thing that could have happened to them. It allowed her to regain control over her life, and have everything restored back to normal.

It made her shudder to think how she had gone up in flames when Rick made love to her by the pool on the Diaz estate, in broad daylight, in front of anyone who happened to be passing by. If she allowed him to get too close, he might be able to reach into her heart and mind as easily as he owned her body. The prospect filled her with a strange fear. She closed her mind to Rick during the day, but she couldn't keep him from creeping into her dreams as she tossed and turned alone at night.

Georgina sighed as a soft ballad came on the car radio. It seemed as if everything around her contrived to make her edgy with a longing which had no place in her life. She scanned the empty road ahead. Each time she drove out to Palm Springs, Roy instructed her to take a different route. Today she traveled south on Route 79, until she could join Highway 8 and turn west toward San Diego.

An unmarked white van stood parked on the roadside amongst boulders jutting out of the field of gravel. A thin man in a khaki uniform stood next to it, flagging her down. Georgina pressed her foot on the brake and came to a halt within a few paces of him.

The man strolled up to her and motioned her to wind down the window. Drops of sweat glistened on his narrow face, and his pale eyes strained against the sun.

"Can I see your license and registration, please."

"I don't have the registration with me,” Georgina said. “But I have my license.” She turned to her canvas bag on the passenger seat and began to rummage.

"I need you to step outside, Miss."

"Why?"

"Just do it, Miss.” The man smiled broadly, like it was some kind of joke.

"All right.” Georgina got out of the car. He took her arm and led her to the direction of the van.

Georgina craned her neck to look back over her shoulder. There were no other cars in sight. She was being escorted into a windowless vehicle, accompanied by a man who'd shown her no credentials. “Excuse me,” she said. “Can you show me a badge or something? Or can I make a phone call?"

"No need for that, Miss.” The man twisted a handle in the rear panel of the van and pulled it open. Then he pushed her forward. Georgina had no choice but to climb inside, unless she wanted to stumble against the high step and crash flat on her belly over the floor.

A shadow shifted behind her. Georgina flexed her muscles and prepared for a fight. She wasn't going to make it easy for them.

"Simmer down.” Rick moved closer and wrapped his arms around her.

She cried out his name, slumping against him in relief.

"Hello, sweetheart.” He spun her around and gave her a hard kiss on the lips. Then he straightened, almost bashing his head against the roof of the van.

Georgina stared up at him. He was silhouetted by the strong sun outside, but she could tell he was unshaven, and he had a deep tan, as though he'd spent much of the past two months outdoors.

Warmth and comfort soared through her, like a homecoming after a long walk though howling wind and pouring rain. The feel of his kiss tingled on her lips, and her stomach dipped as she saw the hunger in his eyes. But Georgina ruthlessly suppressed all emotion, and conquered her instinct to hurl herself into his arms.

Instead, she stood still and said nothing in response to his greeting. What had happened between them was in a different compartment of her life. She had put it behind her. Her life was safe and orderly again. She didn't need anyone, Rick least of all. The risk of missing someone if they left her alone was too enormous to take.

Before long, she might almost be able to convince herself that nothing of importance had ever happened between them.

"We have recorded enough transactions to get Domenico Diaz convicted,” she told him curtly. “I was going to make a phone call tomorrow."

Rick released her. He took a step back and sank on the bench that ran along the inside of the van. He scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to retain some control over the situation.

Georgina stood in front of him, behaving like he was a goddamn stranger. And he'd been counting days, hours, and minutes until he could talk to her again, see her again, hold her again.

That wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

"What is it?” Georgina said with an impatient frown. “Hurry up. I need to get going."

"Angelina wants to call you tonight. I told her she can."

"Oh? Is something wrong?"

In his frustration, Rick threw out the news, without making any effort to soften the impact. “Her mother's dead. Overdose."

Georgina gaped at him, her mouth hanging open.

Rick shrugged, and stifled the feeling of guilt over the message, and his manner of delivering it. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I just wish it hadn't been when Angelina is away from home."

"How is Andy doing?” Georgina asked when she found her voice again. “Is she coping? How is she getting on with her grandparents?"

"She's been having a great time until now. They fixed her up with a temporary school. A driver takes her. She's all excited because my mother wants her to have a bodyguard."

Georgina's face clouded with worry. “Surely, Diaz isn't making the connection. Andy shouldn't be in any danger, should she?"

"It's not just Diaz. My stepfather is a US senator. That's why I wanted to keep Angelina under wraps until things were settled. He's a public figure. Someone could have used my circumstances to smear dirt on him."

"Oh,” Georgina said.

Rick leaned against the wall of the van and let his gaze roam over the figure in front of him. Georgina wore tight jeans and a pink cardigan with a row of pearly buttons down the front. He couldn't believe how badly he wanted her. In his mind he had spun childish fantasies about how she'd get into trouble with Diaz. She'd need him then. He'd have to step in and rescue her.

But she didn't need him. She was doing just fine on her own, snaring his number one target with goddamn
paperwork
. “You'd better get going,” he said, clamping a lid on his frustration. “Don't call the usual number tomorrow. I'll let them know you are ready. Call the day after. Someone will have instructions for you by then. You may need to go into hiding until it's all over."

He helped her down the steep step at the back of the van. At least she allowed him to do that. He left the door ajar and watched, until the red Chevy Cobalt had disappeared into a cloud of dust.

He thought of Annabel and Danville, and Maite and Trent. Love seemed to be going around, like an epidemic of some goddamn communicable disease. He'd been mistaken when he'd thought himself immune. His heart settled into a heavy thud as he admitted to himself that Georgina had got under his skin like no other woman had before. When he looked at her, his mind filled with images of lazy mornings in bed, Sunday picnics in the park, and cozy evenings at home in front of the television.

Of days spent together, as well as nights. Making a circle of shared friends. A baby brother or sister for Angelina swelling Georgina's belly. Growing old together.

Rick gave his head an angry shake, but it didn't help. It only sent his thoughts reeling around in a more confused tangle.

Georgina clutched the receiver and listened to Andy's desperate sobs. “It's my fault,” the girl was saying. “I looked after her. But I got so tired of it. I just couldn't do it any more. But there was no one else to look after her, and it's my fault she's dead."

"Hush, Andy,” Georgina whispered into the phone. “It's not your fault. We can't influence things around us. Some things just happen. I couldn't stop my parents from dying."

"Will you let me stay with you when I come home? I'd much rather stay with you than Mrs. Donati."

"We'll see,” Georgina said.

When she put the phone down, she wondered how much of what she'd told Andy was true. Part of her agreed that Chantal Patissier was dead because Andy was gone. Gone for good, because Rick now had legal custody, and Georgina had influenced that.

Before, there had always been a reason for Chantal to hang on, to hope, to think that one day the future would be brighter. Giving up her child, she'd given up hope. It wasn't Andy's fault, because she was a child. It wasn't Rick's fault, because his motivation had been Andy's wellbeing.

It was Georgina's fault, because she had interfered.

And now, she was going to make it worse, by moving back to London, to take up her new job as the Head of Compliance for Pacific Bank.

Georgina stood still a long while, staring at the quiet telephone. Then she brushed aside her gloomy thoughts. She went into her study, logged on to her computer, and worked until well past midnight.

Two days later, as instructed by Rick, Georgina called her usual number from a public telephone.

She was told to sit tight. Do her job at the bank, but avoid going out in the evenings until Rick was back in his apartment. That would be a signal that it was all over.

It made her laugh, their assumption that not going out in the evenings would be a great sacrifice in her life.

She planned to spend the evenings sorting through her clothes and packing, getting ready for her move back to London.

Each night Georgina set herself a task. Clear out a wardrobe, sort through a stack of correspondence. Close down the brief interlude in her life that had been unsettling in so many different ways. Prepare to go home. Get back to the safety of her dull and orderly life.

When the doorbell rang the following Sunday around two in the afternoon, Georgina expected it to be Roy Harris. Instead, she came face to face with Rick. His hair had grown into a tangled halo which softened his features. She hadn't noticed it in the van. Perhaps he'd worn a hat. She could no longer remember.

"Can I come in?” Rick said.

"Sure.” Georgina moved aside to let him through. The weather was warm for December, and she wore a short-sleeved T-shirt with jeans. Rick was dressed in a sweatshirt, and the grey combat pants. She wondered if he'd been to the shooting range. “Is it all over?” she asked. “I didn't expect you back so soon."

"Domenico Diaz was taken into custody last night.” Rick stepped trough the door, but made no effort to continue further inside.

"What will happen to the others?"

"Diego and Ramon have cut a deal. They'll testify against their boss. They'll be deported afterward. They won't have to serve time. The rest of the servants just melted into the night, like shadows. Most of them were illegal immigrants."