Ghost Moon (28 page)

Tall, dark-haired and stocky, dressed almost identically in the gentleman’s uniform of navy sport coat and khaki slacks, they could have passed for twins. They were scowling at each other, their bushy black eyebrows meeting over nearly identical pugilistic noses, and it was obvious that brotherly relations were not at their warmest.

‘‘Not before June fifteenth,’’ Phillip said to his brother in a firm tone. ‘‘It’ll take us at least that long to finish it up.’’

‘‘But I promised him April first.’’ Carl looked belligerently at Phillip.

‘‘Well,
un
promise him. Archer Boatworks doesn’t make promises we can’t keep. That’s why we’ve been in business so long.’’

‘‘You sound like a paid advertisement,’’ Carl groused. ‘‘This is an order for a five-million-dollar yacht we’re talking about. I don’t see why we can’t hurry things up.’’

‘‘Because it
is
a five-million-dollar yacht, you dummy.’’ Phillip sounded exasperated. The two brothers paused by the desk where Olivia worked at the computer, glaring at each other.

‘‘Boys, boys,’’ Ilsa said mock-reprovingly from across the room. ‘‘Why can’t we all just get along?’’

‘‘Because my brother’s an idiot,’’ Phillip and Carl said at the same time. They looked at each other in surprise, then burst out laughing.

Even Olivia had to smile.

‘‘He in?’’ Phillip asked, nodding toward Seth’s closed door.

Ilsa shook her head. ‘‘He and Mallory went to lunch.’’

‘‘Speaking of lunch.’’ Carl grinned down at Olivia. ‘‘How about letting me buy you a sandwich? Chicken salad’s on special at the inn today.’’

Carl had been asking her out for approximately as long as she had been back in LaAngelle. Olivia just as regularly turned him down. Automatically she started to refuse again, but then she caught herself.

If she was going to cure herself of her hankering for Seth, she was going to have to find somebody else to hanker after. Carl wasn’t exactly the man of her dreams, but he would do in an emergency. And this qualified as an emergency.

‘‘Sounds good,’’ she said, smiling warmly up at him. He, Phillip, and Ilsa looked equally surprised as Olivia got to her feet.

CHAPTER 43

BY THE TIME OLIVIA RETURNED TO THE OFFICE, it was fifteen minutes until two o’clock and she was seriously considering Carl’s invitation to go dancing in Baton Rouge on Friday. After all, she was fond of Carl, even if she wasn’t wildly attracted to him. Every date didn’t have to be a deathless romance, after all. There was really no reason at all why she shouldn’t go out with him. If Belinda didn’t like it, too bad.

Of course, going out with Carl would encourage him to like her more than he should. He’d already, during the course of a single lunch, sat beside her in their booth, draped his arm ‘‘casually’’ about her shoulders, and held her hand. In other words, he had made it abundantly clear that his interest in her was sexual, and there, she feared, lay the problem.

She had absolutely no intention of sleeping with Carl, and he seemed to have every intention of sleeping with her.

So going dancing on Friday was probably out.

Seth was seated in Olivia’s chair behind the computer when she and Carl walked into the outer office. Wearing a button-down blue shirt with a yellow silk tie and navy slacks, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, his hands folded on his chest, Seth looked thoroughly put out about something. If he was trying to operate the blasted computer, Olivia thought, she could certainly understand his ill humor. Or maybe—and this was cheering—maybe Mallory had done something to make him cross.

Ilsa, who was filing papers on the other side of the room, looked around and widened her eyes at Olivia in silent warning.

‘‘Did you two have a nice lunch?’’ Seth asked, too politely, his gaze raking Olivia before moving to fix on Carl.

‘‘Very nice.’’ Choosing to ignore Ilsa’s signal—if Seth was in a bad mood, she for one didn’t care—Olivia smiled brightly at him as she slipped her nubby gold blazer off her shoulders and hung it in the closet near the door. The gold T-shirt that she wore beneath had not come with the blazer, but the color was close and the pair made a nice outfit when worn with a slim black skirt and heels. Certainly it was nowhere near as expensive, or as chic, as the outfits Mallory habitually wore, Olivia thought, as she moved to take possession of her desk, but it suited her budget and
her
just fine. ‘‘So nice, in fact, that we’re going to Baton Rouge on Friday to go dancing.’’

‘‘Oh, really?’’ Seth’s eyes narrowed at her as she came around the desk toward him. Olivia met his gaze with a challenging look of her own, and pointedly stopped beside her chair, which he occupied. She was putting him on notice that she, too, could put their brief romantic interlude behind her.

Whether she really could or not.

‘‘Hey, hey, hey, that’s great! I could’ve sworn you were gonna say no.’’ Carl was all affable charm as he grinned at Olivia from the opposite side of the desk. Olivia, still standing, smiled back at him, knowing that she was probably making another mistake by encouraging Carl and, at the moment, not particularly caring. Seth, still seated in her chair, did not smile.

‘‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you have a meeting with a client at one?’’ Seth’s gaze was fixed on Carl now, and there was a definite edge to his voice.

Carl’s expression changed ludicrously. ‘‘Oh—my— God!’’ He slapped his forehead, glanced at Olivia, and looked guiltily back at Seth. ‘‘I completely forgot.’’

‘‘I gathered that.’’ Seth, too, glanced at Olivia, as if he knew precisely where to place the blame—on her. He stood up, his attention shifting to Carl again. ‘‘Apparently Mr. Crowell waited for about thirty minutes, then stormed out. I don’t think we’ll be building a boat for him anytime soon.’’

‘‘Oh, man, I’m
sorry
.’’ Carl groaned. He leaned both hands against the desk and shook his head. ‘‘I don’t know how I came to forget about it. That meeting’s been in the works for two months.’’

‘‘I know how you forgot about it. You were out chasing around after Olivia.’’ Seth’s gaze shifted to Olivia again, his expression grim. His next remark was addressed to her. ‘‘There’s a reason lunch is set for
an hour,
from noon until one.’’

‘‘Does that time limit apply to everyone?’’ Olivia asked, sweet as pie. If Seth was going to be unpleasant, she was going to give as good as she got. No matter how busy they were, he always found plenty of time for
chasing around after
Mallory. ‘‘Obviously
you
weren’t back from lunch until after Mr. Crowell had left, or you would have taken care of him yourself.’’

Seth’s eyes narrowed on Olivia’s face. Carl looked horrified. From behind Seth’s back, Ilsa shook her head in a frantic
no
. Olivia didn’t care if she
was
antagonizing Seth. She had finally reached the point where she was well and truly mad at him. Her heart was breaking, it was all his fault, and he didn’t care. Worse, he’d obviously taken a long lunch with Mallory. During the course of which eating lunch was probably the least of what they’d done.

Carl rushed hurriedly into speech before Seth could say anything. ‘‘I’ll call Mr. Crowell back right now and apologize. I’ll tell him—I’ll tell him—I’ll think of something.’’

‘‘You won’t reach him today. He’s already checked out of his hotel. Face it, lover boy. You’ve blown this one big-time.’’

Olivia glared at Seth. Carl, clearly more concerned about the lost sale than Seth’s uncharacteristic nastiness, headed toward the door.

‘‘I’ve got his cell phone number in my office. I’ll tell him I had a flat tire.’’ His voice dropped to a mutter. ‘‘In LaAngelle? Hell, I could catch a ride from anyone in town. That won’t wash.’’ It was obvious that Carl was now talking to himself. As he exited he called over his shoulder in a louder voice, ‘‘Thanks for lunch, Olivia! I’ll get back to you with the arrangements for Friday!’’

There was a moment of silence. Then Ilsa ostentatiously turned back to her filing. Olivia, with a fulminating glance at Seth, sank down in her chair. Seth, after returning Olivia’s look with an equally charged one of his own, headed for his office.

At the door he paused. In a carefully neutral voice he said, ‘‘Would you come into my office for a minute, please, Olivia?’’

Olivia looked up from the blue glow of the computer screen. Oh, yes, she would come into his office. She positively welcomed the chance to speak her mind to him without any witnesses.

‘‘Certainly,’’ she answered as coolly as he had spoken. In the corner, Ilsa rolled her eyes in silent sympathy. Olivia lifted her chin, and straightened her spine. Seth was politely holding the door open. She sailed by him without so much as a sideways glance. He closed it behind her.

His office was an advertisement for the Boatworks’ expertise with fine materials. Teak paneling, hand-rubbed to an expensive glow, shone in the sunlight admitted by the single large window. Built-in bookshelves, also of teak, rose floor to ceiling behind his desk, and to chair-rail height around the rest of the room. His desk was large and impressive, a polished mahogany antique, with a brass desk lamp and leather accessories. The black leather chair behind it was large and authoritative. Clustered around a gleaming brass and glass coffee table, a couch and two more chairs upholstered in black leather completed the room’s furnishings. Scale models of yachts were everywhere. Paintings of ships at sea hung on the walls. The carpet was a tasteful charcoal gray. The smell of Lemon Pledge and Armor All hung faintly in the air.

‘‘I don’t want you dating Carl,’’ Seth said abruptly, leaning back against the closed door as Olivia turned to face him. Olivia noticed, and wished she hadn’t, that his shoulders were almost as broad as the door frame. His blond hair was longer than he usually wore it, and she guessed that, with all that had happened, he had not found time for his usual haircut. His face was drawn in the aftermath of his mother’s death, with the lines around his eyes more pronounced than they had been before. The eyes themselves were a deep, penetrating blue as she met them. His mouth was a straight line.

‘‘Oh, really?’’ she asked, her eyebrows lifting. Resting a hand and her hip on his desk, she gave her head a toss so that one glossy brown wing of her hair swung away from her face. ‘‘And why is that?’’

‘‘Because it will only cause trouble. A lot of companies have policies that prohibit employees from dating each other. So does Archer Boatworks.’’

‘‘We do not! Since when?’’

‘‘Right now.’’

‘‘You can’t do that!’’

‘‘Sure I can. I’m the boss. I can do any damn thing I please, if I think it’s for the good of the company.’’

Olivia simply stared at him for a moment as words failed her. When she could talk, she asked carefully, ‘‘And just how is my going dancing with Carl going to harm Archer Boatworks?’’

Seth’s gaze moved slowly over her, from the top of her head to her high-heeled shoes. Bosom swelling with indignation under the thoroughness of that look, Olivia was nevertheless thankful that she’d taken time to brush her hair, powder her nose, and put on fresh lipstick before returning from lunch. She might not be as chic as Mallory, and her clothes might shriek Kmart rather than Saks, but she was, at least, minimally well-groomed.

‘‘To begin with, it’s going to piss me off, and I have enough on my plate right now without worrying about what’s going on with you and Carl.’’

‘‘I can’t go dancing with Carl because
it’s going to piss
you off
?’’ Talk about dog in the manger! Olivia couldn’t believe it. Her temper heated, and she glared at him. ‘‘Well, guess what? I don’t care if it pisses you off! Too bad, so sad!’’

‘‘I broke up with Mallory today,’’ he said mildly, catching her by surprise.

Olivia’s eyes widened as his words penetrated. Her indignation fizzled out like a deflating balloon. ‘‘You broke up with Mallory? You broke your
engagement
?’’

‘‘That’s what I said.’’ He came away from the door, moving toward her.

‘‘But—she had the wedding invitations with her.’’ It was stupid, she knew, but she was having a hard time grasping the reality of what he was saying. ‘‘They were all printed up.’’

‘‘I know. I felt—feel—pretty bad about it, I must admit. But the only alternative was to marry her, and I finally figured out that I don’t want to do that.’’

He was standing in front of her now, not touching her but close, a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. Still leaning against his desk, Olivia looked up into his eyes. She thought they were almost—tender, as they met hers.

Still, she would not allow herself to believe.

‘‘And this is supposed to interest me—why?’’ Her tone was frosty.

This time he really did smile. ‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said. ‘‘I thought we might kind of pick up where we left off.’’

‘‘Where we left off?’’ Her heart was thudding in her breast. She couldn’t move her gaze away from his.

‘‘Unless you just went to bed with me to be kind.’’ He picked up her hand and carried it to his mouth, where he pressed his parted lips to her palm. Olivia felt the moist heat of his lips on her skin with every fiber of her being. ‘‘
Were
you just being kind to your grief-stricken cousin, Livvy?’’

‘‘You’re not my cousin,’’ Olivia said fiercely, and threw herself into his arms. Her hands locked behind his neck, and his arms wrapped around her waist.

‘‘No, I’m not, thank God,’’ he said, and kissed her.

The phone on his desk shrilled, interrupting.

‘‘Shit,’’ Seth muttered, pressing Olivia back against the desk as he groped for the ringing instrument without releasing her. Only as he punched a button and growled ‘‘What?’’ did she realize that he was speaking over the intercom.

‘‘Mr. Archer, your two thirty appointment is here.’’ Ilsa’s voice sounded disconcertingly clear, almost as if she were in the room with them.

‘‘Give me one minute.’’ Seth punched the button to turn the intercom off. Olivia was leaning against him, her arms around his neck, her mouth pressed to the warm, prickly skin just below his jaw. The hard edge of his desk cut into her bottom as his weight held her against it, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was Seth.

Her
Seth, now.

He found her mouth, kissed her again, then slid his lips along her cheek.

‘‘How about dinner tonight?’’ he asked, with his mouth at her ear.

‘‘Are you asking me for a date?’’ The idea charmed her. Dating Seth—she would never, in all the years she had known him, have foreseen herself doing such a thing. She reared her head back so that she could look at him. Her expression turned mock severe. ‘‘I thought you said that Archer Boatworks has a policy about employees dating each other.’’

‘‘I must have forgotten to mention that our policy specifically excludes the general manager.’’ He smiled down into her eyes. ‘‘So how about dinner?’’

‘‘Sara. Chloe . . .’’ She could hardly think when he looked at her like that. Being in his arms felt so good, so right. Joy fizzed inside her like bubbles in champagne.

‘‘Martha can baby-sit. We won’t be late. I want to take you out.’’

‘‘Seth.’’ Olivia strove to keep a cool head. She was so happy, so deliriously happy, that all she wanted to do was be with him every moment for the rest of her life. But there were difficulties that had to be faced. ‘‘Chloe might not like the idea that we’re—involved. She likes me now, but . . .’’

‘‘Involved? Good word. I like it. Much better than dating.’’ Seth kissed her again, quickly and deeply. Responding, Olivia almost lost her train of thought. When he lifted his head, she remembered, and doggedly persevered.

‘‘I think we should be discreet in front of the girls. I . . .’’

The telephone shrilled again. This time, when Seth answered it, Phillip’s voice came over the intercom, all pleasant and jolly for the benefit of the audience in the other room, but with an unmistakable subtext.

‘‘Seth, buddy,
Niko Terezakis
is here.’’

Niko Terezakis, Olivia knew, was one of the Boatworks’ wealthiest clients. The new yacht he was thinking about ordering would be in the ten-million-dollar-or-more range.

‘‘I’ll be right with you,’’ Seth said into the intercom, and turned it off. ‘‘Don’t worry about Chloe. She likes you. She never did like Mallory. She told me Mallory was only nice to her because she was trying to hook me.’’