Sometimes It Is Rocket Science (21 page)

Eyes scratchy and dry, Robert set his cell phone on the desk and started his laptop’s shut down sequence.  The robotics company in Munich had been one of his first acquisitions when he’d taken over as CEO.  The enthusiasm he’d felt for the purchase had faded due to continual leadership problems and missed deadlines.  The scientists they employed were amongst the best in Germany, but the company just didn’t run as smoothly as NS’s US operations.  Robert flicked off the lights as he stepped out of his home office and eyed the closed door down the hallway. 

Dinner with Georgiana had been strained.  She’d kept the ring on her finger and smiled, but he knew it had been more for Tab’s benefit than his.  After washing dishes, she’d joined them for an old ‘50s sci-fi movie before disappearing into the workshop.  He’d played video games with Tab until the teen’s eyelids drooped and sent the boy to bed.  While he was in his office catching up on reports from the New York office, he’d heard Georgiana walk up the stairs, check on Tab, and enter her suite.

So why, then, were the lights on downstairs?  “NORA,” he spoke just loud enough for her sensors to catch, “who is downstairs?”

“Georgiana is in the kitchen.”

He hadn’t heard her leave her suite.   His argument with Herr Dressler must have been more heated than he’d thought.  “How long has she been downstairs?”

“A total of two hours, twenty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds.  Approximately sixty-five percent of her time was spent in Workshop 1-A.    Would you care for a more detailed breakdown of her movements?”

“No thank you.”

Robert’s feet were silent on the wide staircase and the floor that led to the kitchen.  Not that he thought Georgiana could hear him over the quiet, bluesy jazz drifting from the speakers.  The kitchen smelled of roasted coffee beans, popcorn, and motor oil.

Faraday was perched on the window sill over the sink.  Her long, brown tail flicked in time with the music though her eyes were closed.  Pieces of a pod-style coffeemaker were spread across the kitchen countertop.  Georgiana’s sleek laptop was set up next to the jumble of parts.  Lines of code filled the screen.   She was in the process of reassembling a small motor.

He took advantage of her distraction to observe his erstwhile fiancée.  In red plaid flannel pants and a Houston Texans t-shirt, she was utterly adorable.  There was a pencil jammed in her drooping ponytail and smears of grease on her chin. 

“I think it’s a lost cause, doll,” he said, leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed over his chest.

Her head jerked up.  The small screwdriver she’d had clenched between her teeth bobbed dangerously.  Bloodshot eyes narrowed.  Robert sauntered across the kitchen.  He swiped a finger through the streak of grease on her chin.

“Now, I have the utmost confidence in your ability to turn a spool of solder wire and a handful of bolts into anything your genius brain desires, but if there isn’t a working coffeepot come morning we’re going to have a problem.”

She set the motor on the counter and placed the screwdriver next to it.  “Trust me, I wouldn’t dismantle
every
form of caffeine production before a Monday morning. I don’t want a riot on my hands.  I didn’t touch the espresso maker.”

“Thank you.”  Robert continued on to the refrigerator.  He extracted two bottles of citrus fruit juice and set one on the counter beside her elbow.  The analysis NORA had run to test Georgiana for poison had included a list of vitamin deficiencies.  “I thought I heard you retire for the night.”

“Too keyed up to sleep, I guess.  I saw the light on in your office and was going to ask if you needed any help, but your conversation sounded pretty intense.  I figured it was best to leave you alone.”

Robert was willing to allow the subject change.  Georgiana wasn’t sleeping, that much was obvious.  Outright asking about her insomnia would force her to shut down.  As long as it had no serious impact on her health, he would wait until she was ready to talk.  He could be patient when it suited him.

“How much do you know about Kuhn L
ösungen Mechanik und Maschinenbau in Munich?“

Georgiana twisted the cap off her juice.  She swallowed a sip of cool, tart liquid.  “The company has been around since the ‘90s.  They came up with a few groundbreaking ideas, revolutionized theories on power cells.  Brilliant early work with alternative fuels.  Aggressive recruiters.  They usually hire good engineers though they have a hard time keeping them for longer than eighteen months.  Before they were bought out, the management had little scientific knowledge and there was a great deal of internal conflict.  The situation has improved marginally.  Their labs are downright gorgeous.”  She grinned at Robert’s dumbfounded expression.  “A little more detailed than you anticipated, huh?”

“Oh, just a bit.”

“Dad wanted to buy the company.  It was supposed to be my MIT graduation present. 
Someone
beat him to it.”

Robert groaned.  He propped his elbows on the counter and hung his head.  Given all the problems he had with the German company, he would have been better off letting Jerome Collier have the damn thing.  While it was too late for a graduation present, the company would make a good wedding gift.  What better way to offload a nightmare of an investment? “How is your German?”

“
Das Gebäude wird explodieren
.”
 
Georgiana shrugged.  “That’s about it.  I know enough to order food and keep from being arrested in the airport.  I took a semester in high school, but languages have never been my thing.”

On second thought, perhaps it wouldn’t make a good wedding present.  He didn’t want to know why Georgiana would need to know how to tell someone that a building was going to explode.  “You’re right about the inability to keep talented engineers.  We’ve had two management overhauls and the problems continue.”

“Perhaps it’s more of an attitude problem than personnel problem.  You need to overhaul the mentality from the bottom up.” 

It was a sound suggestion.  It also meant he would have to fly to Germany at some point in the near future.  Perhaps they could go on a European tour for their honeymoon with a stop in Munich along the way.  He could spend time observing and making notes on the overall attitude at the facility, and Georgiana could drool over the well-equipped labs.

“Thank you.”

She chuckled.  “You don’t have to sound so surprised, Bobby.  I’m over my head at CA, but I’m not as blonde as I look.”  She paused, fingered the end of her nutmeg brown ponytail.  “Or
looked
, I guess.”

That brought up a question he’d been dying to ask.  He rounded the end of the island to settle in beside Georgiana.  The heat radiating from her was like a magnet. “Why the change?  I remember sitting through many,
many
lectures on stereotypes and how you were proud to be blonde
and
a genius.”

“A need to hide, I suppose.  After Tab’s accident, there were numerous trips: to the hospital, to talk with lawyers, to talk to the police.  I knew the disguise wouldn’t hold up forever, but I wanted to keep the press away for as long as possible.  It worked.  After things slowed down, it just seemed, I don’t know, like the thing to do.  Everyone in my daily circle was used to it.  I was used to it.”  She tossed the empty juice bottle in the recycling bin, twirled the screwdriver on the counter.  “I suppose it sounds maudlin to say that it represents a new chapter in my life, the new person I’ve had to become, but in a way it’s true.”

“I like it.  It suits you very well.”

Her cheeks flooded with color.  She shifted away from Robert and tapped out a few commands on the laptop keyboard.  She bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from telling him everything: how she’d driven to the drug store late one night and bought the first box of dark hair color she’d run across, how she’d had to go back and buy two more boxes because she’d wasted the first one analyzing the chemicals, how her hairstylist hadn’t spoken to her for two weeks when he’d seen how she’d nearly ruined her hair by not following the instructions on the box.

“Sorry for the late night philosophy chat.  Blame it on the insomnia.  I should head up to bed.  I have a meeting with someone from Prask’s legal team bright and early,” she said, once the urge to blab passed.  There was no need for Robert to know just how wretched those first few weeks had been.

At the mention of Walt Prask’s name, Robert’s spine stiffened.  He didn’t want Prask, or even the taint of him, anywhere near Georgiana.  “Anything I should be aware of?”

“Prask may be slimy as pond scum, but his database software is solid.  We’re collaborating on a productivity package.  It’s a standard contract, actually.  I don’t quite understand the need for another meeting other than Yvonne trying to prove something by scheduling it for so early.”

“Would my presence ease any tensions?”

“Prask isn’t going to be there.  I mean, you could intimidate his lackeys, but that sounds like a waste of everyone’s time and of your talent.”  She patted his cheek.  She wasn’t as relaxed as she’d been earlier, but at least she’d dropped the cool tone.  “Thanks, but no thanks, Bobby.”

The sparkle of her ring caught his eye.  He grabbed her left hand before she could pass and pressed his lips to the knuckles.  “I was perfectly serious when I suggested we see this engagement to fruition.”

Her lips compressed into a thin, angry line, but she didn’t pull her hand from his grasp.  “And I was perfectly serious when I said you were crazy.  We’re friends Bobby.  We have a lot in common, but that’s not…   For crying out loud, Bobby, neither one of us should have to settle for a cold, passionless arrangement based on compatibility and what some damn nosy board of directors wants.”

Robert’s free hand slid across her shoulders to cup the back of her skull.   With a slight amount of pressure, he tilted her head to just the right angle.   Her eyes were wide, dark pools of anticipation.  The faint, familiar tang of her perfume set his heart racing.  For a moment, he believed the old romantic cliché about
drowning
in one’s lover.

Her lips were soft and pliable.  She tasted like strong, bitter coffee and rich, sweet cream.  He kissed her until his lungs burned for oxygen and her nails had dug furrows into his shoulders.  Short, gasping puffs of coffee-flavored air wafted across his face.  He could sympathize.  He felt as if he’d finished a marathon.

“Passionless?” he mocked, once his head stopped spinning.  “I suggest you check the empirical evidence.”

She rocked back.  A fine shiver worked its way down her spine.  Her eyes were impossible to read.  “Just because hydrogen gas and oxygen combust when mixed, doesn’t mean you should toss book of matches on them for the hell of it.”

Robert arched an eyebrow.  “Love isn’t rocket science, Gigi.”

“No, but
lust
is.  It’s a chemical reaction.  Pheromones and hormones.  Fuels and oxidants.”

Robert ran his thumb across her swollen bottom lip.  Despite the peppy saxophone music, he caught her sharp intake of breath and the quiet whimper.  “Fire.”

“Combustion.  Instabilities that result in one or both parties being blown to smithereens.”  She retreated a step, two.  “That doesn’t take into account the poor bystanders who get burned in the fallout.”

He moved toward her.  She held out a hand to stop him.  He shoved his fists in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.  He didn’t like how easily she threw up walls to keep him out or how quickly she withdrew when he got too serious.  There was something he was missing.  “Georgiana…”

She blinked back tears.  “Goodnight, Bobby.  I will see you in the morning.”

A second later he was alone in the kitchen with a dismantled coffee pot, Louis Armstrong, and a Siamese eyeing him like he was a catnip toy.  He didn’t understand Georgiana.  She wasn’t like the women who flocked to him.  The ones he never had to work for.  Jewelry and sweet words and a little affection were all it took to keep them hanging on his every word until the magic lost its glow and he tired of living up to their expectations of what a multi-millionaire playboy should be.

He couldn’t see the magic of Georgiana ever losing its glow.  She wasn’t a fling or a way to waste time. She wouldn’t expect him to be anything other than geeky, workaholic Robert Norwood.  She wouldn’t care about attending every premiere or charity function.  She wouldn’t mind spending an evening debating the pros and cons of the latest programming language.  She knew his family, understood his values, and kissed like no one else on earth.

Wooing her wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be worth it.  With a resigned sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and eyed the mess on the counter.  Jewelry and flowers wouldn’t do for Georgiana.  He was going to have to be more hands on.

“NORA,” he said, reaching for the screwdriver, “what was Georgiana attempting to do?”

“Based on the modifications made to subroutine 8A-1025, I believe she was installing a beverage delivery system similar to the one at residence designation ERIC.”

“Pull up the schematics, NORA.  Better start up that espresso, too.  It’s going to be a long night.”

The gradual brightening of the overhead lights roused Georgiana from a restless, unpleasant sleep.  She yanked a plush pillow out from under her head and crushed it over her face.  She was so twisted in the sheets she felt like a mummy.  Her jaw hurt from being clenched and echoes of screams rang in her ears.   She didn’t want to go back to sleep, but she didn’t cherish the idea of getting out bed. 

Leaving bed meant having to face Tab’s mournful face and that desperate helplessness that clawed at her heart.  It meant having to deal with Robert and his damn smile, damn pheromone-laced cologne, and damn insistence that they remain engaged.  It meant struggling to keep her head above water at the office when all she wanted to do was hole up in the workshop until she solved the mystery of Tab’s accident.

“I have started a cup of Pep blend coffee for you in the kitchen,” NORA stated.  “It will be ready for consumption in approximately sixty-six seconds.”

“Thanks,” Georgiana mumbled around a mouthful of pillowcase.    Given how horrendously lethargic she felt, it would take far longer than sixty-six seconds to untangle herself from the sheets and stumble down the stairs.  Installing a coffee maker in her room moved up a few spots on her mental to-do list.  Nothing got her neurons firing faster than a nice, hot cup of Pep.  She hadn’t realized how much she’d relied on ERIC always having a cup ready for her until she’d moved in to the Norwood house.

She tossed the pillow off her face and sat straight up.  Head cocked, she blinked up at the sensor near the door.  “NORA…”

“Yes, Georgie, dear?”

“I didn’t finish setting up the parameters or calibrating the machine last night.”

“That is correct.”

“Then how in the hell did you manage to make a cup of Pep?”

“Robert completed installation of beverage dispenser designation C-1 at two thirty-one this morning.  He accessed ERIC’s database to run a usage report and fill the carousel accordingly.”

“And you used that report to start my Pep.”   Georgiana grinned at the sensor.  “Have I told you lately how much I adore you, NORA?”

Two minutes later, Georgiana stepped in to the kitchen.  The first rays of pink and orange sun danced across the floors and counters.  The intoxicating aroma of fresh coffee and ginseng filled her lungs with every breath. 

Robert, newspaper in front of his face, was seated at the breakfast table.  Before she could reach the waiting mug of coffee, he folded up the paper and set it aside.  She froze.  He smiled warmly; her eyes fell on his lips.  She remembered how they’d felt on hers and flushed. 

“Good morning, Gigi,” he greeted, sounding far too cheerful for so early in the morning.  He tapped a finger on the newspaper.  “How long do you think it will take me to convince Dad to switch to the online version?”

She blinked, unfroze. “Impossible.  Dan loves his paper.  Besides, it comes in handy in the workshop.”  She curled her fingers around the hot mug.  The first sip of unsweetened, rich black Pep was heaven on her tongue.  Her eyelids fluttered shut as she savored the flavor.

When she opened her eyes, she found Robert staring at her from across the counter.  The heat in his gaze was more potent than the liquid ambrosia in her hands.  “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes sliding down to the toes of her slippers.  “For setting up the machine and for the Pep.”

“You’re welcome.”

Robert was cocky.  He was overbearing and annoying and would drive her crazy if she let him, but there was no denying his talent.  As someone who viewed in-depth programming as akin to translating cuneiform tablets without a dictionary, she respected that talent.  She respected it enough to shove awkwardness and late-night kisses to the back of her mind.

“I would have never thought of running a usage report, since I know what Tab and I drink at home.  It’s brilliant.  What did you have to add to NORA’s programming so that she’d use that report to set up a timer?  Is the subroutine based on a certain timeframe?  How often does it update its schedule?  How many users can it accommodate? Is it on a per-machine basis or would it support multiple devices?”

With a chuckle, Robert reached across the counter and snatched the mug out of her hands.  He sniffed her coffee suspiciously.  “Just what is in your Pep blend, doll?”

She snatched her coffee back, cradled it against her chest.  “Magic.”

Georgiana felt his eyes on her while she spooned yogurt, granola, and fresh blueberries in to a bowl.  She leaned against the counter to watch him watching her.  A few bites in to her breakfast, she held up her bowl.  “Would you like some?  It’s Greek yogurt. Vanilla.  Your dad got me hooked on it a while back.”

“No, thank you.  I have a breakfast meeting with senior management.  My goal is to be halfway through the transition from New York to Houston before Dad is cleared to return to the office.”

“Oh.”  Georgiana flattened a blueberry with the back of her spoon.  “You are serious about staying in Houston.”

“I said I was.  I am not in the habit of saying things, offering things, with no intention of following through.”

“Georgie dear, there is an incoming call from Yvonne Ruiz,” NORA interrupted. 

Georgiana didn’t know who she wanted to kiss first:  NORA or Yvonne.  “Speaker, please, NORA.”  She waited for the tell-tale click of the call being answered.  “Good morning, Yvonne.”

Static crackled.  Georgiana heard the faint, yet unmistakable, sound of her assistant swearing in Spanish.  She set her bowl in the sink, set her mug under the coffee dispenser and pressed the button that would deliver another cup of bliss. 

“Yvonne, I am well aware that your property manager is a fat son of a prostitute and that his face looks like a donkey’s rear.  Pointing out that his penis is the size of a paperclip doesn’t explain what’s wrong.”

“I am going to be late,” Yvonne said in a clipped tone.  The accent she tried to suppress whenever dealing with her peers and company management was back in full force.

“Okay.  No problem.”  It really wasn’t a problem.  Yvonne rarely took personal time and had more vacation days banked than nearly anyone else in the company.  Having Yvonne around made things infinitely easier, but Georgiana was sure she could handle a few hours on her own without crashing the stock market or inciting a mass walkout.

Georgiana frowned, drummed her fingers on the counter.  All thoughts of the business aside, Yvonne was her friend and there was something about the tone in her voice that made Georgiana’s stomach lurch.  “Do you need help?”

“No.  I’m sorry.  The notes for the meeting with Mr. Prask’s legal team are in the shared folder.  The weekly reports from HR should be on my desk, top left corner.  Don’t let Ms. Van Buren get to you before you’ve read them.  If you need anything, text me.”

“Are you sure, Yvonne? Traken in legal has dealt with tenants’ rights before.  He’s more than willing to help you deal with Mr. Martinez.”

“Thank you, Georgiana.  Maybe I’ll talk to Mr. Traken when I come in this afternoon.” 

There was a click and then silence.  Georgiana stopped drumming her fingers.  She swallowed back the anger rising in the back of her throat.  “I wish she would move.  That neighborhood was fine a few years ago, but now it’s downright dangerous.  Never mind the fact her property manager is a greedy, lazy pervert.”  She slammed her palm on the cool granite counter.  Pain licked up her arm and curled around her elbow.  “I’ve given her bonuses and cost-of-living adjustments, but she won’t move out that hellhole.”

“What does she do with the money?”

“Pay off her student loans.  And her brother’s.”  Georgiana hung her head.  She let out a soft sigh when warm fingers massaged the tense muscles at the base of her skull.  “I offered to pay those off for her. 
That
was a mistake.  Her pride is going to get her gang-raped and murdered.”

Robert was quiet for a moment.  Georgiana could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head.  She contemplated turning around to face him, but his hands were like heaven on her neck.  When he finally spoke, his voice was low.  His lips brushed the shell of her ear; the warm breath on the back of her neck sent warmth flooding through her veins.

“Your townhouse is empty.  Aren’t you afraid ERIC will get lonely?  It is a shame to let all that hard work go to waste.”

“That’s just a patch.  I was hoping for a more permanent solution.”

Robert’s fingers slid down her spine.  She felt the heat of his skin through the layers of cotton t-shirt and silk robe.  “It doesn’t have to be temporary, Gigi.”

“Tab and I are going to move back in eventually.”

“Who says you have to?”

She stepped away from him, walked backwards toward the stairs.  “I do.  Excuse me, I have a meeting.  I’ll see you at dinner.”

She wanted to race up to her room, but kept her steps even and slow.  She wouldn’t give Robert the satisfaction of knowing how much of an impact he had on her.  She crept into Tab’s room.  The light from the hallway provided just enough illumination for her to make her way to the edge of the bed without stepping on Quinn or the pile of dirty clothes.  She lowered herself onto the mattress and ran the back of her knuckles across his warm cheek. 

His blinked up at her drowsily.  “Gigi?”

“Good morning, honey.”  She ran a hand through his tousled hair.  “I have to leave shortly.  I shouldn’t be late.  Text me when you decide what you want for dinner.  I know you have a calculus assignment and a paper to start for your literature class, but please try to at least look over what I sent you regarding your physics project.”

“Wish you could do it for me,” he grumbled, rolling over onto his back.  Quinn hopped onto the bed and curled against Tab’s side.  His hand dropped onto the dog’s russet fur.

“Bet your teacher wishes the same thing.”  She kissed his forehead before rising.  “If you need anything, you know how to reach me.”

“Have a good day.”

She hesitated in the doorway, craned her neck to study her brother.  His eyes were closed but he was stroking Quinn’s velvety ears.  He looked more at peace than he had in months.  The shadows under his eyes had faded and there was color back in his cheeks.  Part of her was pleased that Robert’s influence had made such an improvement so quickly, but another, bitter part of her was jealous.  She’d done everything she could for Tab and it hadn’t been enough. 

How would Tab feel if Robert suddenly wasn’t part of their lives?  Would he backslide?  Would he resent her for it?  Robert was crazy for assuming their relationship would be anything other than an unmitigated disaster, but the thought of no longer seeing him every morning or across the dinner table or down in the workshop made her heart ache.

“You seem happier here,” she said, voice cracking.  She coughed to clear the lump out of her throat.

“Yeah.  Yeah.”  Tab yawned.  He stretched his arms over his head.  “The nightmares aren’t so bad.  NORA’s way nicer than ERIC.  Robert’s cool.  We talked about designing a game together.”

“That’s great.”  It wasn’t.  It was horrible.  She had to break off her engagement to Robert before she forgot it was a sham, before Tab got any closer.

She pushed open the door but was stopped by Tab’s voice.  “You seem happier, too, Gigi.”

She walked out without responding.  Alone in her room, she considered Tab’s comment as she dressed.  She did feel more relaxed.  It was wonderful having someone to help with Tab, not that she’d ever considered her brother a burden.  Robert related to him on a level she couldn’t.  She enjoyed having him in the workshop.  He was sarcastic and witty and they could have a conversation about thermodynamics or advances in electric cars without having to dumb anything down.  She remembered why they had been such good friends as kids. 

Returning to that easy friendship would be nearly impossible.  She couldn’t look at him without wanting to kiss him.  Wanting to run her fingers through that dark, shaggy hair.  She wanted to kiss him breathless and then curl up in his arms.  She wanted to share her fears about ruining her father’s company and her dreams for the future of CA.  She just wanted him.  Why couldn’t she have him?

Georgiana left the house without saying goodbye to Robert.  After a brief argument with Allan, he agreed to follow her to the office.  His security audit had found only minor flaws in their current procedures.  With her blessing, he’d scheduled a two-day retraining seminar with her security staff.

Collier Analytics’ parking garage was nearly empty.  She waved goodbye to Allan before stepping inside the elevator that would take her to the main floor.  The chipper, middle-aged head receptionist greeted her with a bright smile as soon as she walked into the bright, airy lobby.

“Good morning, Ms. Collier.  The gentleman from Tomorrow Solutions is waiting for you in Conference Room C.  I’ve set him up with a cup of coffee and a slice of pound cake.”

“Thank you, Barbara.” 

She headed straight for the conference room.  Prask’s flunky was early.  If he hoped to intimidate her by catching her unaware, he’d made a severe miscalculation.  She wasn’t in the mood to be intimidated.  She pasted on her coolest smile and stepped inside the small conference room.

“Good morning,” she started, sailing into the room as if she owned it.  Which, she supposed, was her right.  She stumbled to an abrupt halt as she recognized the figure seated at the oval cherry table.