Tall Poppies (30 page)

people on the track. But Jack was still in the back of her mind, even while she concentrated on her technique. Resentment lay clammy over her heart. Maybe she’d been right the first time. Jack Taylor just lived for the chase, and now he’d had her, he was going to—

Elizabeth swung right a fraction too late in an ugly turn, the angle was huge. Hans glanced behind him and frowned as Elizabeth ducked her head, abashed. Bloody Jack had put her off. A howler like that could lose you a third of a second, maybe more, if it happened on race day. Her annoyance intensified. Maybe Vanessa, or Clarisse or all Jack’s other groupies put up with it, but she wasn’t going to.

You’d better buck your ideas up, mate, or else’ ‘Elizabeth, lieber Gott!” Hans grumbled, as she smoothly fell in beside him. ‘Horrible, you ski like a

farmer’s wife, and slow as a cow.’

‘Sorry,’ Elizabeth mumbled.

‘Sorry won’t save you.’ On a small flat patch Hans carved to a full stop, Elizabeth just fast enough to match him. Her coach was shaking his head. ‘Come, show me something, Friiulein, the World Champion I ski with! Where is your head? Not on the schuss.’ The bright old eyes watched her clearly. ‘Heidi pines for her Jungen only after she skis. Forget him for now.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about Jack!’ Elizabeth protested hotly.

‘No?’ Hans said shrewdly.

Elizabeth flung herself into he next barrelling drop before Herr Wolf saw the blush on her face. Was she really that obvious? It was embarrassing. And he was bloody well right, Taylor wasn’t worth it.

With a wrench she turned her gaze to the plummeting white track before her, settling her body lower towards the ground, feeling the gradient in her belly. She hurtled forwards so fast it seemed her skis barely grazed the

snow, flying over the ice crystals until the horizons were bleeding into each other. Hans dropped behind her, and all the world was whiteness and freefall, angles and sticks, her strong muscles twisting and leaping. The Wang run fired her downwards to its finish like a bolt from a crossbow.

No posts announced the end of the piste. The kind of skier that tackled the Gotschnawang runs didn’t need them. Elizabeth simply ground to a halt, a vertical wave of powder pluming up behind her like the tail of a giant white peacock. She ripped her goggles from her head and stood there panting, still recocering when Hans zoomed the last schuss a full nine seconds behind her.

‘]a,’ Wolf gasped, breathing hard himself. His eyes twinkled. ‘That is the girl I remember. You are now fast. But reckless.’

‘Overcautious, undercautious,’ Elizabeth grumbled. ‘Speed and skill. That is what we need. But with much work we shall have it.’ Hans brightened and waved at the car& ‘A schnapps? We will celebrate, but it will be the

last before the Games.’

‘What?’

‘No alcohol. Also early bed, strict diet, no caffeine,’ Hans said happily as Elizabeth unlocked her boots.

Great, Elizabeth thought glumly, trudging up the wooden steps behind him. Skiers sipping their citrons presses or Gliibweins gawked at them, whether it was recognition or just the speed of their arrival she didn’t know. As Hans led her inside, the familiar waft of frankfurters, soup and cheese with black bread hit her. A pine-log fire crackled in one corner and her heart rate dropped steadily. That was good; real fitness meant quick recovery, and

‘Hello, milady,’ Jack Taylor said. He was perched on a barstool, drinking mineral water, wearing the red, white and blue suit of the US team. Obviously the recognition

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thing is not too much of a problem for you, Elizabeth thought, swiftly clocking at least five Swiss girlies with their eyes constantly flickering Jack’s way. Hell, why not? He looked great, as usual: bronzed, huge, the dark hair cropped a little tighter than when she last saw him, the cruel mouth set in that maddeningly confident way. Maybe it was the snow. Or the suit. In a Savile Row three-piece Jack looked a real babe; but in a skisuit, out here, he looked like a champion. A world beater with the gold already reserved. How great it would be, Elizabeth thought a little sourly, if I had no competition.

‘Jack,’ she said. What was he expecting, a fucking ticker-tape welcome? ‘Are you coming up to the Weissflu

joch? We’re just going to have a quick schnapps.’ ‘You’re drinking alcohol?’ Jack asked.

‘Yeah.’ She heard herself get curt. ‘I’m not a Muslim.’ Jack put some money on the bar and waved at Hans. ‘No, I want to do some Strela blacks. You were late, Elizabeth.’

‘It was only a quarter of an hour,’ Elizabeth said angrily. ‘You were rude, Jack, you should have waited

for me.

Jack shrugged. ‘Sugar, I wouldn’t ask you to wait. You want to drink schnapps, relax your schedules, ski tramlines like the Weissflu? It’s the Olympics. I never screwed up a schedule in my life for anything, especially not for manners.’

‘Nice to see you too.’

‘Hey. I’m thrilled to see you. Look, if it was anyone else, I’d be on the gondola right now, but I gave you guys an extra five minutes to get here.’

Elizabeth was furious. ‘Look, Jack, don’t do me any favours, all right?’

‘What’s your problem?’ the Texan demanded, brown eyes narrowing.

‘I don’t have one.’

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‘I’m letting you train with me, Elizabeth,’ Jack said

softly. ‘Wouldn’t do it for any other female. This ism’ ‘The Olympics, yeah, so I gathered. And I know what you think of females. But you needn’t bother yourself,’ Elizabeth snapped. ‘I’m skiing a tramline run right now.’

Jack looked at her for a few seconds. Then he said, ‘OK,’ casually, waved at Hans and stood up. ‘I’ll call you tonight.’

Elizabeth turned away to pick up her schnapps. ‘Like I said, don’t do me any favours.’

She picked up her glass and sipped it slowly, listening to Jack’s heavy footfalls as he clumped out to the terrace.

‘Problems?’ Hans asked, but Elizabeth shook her head. She started to talk techniques with the coach, while glaring at one of the adoring Swiss girlies, who was irritatingly staring at her as if she were mad.

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‘Great, so we’ll complete next week.’ Nina was filing more notes as she talked to Luc Viera. She rubbed her aching temples; it was the end of another long, busy day. She’d been setting up contracts and offices and new administrative structures; she dreamed of figures, she woke up with crunching migraines and rows of accouno tant’s print swimming before her eyes.

A shadow fell over her desk. Nina looked up.

Dr Henry Namath, Dragon Inc.‘s latest contractual supplier, was looming over her. He wore a pair of jeans and a Yankees sweatshirt. Behind him Frau Bierhof, Nina’s new assistant, was looking outraged. Obviously Harry had barged past her. As usual.

Nina sighed. ‘Hold on, Luc.’ She looked at him, exasperated. ‘Harry, what’s wrong with the phone?’

‘Nothing. If you answered it.’ Namath pointed to the

pile of message slips on her desk.

Nina shrugged; if it was Tony, legal or a vital call, Steffi Bierhof let her know, otherwise, sure, she ignored them. Who had time? ‘Can’t it, wait? Guess not. OK. Look, Luc, Dr Namath’s here, I have to go. You know the fax in my apartment, right? I’ll check the details tonight.’

She hung up. ‘OK, Dr Namath, I’m all yours.’

‘Great,’ he said, pulling her coat from the rack. ‘Let’s

go find a restaurant.’

‘We’ll discuss it here. I have too much work to do, and—’

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‘Nina.’ Namath bent over her, his black hair and blue eyes seriously distracting. ‘Let me tell you something.

Biochemical principle. The human body needs food.’ ‘Really, I—’

‘And mental agility suffers without it. Come on, it’s an investment, it’ll stop you screwing up from low blood sugar.’

Nina couldn’t stop a tiny smile as she accepted her coat.

‘That’s better.’ Namath looked her over with a forty watt grin. ‘Come on, I got a table. Best place in town.’

Well, she was hungry, Nina rationalised as she followed him out.

The cab pulled up off the D6rfli and Nina stepped out, looking at the narrow Gothic houses, antique shops, caf6s and bookstores mingling with underground nightclubs. That was Zurich, if you had time to enjoy it. Grimm’s fairy tales by day, Soho by night. She felt too exhausted to be appreciative, wondered what Namath had in mind: another fancy Swiss eatery, full of bankers and ladies in furs, unpronounceable dishes and alcohol strong enough to fuel rockets. If she ate one more lamb

and dandelion salad she was going to explode.

‘So, we’re going somewhere ethnic?’

‘Very ethnic.’ Namath pushed her to the right and

pointed. ‘The Hard Rock Caf.’

Nina laughed.

‘Well, American is ethnic,’ Namath said, grinning, ‘and I felt like Bud and a cheeseburger, I hope you don’t mind.’

They were shown to a small table in the back. It was cramped and in sight of the kitchen but Nina couldn’t have cared less; it was dark, busy, full of American babble and waiters carrying trays piled with fries and ice cream. A girl materialised right away and Harry asked

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for a cheeseburger, beer and fudge melt chocolate cake. Nina went for grilled chicken and Diet Coke, with a fruit salad.

‘That’s really going to do your cholesterol a lot of good.’

‘So now you’re worried about my cholesterol?’ Dr Namath asked.

Nina blushed. Harry had been a hellish pain in the butt; he ran their lawyers ragged, he insisted on supervising all the lab details, wouldn’t buckle on a goddamned thing. Once the ink was dry, Lilly Hall had gotten the best terms any Dragon contractor had ever had. She had to admire Namath, he knew what he was doing. Impressive for such a young guy, but like Harrison Ford

‘once said, it’s not the age, honey, it’s the mileage. Young kids were coming up everywhere. The eighties was the decade of the entrepreneur. Even if Namath didn’t fit the red-braces-with-dollar-signs stereotype. For a man who’d be a millionaire in less than two years, Harry dressed like a workman.

But face to face he was real attractive. The logician’s brain came gift-wrapped: short hair, raven black, and sharp azure eyes. He had none of Tony’s powerful elegance. Namath was brutish to look at, stubborn, annoyingly light hearted; getting his own way while refusing to take life seriously. Nina thought about him often, caught herself, and tried to stop. She told herself it was her scientific side, how could she not admire a man who thought in code, a mathematician who could read

numbers like a language?

‘Well …’

‘I can handle it. Or maybe you think I’m too fat.’ Nina was forced to glance at his body under the loose shirt. Nice, very nice. He was big but lean, well balanced, one of those naturally strong guys who didn’t need the gym.

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‘What did you want to discuss? Lilly’s bonus? It’s being credited to her tomorrow. The lab? That’s ready to inspect Monday. Or was there another contract problem? I hope not because we’ve moved on from that …’

‘None of the above.’ Namath dipped a handful of fries in barbecue sauce. ‘I wanted to talk about us.’

‘Us? I thought we’d straightened those problems out, Harry. I know you think I’ve been harsh but—’

‘Harsh? You’re a nightmare. I buckled in to you more

times than I want to think about.’

‘Like hell,’ Nina said.

Harry smiled. ‘I mean us. Now it’s a done deal. You

and me. Dates.’

‘Dates?’

‘Dates. You remember them,’ Harry said maddeningly, ‘not the d.ried fruit or the calendar kind, you must have had some. Girls like you don’t get away without them.’

‘Girls like me?’ Nina repeated stupidly. It was dumb, but with those clear eyes looking right at her she felt silly, like an idiot teenager. Somehow she’d never expected this. Namath was mildly flirtatious with every female, and they’d fought so much, and she was the corporate enemy …

‘Girls who are so radiantly lovely,’ Harry said.

Nina blushed deeper. She had no idea how to react. Nobody had ever said anything like that to her in her life -. it was always catcalls, or ‘babe’, or Tony’s explicit praise. She was used to Tony .making her feel like an erotic sculpture. Did he really call me radiant? she

thought, and felt strange, different. Vulnerable and shy. ‘I don’t have boyfriends,’ she said flatly.

‘Good. I don’t want you to have boyfriends, I want you to have me,’ Harry said, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. He looked like he was loving it. Nina flashed on Tony, eating and drinking with perfect’

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restraint. In public the earl was always totally dignified, the Robber Baron, impeccable and ice cold.

‘No. It’s nothing personal, but I tried it once and it didn’t work.’

‘Some guy treated you bad?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘You’re wrong there, toots, I want to know everything.’

‘It’s private,’ Nina said coldly. ‘Happened a long time ago.’ Yeah, when I was a different person on another planet. Nina brushed the beautifUlly cut cotton of her moss-green Martine Sitbon jacket, matched with a white silk shirt. Her strength, her hardness, had taken her from that girl to this one. Tony Savage she could handle. She ‘wasn’t scared of him. But right now she was very, very

scared of Harry Namath.

‘OK.’ He accepted that, but wasn’t put off. ‘So that means what? You’re going to punish every other man you meet for the rest of your life?’

‘I’m nor going to punish anybody, I just don’t want to deal with it.’ Nina stabbed defiantly at her chicken. ‘I have enough on my plate. I’m trying to build a career.’

‘Surprisingly enough, I had noticed that. But that’s no way to live, you can’t take a computer to bed with you at night. Do you read Kipling? The lust So stories?’

‘No,’ Nina said, smiling faintly at the thought of her ever having time to read fiction.

‘You should do.’ Harry looked across at the young woman in front of him, groomed, self-possessed, lifetimes older than her age. There was something in that beautiful face he couldn’t read, some veil those dark eyes were pulling down. God, but Nina was so lovely, dark hair round her face like a thundercloud, cheekbones like knife-slashes in her pale face. He had ached for her since the second he first saw her, then his lust had mixed with something else; he’d never known a girl like her,