Lucky Charm Read online

  It had been fun for a while but all the pleasure had suddenly disappeared. She’d misjudged everything tonight.

  “Miriam,” Ariel said, “I’m going to go.”

  “Aw, but Ariel the fun’s just getting started,” Miriam protested as she accepted her shot.

  With a small smile, Ariel said, “I have a long drive tomorrow afternoon. It’s better if I go. Thanks for bringing me, though.”

  “To Ariel, a toast,” Steve called. “Come on, Ariel. There’s one for you, too. You have to drink to this one.”

  Taking a deep breath, she said evenly, “No, I don’t. Good night, everyone. Have fun.”

  Ariel went resolutely out the door into the humid Fort Lauderdale night, looking for a cab.

  She felt stupid and foolish. How had she misjudged Matthew so badly? She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt but the way Carly had leaned in to whisper in his ear had been intimate, though. It hadn’t taken him long to recover, if it looked the way it seemed. Of course, Ariel knew nothing about him. She might have kept him out of his own bed, or someone else’s. No rings didn’t necessarily mean not taken. It wasn’t as if she’d taken the time to ask the requisite questions. His skillful hands had brought up the raging fire within her and she’d responded. That was the chance she’d taken by having sex with a stranger. He’d given her the opportunity to stop. She was the one who’d chosen not to. Feeling disappointed was foolish. She had only herself to blame.

  Really, though, she couldn’t bring herself to blame either herself or him, it had been wonderful while it lasted. That was all that it was and all she’d said she wanted it to be.

  None of which helped her feel any better.

  Ariel started walking simply to walk, not knowing if she was going in the right direction. Walking out of the bar without finding out which way to go was stupid. What had she been thinking? She knew better, with her sense of direction. For some foolish reason she felt like crying and that was stupid, too. It had been a one-night-stand, what did she expect? Nor should she have expected anything else. It wasn’t her place to judge him, either, after all, no one had told her to bring him back to her own motel room.

  One-night-stands weren’t her thing, or anything else, not for three years or more. It had been an impulse brought on by need, by loneliness and a longing she didn’t want to admit she felt. She didn’t know the man and this was the price you paid for making rash decisions.

  A taxi turned the corner. She lifted one hand.

  She was so distracted she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

  A hand gripped her arm and swung her around.

  “You can’t leave now,” a familiar voice snapped.

  Ariel looked up and sighed.

  For a minute, Matt was torn. The disappointment in Ariel’s eyes burned. What was she thinking? That he’d jumped right from her bed into someone else’s? As if he was the kind of man who looked for notches on his bedpost, the way Steve did? In a way, he couldn’t blame her. What else would she think? That was what she thought she’d saw. Should he let her go thinking the worst of him? That ate at him. He was here for a reason, though, and he had to remember that. That was what he should concentrate on. The only problem was he couldn’t bring himself let her go thinking that of him – not only for himself but for her. There was that look in her eyes. He wasn’t that kind of man and he’d be damned if he was going to let her think he was.

  Then he saw Steve heading for the door Ariel had just exited, an unpleasant look on his face. Something about that expression didn’t look promising.

  That was the last straw.

  Patting his pockets, he said, “Damn, I forgot my wallet in the car, I’ll be right back.”

  They barely noticed him leave. Carly and the other girl were debating their commission structure, which of them had gotten the better deal and whether Marathon was ripping them off.

  He walked out to the street, looked in both directions and saw Ariel up near the intersection just as Steve reached her. Took her arm and wrenched her around.

  “Let her go,” he shouted.

  Steve turned, startled. He flung up his hands. “I was just making sure she was safe,” he said.

  A glance was all it took to have the other man take a step back.

  “Sure you were,” Matt said.

  Backing away, Steve hurried back toward the nightclub.

  The cab was heading for the curb. He didn’t have much time. Ariel’s black-fringed blue eyes looked back at him, her expression wary, tired and disillusioned.

  Oh, hell.

  Ariel took a deep breath. The confrontation with Steve had been bad enough. Her heart still pounded. She’d been relieved when she’d heard Matt’s voice, seen his expression. All it had taken to get Steve to back off had been that look. That Matt had come after her made her want to hope, something she didn’t dare do. She was leaving the next day. It was better that way.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Matthew,” she said.

  His thick blond hair blew in the warm, humid breeze. He was so very handsome. Why had he come after her? Did she really want or need to hear an explanation? She didn’t know. What she did know was that she didn’t want to feel all these conflicting emotions.

  “I do,” he said, “It’s not what you think.”

  “Why does it matter what I think?” she said. “You’re your own person, I have no right or hold on you, nor any right to judge you. It was only one night. Tomorrow I’ll be in another city, another town. You’ll never see me again.”

  It mattered to Matt a great deal, if only for the look in her eyes but also because she’d saved his life. Without her it was likely he’d have wound up the same way that Bill had, found dead in some alley. It was also about the sorrow he saw in her eyes, that sound of longing in her throat when he’d touched and kissed her. And for those whispered words, when she’d said she’d forgotten what it was like to be touched. In very many ways, Ariel O’Donnell was an innocent, wounded somehow. It did, in fact, matter to him very much what she thought of him.

  Matt wouldn’t for any reason have wanted to hurt her.

  He looked at her. “It matters, Ariel.”

  The cab pulled up.

  “You don’t do one-night-stands, do you?”

  His green eyes were so direct, so earnest and so beautiful. It was crazy, but looking into those eyes, Ariel found she wanted to believe in him.

  She shook her head, slowly. In nearly three long years no one had touched her. Something she’d seen in his face, a reflection of her own loneliness perhaps or the long weeks on the road had broken past her resistance.

  That and the tenderness of his touch.

  Somehow Matt felt vindicated and relieved. He’d been right.

  “You gave yourself to me the other morning, and that’s not something I take lightly. Believe me.”

  Ariel sighed and smiled a little, feeling more than a little relief as a weight fell from her shoulders.

  “It’s nice to know I didn’t misjudge you but I have no right to say even that much. No right to judge you at all, really.”

  “If it weren’t for what I’m doing…”

  Matt couldn’t tell her, couldn’t explain, not without involving her. She worked for Marathon in some capacity. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  That hesitation was fatal. It was a reminder Ariel hadn’t needed. She remembered the men who’d beaten him, her own hands pressing the cold washcloth against the bruise on his face. Whatever he was doing, it was clearly dangerous. She’d seen that. And she didn’t want to know what it was.

  She also remembered his gentleness when he touched her. Her eyes were drawn to his firm mouth, remembering the feel of it on hers, the taste of him. For a moment she felt herself sway toward him, wanting to feel that, wanting to kiss him again. Something moved in her that she hadn’t felt in a long time and something else that still did. Fear. For him. Of losing someone she cared for. Whatever he was doi
ng was dangerous.

  She chose to run, reaching for the door of the cab.

  “Be careful, Matthew,” she begged, “whatever it is you’re doing, be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Matt saw something in her eyes, a longing and that shadow. Something else shimmered in them, too, something he didn’t want to think about. It took everything he had not to haul her back into his arms and kiss her breathless, kiss her until she wouldn’t leave. But there was Bill. It was better this way.

  It cost him nothing to make the promise. He would anyway for the sake of his own skin and for Bill if not for her.

  “I will,” he said, “I promise.”

  She ducked into the cab. Those black-fringed blue eyes looked up at him and her mouth softened. Then she closed the door.

  He watched the cab drive away. It was better this way. Now he’d have no distractions.

  A streetlight caught her glancing back, the brief flash of light illuminating her ivory skin, her lovely eyes hidden in darkness.

  There was Bill and Bill was dead. His buddy Bill, who’d stood beside him during the bad times.

  Somebody had killed him, someone probably, possibly, from Marathon.

  Matt was going to find out who it was, and why, by whatever means necessary. He owed Bill that much.

  Chapter Six

  As Matt returned to their table he looked at Carly. That was more like it. She was classically beautiful, aristocratic, tall and willowy, not small and curved. She didn’t need his protection nor would she want it. Neither did Ariel really, as she’d proven, but she brought that instinct out in him whether she needed it or not. Apparently the idea of shots broached by those at the bar had carried over to those at the table. There were empty shot glasses on the table in front of them and Carly had loosened up a little more. Since he hadn’t been at the table, a shot glass awaited him. Frankly, he needed it. He tossed it back. At least it was a reasonably good tequila, Cuervo Reserva by the taste. It slid down his throat smoothly.

  Rick signaled for another round.

  From the bar Steve shot glaring glances at him as the drinks were delivered. Matt ignored him and tossed the shot back easily.

  The shot or shots she’d drunk had loosened Carly up enough to let her slide her hand further up the inside of his thigh, nearly to his crotch. The erection he’d tried not to notice while thinking of Ariel responded to the warmth of Carly’s hand but somehow not in the same way.

  It had only been one night. Ariel had been right about that. She was also right that it didn’t give her the right to make judgments about him. So what the hell difference did it make to her what he did? What right did she have to look disappointed in him? To judge or misjudge him? Thinking he was some bed-hopping Romeo?

  He was irritated and angry but didn’t know why. Oddly, he felt as if he’d lost something important but didn’t know what it was.

  Ariel was gone, to another city, another town. Moving on, doing whatever it was she did. It was best to forget her.

  He tried.

  At the door to her apartment, Carly pressed herself against him, her expectations clear. He needed the in to Marathon and Carly was one way to get it. No expectations except this one, to get into his pants. Unlike Ariel. What the hell was it with that girl that she’d gotten so far under his skin after just one night? She was gone, but Carly was here. Although he could almost feel Darrin’s disapproval as well as Ariel’s, and his own better instincts rebelled against it, Ariel was gone. Carly was not.

  So he kissed her and she kissed him coolly back. There was no passion, no fire in her. He made love to her and she accepted the attention as if it was her due but she never reached out to caress him. He tried not to miss the lush fullness in his hands, since that wouldn’t be fair to Carly. There was no shivering joy, either, no warm arms wrapping around him to stroke his hair afterwards. Carly didn’t want any of that, she tumbled back sated and fulfilled. There would be no cuddling, it was obvious she’d be just as happy if he left. He sat on the bed, stripped off the condom and dropped it into her wastebasket.

  He felt strangely empty.

  In the back of his mind he heard again a small voice saying in wonder ‘I’d forgotten…’

  He tried to put thoughts of Ariel away, of how sweet it had been to wake up to her in the morning, her small frame tucked into the curve of his body.

  Carly didn’t have any expectation he would stay. It was also clear she didn’t want him to, either.

  He didn’t.

  So why did he feel like such a total shit afterwards, driving back to his hotel? Not on Carly’s behalf – he didn’t think she’d care, she was happy enough – but on Ariel’s. A woman he’d probably never see again. Why did he feel he had let down his standards for all the wrong reasons? He hadn’t used Carly, she’d been a willing participant. No matter how it came down, though, it felt wrong.

  Focus on the problem, he reminded himself, focus on Bill.

  It wasn’t even that hard to borrow Carly’s ID. To her it would be an inconvenience, nothing more.

  It was late, but he decided to try again to bypass Marathon’s security. He couldn’t think of a better hour to try.

  This time he slipped in through the new construction. The memory of the beating he’d taken somewhere among these offices both chilled him and made him more cautious. This time there’d be no Ariel to come to his rescue. He wouldn’t be that stupid, or that unprepared, again.

  The construction was a weakness in the defenses of this building. For most of the tenants, that wasn’t an issue. Most had nothing to hide and not much to tempt someone to steal except their computers.

  Marathon, however, did.

  What was different about Marathon from some of the other companies in the building?

  He looked at the listing of offices. Of them all Marathon was the only one to occupy two complete floors and the only financial investment company. It was interesting, although he didn’t quite know why. He located the stairs, went to the elevator and pressed the up button. Leaning in as the elevator opened, he quickly pressed the button for Marathon’s lower floor and then ducked out again, letting the doors close. He trotted lightly up the stairs and peered in the window of the security door.

  The sound of walkie-talkies in the stairwell told him what he needed to know. He crept up the stairs silently to avoid the watchers.

  As the sound of electronic voices faded away down the stairs again, he slipped back down to the security door.

  Looking at it, he realized there was probably a control system somewhere which showed when the door was opened. A simple switch, it would be difficult to detect. That was probably how they had discovered him before. He wouldn’t test that tonight, that would stir up a hornet’s nest. They’d likely search the entire building. He looked through the window for signs of eyes in the sky, those dark bubbles in the ceiling that hid surveillance equipment, or cameras in the corners but he didn’t see any of that.

  That was unusual, there should be some, with all the other security it was astounding they didn’t have Big Brother watching but they didn’t. He was left with the feeling that they wanted to be guarded but they also wanted no physical record, no pictures of who came and went.

  So close. Somehow he had to find a way to get in to look at their files.

  Drawing out Carly’s ID he looked at it then at the keycard slot in light of Bill’s death.

  If he used it, he’d put Carly at risk. She didn’t deserve that. He wouldn’t put her in danger, not even for Bill.

  He waited a little while to let things settle before slipping quietly out of the building and returning to his hotel.

  Carefully, he scouted around it as he had each night, looking for signs he’d been spotted.

  By now Marathon knew he was here. Moe, Larry and Curly would’ve reported him. The company seemed to have money to burn, enough to hire a lot of goons. It was unlikely they wouldn’t be looking for him.

  They were, in fact.r />
  A tell-tale glow in a car down row in the line of parked cars betrayed the watchers. A cigarette. It glowed again as someone inhaled.

  Carefully, he made his way around but he couldn’t see the occupants of the car clearly, just shadows. Two, at least, though. Well, he’d taken the precaution of carrying his bag down to his car each morning, just in case.

  He was curious how they’d found him in the first place. Did they have his name? Had they made the connections?

  Not that it mattered. It was time to move on.

  By midday Ariel had all the little problems that cropped up in the Fort Lauderdale office resolved. It was a relief to hop into her rental – not a sports car like Matt had but a plain sedan – and hit the road to Tampa. It would be a long drive but maybe she’d also be able to put the memory of a tall, sexy blond stranger behind her.

  Marathon had a number of offices around the country and as the representative who’d sold the software to them she would also be the one installing the software in all of them. When she was done they would all be linked and sharing data. Starting at the closest, she was working her way full circle back to Titan’s offices in Virginia on the outskirts of DC. Titan hadn’t made a dent in the west coast client base, it was a hard market for any company to break into, but Marathon would open it up if this installation was successful. She intended it to be very successful.

  That left a lot riding on her shoulders under the watchful and anticipatory eyes of the company owners, Paul and Rae Anne. She called him on the drive to Tampa to report in but got Rae Anne instead.

  Involuntarily, she winced and then made a face at the phone.

  Of medium height with blunt cut hair, a surprisingly flirtatious manner around everyone when her husband wasn’t looking and a strong tendency to drink far too much at public functions, Rae Anne Robards was Paul Montgomery’s partner as well as his wife and the brains behind the software. Paul was the money man, worried about the bottom line, while Rae Anne ensured the software met the client’s needs – but not at the sacrifice of the sale. Both were far too anal retentive about unimportant matters for Ariel’s tastes. Everything had to be logged, each phone call, text and e-mail, even if you only left a voice mail. They had no qualms about checking their employee’s e-mail or voice mail and sending off sharply worded messages if they didn’t meet their exacting standards. In the meantime testing of the software wasn’t always as rigorous.