Wayward Dreams (23 page)

Harry stopped the recording and considered. The offer sounded good, and now that Roppongi was running smoothly again, it might be nice to spend some time out with the guys, get to watch some
real
football. Sitting on the sidelines would be a bonus for Harry—the closest he'd come to American football in the past couple of years, aside from time-delayed televised games, was soccer. And it wasn't the same.

Besides, when was the last time he'd hung out with the fellas, talking about the good ol' days? Harry remembered AJ and Dench as kids, growing up on the same block. Older, they'd always treated him well, never teased or bullied him, and he'd idolized them both. Fun and funny, they had grown into smart men, destined for good lives. Now they were both happily married family men.

As he recalled, it hadn't been easy for AJ, not at first. He was engaged to a woman before he met his wife, and she broke his heart. And now that he thought about it, hadn't her name been Bianca, too?
Maybe
,
but from what I heard, she was nothing like my Bianca.

My Bianca? Where the heck did that come from?

Determined not to dwell on a question he wished had never occurred to him, Harry checked the next call.

It was Bianca again, her voice soft and wistful. “Your brother is mean and rotten. He stuck me with finishing inventory this evening. I told him you were coming back and how much I was looking forward to seeing you. Do you know he had the nerve to tell me that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder'? I guess this means we'll be talking later.” Her sigh carried over the line. “I miss you, Harry; I really do.”

What was it about the words “I miss you” that tore through him and nearly sent him running to her? The three little words, cut through his exhaustion like a knife and had him missing her like a vital organ.

The thought made him dizzy and suddenly hungry, he headed for his kitchen.

Letting his hunger take precedence, he opened the refrigerator and thanked goodness for interns and housekeepers. Because of their efforts, the refrigerator was filled with labeled containers. Selecting a meal, he didn't bother microwaving it. Finding a fork, he leaned against the counter and picked at the pasta and chicken.

Chewing mechanically, he thought about the call from AJ. Too bad everybody didn't have Dench Traylor's luck—wake up one day and stumble across a beautiful woman who only has eyes for you. Or, the blessings of AJ Yarborough—walk away from the one who wasn't meant to be and into the arms of the only woman God made for you.

And then Harry's memory flipped Bianca Coltrane's face forward.

Was she the lightning strike his mother warned him about? Clearly there was more to what was happening between them than her just being a conveniently lonely damsel in distress. Harry wondered about this woman who admitted to being willful, and self-centered, and her confessed tendency to stray from the straight and narrow path of conventional right.

Hot trouble in stiletto heels.
Harry couldn't help smiling at the thought.
She might have issues, and she might be complicated, but she's…
He let the thought drift, not quite ready to voice that final word. What if he actually used the word
mine
?

He left the kitchen and headed for a shower.

Settling for the vanity lights, he left the wide bathroom mostly shadowed when he stripped down and found he couldn't keep thoughts of Bianca Coltrane at bay. Yes, she was every bit as complicated as she'd claimed on their first meeting. And she had a problem that intrigued him—the security of her business.

What's it called?
He reached into the shower to turn on the water. Dialing down the needle-fine spray to a more gentle massage, Harry stepped into the tiled enclosure.
Vive la Reine, that's it.
He turned beneath the water and let it run fast and steady over the spread of his shoulders, drumming against the tension in his neck. The warm steady pour of water should have soothed him, but Harry's mind was restless, dwelling on Bianca and her concerns.

He remembered their visit to the Winston sisters' building. She had looked so sincere and happy, sharing that bit of her life with him. But even before the Roppongi call came through, she had seemed troubled about the safety of Vive la Reine. She was determined to handle the snatch-and-grab problem on her own, and he admired her independence and her willingness to take a stand. Harry couldn't help feeling there was something distinctly funny about her case.

She said the broken glass was outside, so someone broke it from the inside. How did ‘someone' get inside? She said all the keys were accounted for. So, was there a key she'd forgotten or didn't know about? She said the security had been disarmed using her codes. Who else would know them? She said her accounting records were in the computer that was destroyed in the robbery. And they trashed her stock. Somebody wanted her out of business for good and at a loss. Somebody wanted her scared.

Harry wondered what the police report would show. Right now, everything he had to go on was based on what she had said, but Bianca's robbery had been thought through and carried out by someone who knew how to steal, and nobody knew how to steal like a thief. Bianca might be clever and even a shade manipulative, but she wasn't a thief, and she hadn't bothered to lie about her situation.

So who would gain from her loss?

Harry thought of running into the ex-boyfriend at No Mas Café. He wasn't above intimidation that day; what else would he be willing to do to hurt her?

Harry's stomach curled a little when he wondered what the man would
really
be willing to do to hurt Bianca.
The man is a coward. He wouldn't have the nerve to hurt her.
But cowards were also foolish—and they made mistakes. Figuring out the patterns layered through those mistakes had made millions of dollars for Harry.
And if I can figure it out for money, I can sure as hell do it for Bianca.

What did she say his name was?
Caught up in the mystery and actively searching his memory, Harry knew sleep was going to wait. The challenge of a mystery was like catnip to a cat for him, and he put some of his fears for Bianca aside.
Calvin? Kevin? Maybe it was Corbin?
Then he remembered.
Pane? The last name was Pane, but how was it spelled?

Stepping from the shower, he grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his hips and made a brief stop in his bedroom for sweatpants. His mind traveling a million miles an hour, he headed for his office to boot up his computer. Hands on the keyboard, he tried not to call what he was about to do fun, but he expected to enjoy it. This wouldn't take long, and it was for Bianca.

Harry's hands moved effortlessly through a series of codes, opening confidential files and tracking similarities through international crime statistics, seeking a pattern. And hours later, with the sun rising hot and full over Atlanta's horizon and the indigo print silk kimono he'd brought for her still folded in his bag, Harry Jordan watched the fragmented beginnings of the pattern surface on his computer.

CHAPTER 15

Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed and his fingers locked behind his head. There were still some other strings to pull, and he would find them. Kelvin Michael Payne was either not very good at covering his footprints, or he didn't care.

It was just past nine in the morning and there was no point in thinking he was going to get any sleep now. Outside his windows, day was in full swing, and he was fairly certain Bianca was gone for the day, noting she hadn't called to see if he was back.
Okay, that's crazy
, he thought, reminding himself he could just as easily call her.

He reached for the phone and keyed in her number. When she answered, her voice grabbed his heart and squeezed. “Hi.”

He heard the breath go out of her. “Please tell me you're back.”

“I'm back.”

“Should I tell them I'm sick and come home now?”

Harry smiled. “You don't have to do that, but can you take tomorrow off?”

“Definitely. And, Harry? I can't wait to see you again.”

The small kiss she sent between them before disconnecting the call was going to have to do for the moment, but he started making plans.

A nap first, then I'll do the whole dinner and rose petals thing for her.
He could see it all:
Leave the door open, she'll come in and follow the path of rose petals. I'll lay two paths, one to the dining room, the other to the bedroom. The choice will be hers—dinner with all of her favorites or me, with dinner to follow.
Her immediate choice didn't matter as much as knowing that he would sleep that night with her in his arms.

He felt his mind gearing up again. Between his findings and his plans, the possibility of sleep was slipping away.
And when I do fall asleep, I'm going to be out for the count…
He wandered back to his desk.

I could return a few phone calls.
Remembering the call from AJ, he reached for the phone and punched in the number. Harry looked at the time again. It was almost ten in the morning and the man had kids—he'd be up and about by now.

“Hello?”

“Hey, AJ?”

“Harry!”

Harry heard muffled conversation, then the excited shout of another man. Seconds later, he heard a click, then two men laughing on the other end of the line.

“Harry! Hey, dude!”

“AJ and Dench. You two are going to be old and gray, and you'll always sound like those two hard-headed kids who used to run over me on the field. How are you doing?”

“Good, man, really good. And it's good to hear your voice.” AJ's laughter deepened. “Dench is on the extension.”

“Yeah, dude, I'm here. You gonna take us up on that invitation?”

“Absolutely. That's what I called about.” The men on the other end whooped wildly.
Still kids at heart.
Holding the phone to his ear, Harry crossed the room to look out over the city. “But as nice as this Guys' Night Out is, when am I going to get to meet your wives?”

“You already know Rissa,” AJ teased.

“Hey!” Dench was feeling protective.

“She's married.” AJ wasn't going to say it, but there had been a time when Harry's feelings had been more than a little hurt when AJ's pretty sister had shown a definite preference for Dench Traylor. And even though Harry had gotten over it long before they married, AJ couldn't resist the reminder.

“I've never met your wife, though. I'd really like to know what you did to get her to love you,” Harry countered.

“Then you're going to have to plan to stay in Atlanta for a while. She'll have to tell you what a complicated man I am,” AJ said and laughed. “We'll have you out to the house for dinner. You'll get to meet my kids, too. But I've got to warn you, Jabari is definitely my son, full of questions and challenges. And my daughter, Nia, is a pretty charmer, like her mother, so you're going to have to watch your heart.”

“Dude, my wife and kids are complicated, too.”

“Right, Dench.” Harry laughed. “I'll take my chances on that, but I'm all about watching the Falcons work out. You know I still like the Browns. Never did buy into the Ravens, but Atlanta's my home team. Can't wait to see what your boys will bring to the field.”

“Then let's do this next week.”

“I'll call and confirm.” Harry was still smiling when the call ended. Standing, he felt relaxed, happy with his life. Maybe this was a good time for that nap.

Two steps away from his desk, he heard the distinctive business ring of his cellphone. Tempted to let the call go to voicemail, he knew he would regret it if the caller was Deb, or Yamada with news about Roppongi. He watched the phone vibrate, then sighed heavily. Answering, he was stunned by the sultry voice on the other end.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Karen. This call is a surprise.”
Deb said the caller was aggressive. Is aggressive another word for voracious?
For the first time since he'd met her, Karen Dodge sounded exactly like what Harry was beginning to realize she was: a man-eater.

She let a satisfied hum cross the line between them, the sound soft and low, almost a slurp of sensuality. He imagined her in bed, knew what she would look like bare, warm, and available. “I'm in town for a few more days. I thought we might get together and enjoy each other. You know, for old time's sake.”

Harry gave it a moment's thought and knew they didn't have any old times he was willing to relive. “I don't think that's a good idea, Karen.”

“You're home now.” It wasn't a question and it wouldn't have been Karen's style to ask, anyway. “I already have your address, and I could be there in…oh, say, fifteen minutes.”

Not so long ago, that invitation would have left Harry hard and hungry. Now, it only left him realizing how much he missed Bianca. “No, that's not a good idea. I don't want you here, or anywhere else.”

Disbelief rippled between them. “Did you just say no to
me
? Harry, if you don't want to sound like you're begging, I understand. No big deal, it's just a little ‘thanks for the memories' sex between friends.”

“I don't want to be that kind of friend, Karen.”

“I see,” she finally said. “Whose friend are you now? A man like you doesn't go long without, so if you don't have anything left for me, who is getting the best of you these days?”

“That's not your business, Karen.”

“Really? Oh, I can't wait to meet this woman.”

“I don't ever see that happening. I'm going to hang up, but I don't ever see us having another conversation, Karen.”

“Oh, darling, gorgeous, naive Harry, never say never.”

The line went dead in his hand, and, sitting on the corner of his desk, Harry looked out the windows and shook his head, wondering how he'd ever been so shallow and stupid. Yeah, Karen was great to look at, and even better to touch, but she was hard on a man's ego. She thought men were pets. Once you got past her money and looks and the sex, there was nothing about her strong enough to base a future on.
Superficial
, he thought,
a synonym for Karen Dodge.

He sighed and tossed the phone onto the desktop. No man wanted a woman who stood for nothing but herself and shopping, and if he did, he didn't want her for long or for much other than her looks and sex.
At some point, you have to get out of bed and have a life.
And Karen didn't want to put in the work.

Karen had never had a job, not really. Being born with money and a knack for investment, she'd never really needed one, but just because she didn't work didn't mean she didn't know how to work
it.
And for Karen,
it
meant working her social connections to get the information and results she wanted. And right now, she was determined to know and eliminate her competition.

“Who would know?” She scrolled through her phone list, shaking her head as she went through the alphabet. “That damned reclusive Harry spends so much time out of the country, nobody in Atlanta knows him anymore.” But that wasn't quite right, was it? Somebody, some female somebody, knew Harry. Biting down on her full lower lip, Karen tightened her gaze and scrolled further, finally coming to a name she recognized.

She pressed SEND and waited. If this one didn't know, she would know someone who did. Karen took a deep breath and waited until Paisley Denham answered her phone.

“Paisley? Sweetie, this is Karen.”

“Who?”

Dippy Southern twit!
“Karen Dodge, honey. We talked at that Project ABLE fundraiser last year, remember?”

Paisley's voice brightened. “I remember you had on that red dress that I would have just sold my very soul for! Well, honey, it's been a long time. How
are
you?”

“Really good. I was just wondering, a friend of mine has a new friend, and I'm trying to track her down to…”

She never got the next words out.

“Find out what she's up to with your
friend
?” Paisley's accent went deep and all of the Scarlett O'Hara in her soul vaulted to the fore. “What's your
friend's
name?”

Paisley may have been slow about a lot of things, but she knew how to connect the dots when it came to men and women.
Must be how she got that Miss Whatever-the-hell-she-was title.
Karen hesitated and then thought, what the hell.
I don't sleep with this woman, and I don't live in her little world. I could not care less what she thinks or who she tells.
“Harry Jordan. He was at that fundraiser, too.”

“Oh,” Paisley squealed. “I don't know him, but I know
of
him. His brother lives just across the way. Bobby and me, Bobby is my dog, we walk over there all the time. He's a cutie, the brother is, though my dog's pretty sweet, too.”

If I didn't need her…
“I'm sure he is, sweetie. The brother?”

“Oh, yeah, well just a little while ago, Akemi, the brother who lives across the way, he said he was trying to find a way to match his brother up with this woman. He never came right out and mentioned her name, but Akemi owns Kin Kura International. Maybe I could give him a call and pry the information out of him for you. Akemi is so easy to talk to, and did I tell you how good-looking he is?”

This fool is simply looking for a way to separate that man from his clothes. And damned if I'm going to be her excuse.
“I'm only going to be in town for another day or so. It's really not that important. Thanks for offering, though. Bye, now.”

“Oh, maybe next time.”

Karen hung up knowing there was never going to be a next time. There had to be a better way. Scrolling through her cellphone, she looked at Harry's business number again. Oh sure, he'd given it to her in happier times, but it was all she had for now. Her breasts rose and fell heavily. It was either try again or admit defeat, and no man had
ever
made her admit
anything
she didn't want to—not even Harry Jordan.

She pressed SEND and waited. “And if it's that same snippy wench as before, I will clear my afternoon calendar and go over there for the sheer pleasure of slapping her silly.”

Luckily for both Deb and Karen, Deb had just stepped away from her desk to retrieve a fax. In her stead Lauren Owens, the new Georgia Tech engineering intern, was in charge of the phones. Lauren was just over five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds, soaking wet. Her green eyes and blonde hair had a tendency to shine almost as brightly as her intelligence. A National Merit Scholar with an affinity for math, she was also an incorrigible gossip—but nobody ever asked her about it, and she never volunteered it on her internship application.

When the phone rang, she seized the opportunity and hoped for excitement, though she still couldn't understand why Harry Jordan preferred to have the phones answered by his human staff during the workday. “Good morning, you've reached the offices of NeoTech Integrated Security Systems. This is Lauren Owens, how may I direct your call?”

Karen was a little sorry not to have an excuse for a good smackdown. This wasn't the snippy one. This one sounded like a kid playing grown-up. “Good morning. May I speak with Mr. Jordan, please?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Jordan is unavailable.” Lauren pressed a finger to the headset.

The caller sighed into the phone. “I've missed him, then?”

Sexy voice, sexy lady
, Lauren decided. “Is this a personal call?”

Karen decided to jiggle the bait a bit and sighed the affirmative.

Lauren wondered what this woman looked like and what her personal business with The Boss could possibly be. Then it occurred to her—this could only be his new interest. Lauren had heard the word around the office, even though she'd missed the woman's visit, but she remembered the name and threw it out—a little bait of her own. “Is this Ms. Coltrane?”

Coltr
ane? Like the musician?
Karen almost hooted. All she had was a last name and a location for Harry's brother's business, but she knew how to put two and two together and get what she wanted. She hung up.

“Hello?” Lauren flopped back in Deb's chair, wishing the woman had been Ms. Coltrane. Oh, well. She looked around the office and sighed. Maybe something exciting would happen soon.

Better armed, Karen used her phone like a weapon and clicked through to directory assistance to find a number for Kin Kura International. Loving the essential cloak and dagger feel of her approach, she dialed the number and couldn't stop smiling when she asked for an appointment. She had been told, she lied, to ask for Ms. Coltrane's assistance. The associate was polite when she asked for her name. Thinking quickly, she gave her grandmother's name. Ella Gray's appointment was made and confirmed—with Bianca Coltrane.