Sometimes It Is Rocket Science (31 page)

“Yours.”  She stuffed her foot back in her shoe.  “I was analyzing your aftershave for pheromones.”

Robert grinned.  “There are no synthetic pheromones in my aftershave, Gigi.”

“Obviously.”

“Why would you think that there were?”

She lifted her glass of iced tea, watched the bobbing ice cubes.  Given the temperature of the tea and the length of time she’d been in the office, more cubes should have melted unless they’d been kept at a temperature lower than most freezers.  That would explain why the cookies he’d pulled from the office mini fridge had been coated with a fine layer of frost.

“Gigi,” he prompted, hand on her knee.

She blinked, glanced up from the glass.  “I was looking for an explanation for why you were having such an effect on me.”

“Oh?”  Robert’s hand slid up her thigh.  He settled his other hand on her hip.  “Please expound on this effect.  Perhaps we can find an alternate explanation.”

Her glass hit the table with a
clink
and the rattle of ice cubes.  Emboldened by the ardor and love in Robert’s dark eyes, she placed a palm in the center of his chest and shoved him back in his chair.  She shrugged out of her blazer, settled one knee on either side of his hip.  The chair’s frame squeaked under their combined weight.  The position made her slightly taller.  She lowered her face so that her lips were millimeters above his.  His tongue darted out to flick her bottom lip.

“Oh, Bobby, I think this is more of a show than a tell.”

Georgiana didn’t consider herself a particularly impatient person, but waiting to hear from Allan or Robert was driving her up the wall.  She’d sorted her emails by department and priority, gotten a report from Tab’s teachers, and started in on the pile of work Yvonne had cheerfully dropped stacked on her desk.  She’d even read the assistant human resource manager’s suggestions for a dress code update.  Twice.

“Yvonne,” she called, letting the memo flutter down on to her desk.  “Do we seriously have a problem with excessive piercings?”

“Just that guy in security.  The cute one with the dark hair and the dragon tattoo.”

“Do you think it’s a distraction that ‘hinders the productivity of the company as a whole’?”

“No.”  Yvonne stepped into Georgiana’s office and sank onto an upholstered chair.  “But I’ll tell you what is a distraction: that nasty woman down on the first floor who insists on wearing navy blue underwear with white pants or a regular bra under a wrap shirt.  No one wants to see her granny panties
or
her pasty flab.  Especially not on a Monday morning.”

Georgiana pushed the memo toward her assistant.  “Maybe I should request that you be invited to join the dress code committee.”

“As long as you understand that I cannot be held responsible for what I say if that crazy lady in legal brings up appropriate nail polish colors again.”

Georgiana glanced at her unpolished nails.  “I created a glow-in-the-dark polish for my fourth grade science fair project.”

“Perhaps you should sit in on the dress code committee meetings,” Yvonne countered.

Georgiana’s cell screen lit up and displayed Claire Prask’s name seconds before her desk phone rang.  She reached for her cell while Yvonne dove for the desk phone.  She spun her chair around so that she and Yvonne didn’t have to yell to be heard over each other.  The acoustics in the office were dismal.  She and her father had discussed replacing the insulation in the walls, and she’d investigated ceiling tiles that were supposed to…

“Georgie, what is this I hear about you being the luckiest girl in our graduating class?” Claire laughed.  The poor international connection did little to disguise the amusement in Claire’s light, airy tone.

“Claire!  I’ve been trying to call you all morning,” Georgiana said.

“And I called during your lunch break but you were… occupied.”

Georgiana’s cheeks flamed.  She forced herself to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl.  “Yeah, I was.  Listen, Claire, I need to ask you something important.  Do you own any shares of your father’s company?  Are you named in any of his holdings?”

Claire laughed again, though this time the sound lacked its earlier joviality.  “Of course not.  Dear old Dad paid for my FIT tuition, but I repaid him, with interest, afterwards.  Pissed him off something royal.  We don’t talk much.  Mom’s lawyers did a fantastic job cleaning him out, and I sided with her during the divorce.  You know how he can hold a grudge. Why do you ask?”

The relationship between Claire and Prask was strained, but Georgiana didn’t want Claire to hear about her father’s downfall from a reporter looking to get a juicy quote.  “Your father’s in some pretty hot legal water.  He’s in the middle of a financial difficulty, too.”

Claire sighed.  “You always were too nice, Georgie.  Let me guess, Dad’s flat broke and did something monumentally stupid to try to save his ass?”

“Yes.”  Georgiana licked her lips and swallowed down the lump in her throat.  Claire was her oldest friend and had always seen, with perfect clarity, the type of man Walter Prask was.  She wasn’t worried about Claire not believing her. It was just hard admitting out loud how close she’d come to losing her brother.

“What did he do, Georgie?”

“He tried to kill Tab.”

“
Jesus
,” Claire breathed.  “Is Tab okay?  What was that crazy old fool thinking?”

“Tab’s getting better, but your father indirectly caused two deaths.”  Georgiana squeezed the bridge of her nose.  She wondered if she could get away with sneaking off to Robert’s office as soon as she was through with Claire.  “He went after Dan Norwood, too.  He wanted to whittle away at my life so that I was desperate enough to see him as the white knight rushing in to save me.  Like most of his plans, it was doomed for failure.  He’s going to be arrested soon.”

“Step-mommy Georgie,” Claire chuckled.  “Oh, dear.  And with you engaged to yummy Robert.  Tell me, is he as delicious in person as he is in print?”

“No,” Georgiana managed with a straight face.  Claire’s shocked gasp nearly ruined her composure.  “He’s better.”

“I had such a crush on him in high school,” Claire sighed.  “In honor of our friendship, though, I’m willing to overlook my crushed dreams of perfect babies and design your wedding dress.  Unless you’ve found someone else already.”

Georgiana grinned at the trace of uncertainty in her old friend’s tone.  “Like I would let anyone else dress me,” she teased, “you’re the only one who knows how to cover my flaws.”

“Ms. Collier,” Yvonne said.  She tapped Georgiana on the shoulder, one hand covering the mouthpiece of the desk phone receiver.  “It’s Mr. Robert Norwood.”

Georgiana whirled the chair around.  She eyed Yvonne speculatively.  “Claire, I’d like for you to do
all
the dresses for the wedding, if you’re up for it.  You can work with my assistant Yvonne.  I have her right here, if you want to start brainstorming a few ideas.”  She handed the phone up to a wide-eyed, stunned Yvonne.  “Happy early birthday, Yvonne.”

You are the most amazing boss, ever!” Yvonne squealed, throwing her arms around Georgiana for a quick hug before trading phones.  Yvonne pranced out of the office jabbering a million miles an hour at Claire.

Georgiana cradled the heavy receiver between her shoulder and the side of her head.  “Hello, Bobby.”

“Sounds like you made Ms. Ruiz’s day.  Did you give her the afternoon off?”

“Better.  She’s working with Claire on the dresses for the wedding.”  Georgiana tapped her pen against the side of her laptop.  “Have you heard from Allan?”

“Buchanan gave up Prask.  Seems he didn’t trust the bastard, and recorded the audio from their meetings.  He has the original parts from Tab’s Mercedes, as well,” Robert said.

Georgiana frowned.  She should have felt relieved, but she didn’t.  She felt sort of hollow.  “That’s it?  Just like that?  It’s over?”

“It would appear that this is over, at least until Prask goes to court.  Allan is going to remain in Dallas until he learns what the authorities decide to do about Prask.”  Robert’s sigh echoed Georgiana’s unease.

Georgiana’s phone beeped.  She glanced at the display; there was an incoming call from the security desk.  “I need to put you on hold for a second, Bobby.”

Before Robert could protest, Georgiana put the call on hold and pressed the button to switch lines.  She listened to the head of security for a moment.  With every word he spoke, her face grew paler and her lips compressed until they were a bloodless line. 

“Thank you, Mr. Isodore.  Please continue according to procedure.  I will be downstairs shortly.”

The finger that pressed the button to switch back to Robert trembled.  She swallowed and prayed her voice didn’t give too much away.  “I am sorry, Bobby.  I am needed in the lobby.  It appears that Mr. Prask has sensed his impending crash-and-burn and, at the moment, has a handgun pressed against my senior receptionist’s head.”

Robert strung together a creative series of curses that, on any other day, Georgiana would have appreciated.  “What does he want?”

She smiled bitterly.  “Honestly, Bobby, shouldn’t that be obvious?  He has agreed to release Barbara if I speak with him face-to-face.”

“And you told him that there was a greater likelihood of him being sainted, right?”

“Not quite.  I told my head of security that I would meet with Prask.”

Something on Robert’s end of the connection crashed.  He swore again.  “You are not going downstairs, Gigi,” Robert thundered.

“Yes, I am.  I am not cowering behind my desk while one of my employees has the barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead!”  Georgiana’s knuckles were white around the receiver.  “Prask has harmed two people that I care about in an attempt to get at me.  I’ll be damned if I allow him to harm a third.”

“Please,” Robert’s voice lost its hard edge and picked up a pleading note.  “Please don’t do this, Gigi.”

Georgiana hung up the phone without saying another word.  If she allowed Robert to continue, her shaky resolve would crumble.  She passed through the doorway into Yvonne’s office.  Yvonne was still chatting happily with her fashion idol. 

“Yvonne,” Georgiana said, hand pressed against her swirling stomach.  “Could you please make sure that Mr. Isodore has called police so that they can deploy a SWAT team to this location?  I have to run downstairs for a bit.  Stay up here. Please.”

“Georgiana?” Yvonne dropped Georgiana’s cell onto the desk.  “What’s going on?”

Georgiana’s knees were growing weaker by the second.  She wasn’t a hero.  Her heart was pounding so hard she feared it would burst through her chest.  She bit her lip to keep from snapping at Yvonne.  It wasn’t her assistant’s fault Prask was so unhinged or that she hadn’t properly warned her security about him. 

“Could you please just do as I ask?  Thank you.”

Georgiana knew exactly how long it took the elevator to reach the lobby from her office.  She calculated the time anyway, in hopes that simple math would ease some of her anxiety.  At a rate of speed of 5.2 meters per second, the 58 meter ride was only 11.15 seconds.  Each second felt like an hour.  By the time the elevator reached the lobby, sweat dotted her forehead and her legs were the consistency of unset Jell-O.

The first thing she noticed when the doors slid open was the silence.  Not even the light background music was playing.  Her footsteps were like gunshots echoing around the spacious lobby.  Sweat dripped down her spine.  It was a struggle to keep her head held high when all she wanted to do was duck behind the furniture like the rest of her employees.

Prask, his navy blue suit rumpled and stained with sweat, had Barbara backed against the curved metal receptionist desk.  The barrel of a small, sleek handgun was pressed against her temple, and he had one arm around her neck.  White pearls were scattered on the floor in front of them.  She made a mental note to have Yvonne purchase Barbara a replacement necklace.

“You took your sweet time getting down here,” Prask snarled.

Indignation stiffened Georgiana’s spine.  She arched an eyebrow at Prask.  She was terrified, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall to pieces.  “I thought I made it clear that all appointment requests needed to go through Yvonne.”

“Get that bitch over here, and she can trade places with this sniveling cow.”

“Your filthy language is unnecessary, Prask.  As is your behavior.  Now, you told my security staff that you would release Barbara if I spoke with you.  I am here now.” She gestured at a sobbing Barbara.  “Please release my receptionist.”

“No.”

“No?  Are you saying you won’t honor our bargain?  That’s truly a shame to hear, Mr. Prask.  If you don’t have your word, sir, you don’t have anything.”

“I
don’t
have anything,” he howled.  His wild eyes were bloodshot.  He released Barbara’s neck to shake his fist at Georgiana.  Barbara raced from Prask’s side to the waiting arms of a uniformed security guard.  The guard immediately pulled Barbara out of the line of fire.

“I just got off the phone with your daughter, so I know that is a bald-faced lie,” Georgiana countered.  With Barbara freed, she felt a small measure of relief.  There was no one else for Prask to use against her.

She watched the gun carefully.  She could calculate velocity of the projectile based on the caliber.  She could approximate the trajectory based on distance and the angle of the gun and average velocity.  The only variable she couldn’t account for was Prask’s marksmanship.  His fingers were twitchy. 

“She’ll be on your side before she’ll be one mine.  Those damn Norwoods have taken everything from me.  Danny-boy’s spreading stories in the clubs and now all my suppliers are cutting off my credit.  Your precious
Bobby
is buying up large pieces of all my companies for a fraction of what they’re worth.” 

He took one lurching step towards Georgiana.  Though her instincts insisted she flee, she stood her ground.  The alcohol fumes wafting from him stung her nose and burned her tear ducts.  She kept her eyes on the gun and adjusted her calculations.

“He stole you from me,” Prask continued.

“I was never yours.”  Georgiana’s fists were tight balls at her sides; anger, swift and hot, rushed through her.  “You were crazy to think that getting rid of Dan and my brother would be enough to make me turn to you.  You’d have to kill every person on this planet for me to be that desperate, and even then I’d turn you down.”

“Uppity bitch.”  Prask’s lips curled up in a sneer.  “Just like your bayou trash mother.  Her mama was from a good Creole family, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a Coon-.”