Authors: Aurora Rose Lynn
To her horror, he angled his neck to survey her with an affected detachment. A look from head to toe and back up again. Broad lips turned up in a lopsided grin before he looked away. The colour drained from her face as she clenched her hands into tight fists. Terror seized her. Colin, James Carmichael's brother, had re-emerged to haunt her life.
Nicole backed away, heading for the lobby doors. She wouldn't spend time with Colin in the same building. His irate words, shouted years earlier, rang in her ears. “I'll get you, bitch. I'll get you.” He had said those terrifying words as James was led out of the courtroom after being convicted of murder. She bumped into a plump body and whirled around, gasping.
"What's wrong?” Small flecks of snow spotted Brad's hair and his jacket. “Why are you so pale?"
How could she explain the monster she had been trying to lock away for the last ten years? Swallowing hard, she cast a glance over her shoulder. The man was gone, making her think she had dreamt up the whole thing. Relief flooded through her. It couldn't have been Colin, who had threatened revenge on her over and over again for testifying against his younger brother. “I thought I saw someone."
"Who?"
"Someone from Ashcroft,” she said, placing her hand on his arm to comfort herself by making physical contact with someone. She couldn't believe she had conjured Colin up. She didn't fabricate demons from the past. The man looked like Colin, but it hadn't been him. That was all.
"Anyone I would know?” Brad asked, ambling forward.
She didn't reply. Nervous, she slowly surveyed the lobby but the man had disappeared.
They checked her coat in. “I think the party is in Ballroom Three.” Brad studied the board and nodded. “That's it."
Side by side, they walked down a long corridor. Some of the double doors leading into the ballrooms were open, showing men and women boozing, merrymaking and settling down at their tables.
Nicole held on to her secret. This was the third major move she had made in just less than ten years. First, her parents, fearful for their nineteen-year-old daughter's physical and mental safety, had moved her to Vancouver. A continent separated James and Colin Carmichael from Nicole Harris. Assured that James and Colin no longer lived in Ashcroft, she had moved back to take up a position at the law firm there. Six months ago, she had moved to Eastwynd. The nightmares of seeing an elderly man's throat cut from ear to ear had stopped since the move, giving her a sense of security from the trauma of her past. With the dark dreams gone, she had begun to feel Colin had forgotten her and his vow of vengeance.
Brad turned into a ballroom filled with partygoers milling about and chatting. The rectangular tables were set with white lace tablecloths and each had a poinsettia centrepiece.
"Hey, buddy, how's it going?” he asked, greeting a co-worker dressed in clean blue jeans and a white, cut-off T-shirt.
They shook hands. “Who's the pretty chick?"
"My fiancee, Nicole Harris."
She nodded, trying to be friendly to a man who'd already had too much liquor.
"Wayne Terrill.” The man examined her face, his eyes travelling lower and resting on her breasts before he grinned. “Lucky dog, you."
"Sure am,” Brad supplied.
As they turned away, she swore she heard Wayne say to a guy standing beside him, “Michael's made the right choice. Good ass on her."
The other man replied curtly, “Won't last long in her condition."
She frowned. The comment obviously had not been made about her but she had no time to ponder the remarks as Brad ploughed through more co-workers, shaking hands and calling out greetings above the din. He found a table against the far wall with six empty chairs. A dark blue card with scrolled letters, ‘Management', sat in the middle of the table beside a poinsettia with a plaid and gold ribbon wrapped around shiny pine green foil. The three seats against the wall left just enough room to edge in. She squeezed into a seat so she would be able to keep an eye on the people in the room, and not have her back facing the partygoers. The man who had looked like Colin had left her feeling queasy, restless and insecure.
Brad sat opposite her, tugging on his black tie again. Inexplicably, he suddenly became glum and withdrawn.
A waiter in a spotless black and white uniform paused at the table. “Would you like anything to drink, sir?” he asked Brad.
"A draught for me."
When the waiter turned to her, Nicole replied, “Rum and coke."
The waiter nodded and vanished in the thickening crowd.
"Wayne's divorced,” Brad said out of the blue. “I suppose he's looking."
"That's too bad,” she commented, wishing she was anywhere but here. The feeling was stronger since she had seen the Colin look-alike.
One of the men in a black leather jacket and pants ogled her. She quickly looked away. Why couldn't he look somewhere else? But wasn't there truth to the saying that people went to parties not only to socialise but also to see and be seen? She made brief eye contact with a woman in a slimming blue dress. The woman covered her mouth with her hand and whispered something to the man who sat beside her. They both surveyed her and shook their heads in unison disapprovingly. If Nicole hadn't known better, she would have thought she was the subject of their conversation. The drinks arrived in pretty glasses.
"Tom was really unlucky today. He fell into the expeller,” Brad began, leaning forward so he could make his voice heard. “It's the first accident since Anessa opened. It was horrible, with blood and gore spewing every which way. And I couldn't tell which of it was human and which of it was animal. And poor Tom screaming, although I couldn't hear him. I could only see his mouth wide open and his eyes shut tight. Bryan, he's the assistant supervisor, and me, we went running, both of us trying to cut the expeller off from the electrical outlet.” He made a slicing motion across his throat with his palm turned down. “Thank goodness we shut it off when we did. If we hadn't, Tom would be dead."
Maybe that was why Brad was morose this evening, Nicole speculated. She wasn't too interested in the gory details, but was sorry for the guy. “How did it happen?"
He readjusted the knot in his tie as if he was having trouble breathing. “No one knew he was boozing on the job."
"At least you got to him in time and no one else was injured."
Brad shook his head in denial. “Bryan was hurt. Had to get checked out at the hospital after he fell in the muck. Turned out he sprained his ankle."
She nodded, wishing he would change the subject, but willing to listen so he could get the day's tragic event off his chest.
"Michael was like a madman after the ambulances left."
Couldn't Brad talk about anyone else? What was so special about this guy?
"He ordered the plant shut down and a full inspection made. When Bryan told him Tom had been drunk, he went ballistic, yelling no one would drink or smoke dope on the job. He was really, really mad. He warned if another incident like this happened, he'd start checking for drug use."
"Can he do that? Legally?” she asked idly.
"Sure. Random drug testing."
"Is Tom okay?"
"He lost an arm and a leg. Lucky he didn't die from loss of blood. Pretty messy.” Brad fingered the tablecloth.
"Is something other than that wrong?"
"Bryan seems to like his booze too. Sometimes his breath is, let's say, powerful."
"Michael would have to let him go, wouldn't he? Set an example to the company?"
"Everybody at the plant likes him and he also happens to be Michael's cousin. I don't think he'd let him go that easy."
Nicole sighed. Every company indulged in some form of nepotism. “But if he drinks, he could be putting the life of the other employees in danger."
Brad shrugged and focused on something to the side of her. She turned to find out what had drawn his attention. Silver and gold tinsel streamers fluttered in the air conditioning. Musky cologne hung heavy in the air. He had risen to his feet, greeting a newcomer and shaking his hand.
Enthralled, she watched the stranger's long fingers. A gold Rolex peeked out from under a pure white sleeve cuff sporting diamond cufflinks. Immediately, unwanted vivid memories of a happier time and place intruded.
"Michael, may I introduce my friend, Nicole Harris?"
She lifted her eyes to see cold, blue eyes assessing her. Light stubble on the man's jaw made for what on any other man would have been called debonair. On this man, it was sheer devastation. His golden blond hair was cut short in a military buzz, and he had a face with a cleft chin that women would have considered outstandingly attractive. Power, confidence and subdued sexuality radiated from him.
"James,” she breathed. The tortured whisper was lost amidst the tinkling of glasses and people speaking in loud tones. Her breath caught in her throat. Goosebumps rose on her arms. She wanted to turn and run, but her feet refused to follow her silent command. Speechless, all she could do was stare into his face.
His open and friendly smile—but for the coldness in his eyes—warned her he was acting for the benefit of anyone who might be watching, like her fiance. His tailored navy blue three-piece suit showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist, while a white silk handkerchief was immaculately folded in his breast pocket. Once, when she had been in love with him, she had thought he could oust any man as a pin-up for the firemen's calendar. She stared, urging herself to throw her drink in his face, to run, to get away from him. But her limbs refused to move. Heat pooled between her legs.
"Your friend?” Michael asked, keeping his eyes on her stunned face. “I thought Nicole was your fiancee.” His eyes mocked her. “I would love to attend a wedding soon."
She remained frozen. The nightmare had returned. This time it was real. The past she had tried so hard to bury rushed over her like never-ending ocean waves.
Brad slapped his forehead. “Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking,” he apologised, oblivious to Nicole's shocked surprise. How could he forget something so important?
The prickling sensation of fear crawled up her spine. James Carmichael—or Michael, as he now called himself—wasn't likely to forget the fact that she had testified to put him in prison.
"It's such a pleasure to meet you,” he said, placing his hand on the back of her chair. “My brother said he'd seen the sun shining in the lobby. He could only have been speaking about you."
So he was going to keep up the pretence of having just met her. Brad smiled anxiously. Nicole edged away from Michael and the latent sexual power emanating from him. She had found him devastatingly handsome years ago, but now her mind clouded over at his sheer maleness. She stared at her drink, unable to focus. If she looked to her right, she'd get a glimpse of the bulge at the crotch of his pants. She wet her lips, remembering his long, extended cock and his hairy balls. She gulped, knowing why Colin had been in the lobby. He had been a warning. It was Michael whose long arm would reach out and dispense justice and all this time she had thought it would be Colin.
"I hate feeling hemmed in,” Michael said as Brad reseated himself across the table. “Why don't you scoot over so I can sit next to the most beautiful woman in Eastwynd?"
Nicole wondered how to get away from this man who made the blood in her veins hot—and cold. Colin had entered the ballroom. There was no escape now, not unless she wanted to barge by him. Reluctantly, she moved to the next chair. The tight-fitting dress slid higher up her thighs. When she checked to see if Michael had seen, their eyes met. Those mesmerising blue eyes hadn't changed any. A self-confident smile played on his lips, those lips she had kissed and tasted as if they were God's sweet bounty. He sat beside her, every movement fluid and graceful. A moment later, he grasped her upper thigh over the lace she had sewn on. When she moved as if she was going to edge into the next seat, he squeezed his fingers in warning. Her heart hammered against her chest. Her ears rang. But she wanted him. Her body betrayed her with that knowledge.
To Brad, he said, “Would you mind getting me a gin and tonic? It's been a hectic day. Please."
She realised now from the way he spoke that he knew Brad a lot better than her fiance had let on. Brad nodded compliantly and ambled off, stopping to talk with a couple of his co-workers. Abruptly, Nicole knew what it was like to be alone and friendless in a crowded room.
"It's been a long time,” Michael said smoothly, turning to her.
"Get away from me.” She picked at his warm fingers, which remained relentless against her upper thigh.
"Now, how is that a way to talk to your future husband?” he asked, his voice bland.
Horrified that he thought he could just pick up the years where they had left off, Nicole gazed into his face.
He leant forward, as if whispering an important secret. “I let the rumour out that you were intent on marrying me."
What possessed him to talk to her in such an authoritarian manner? “The past is long gone. Leave it alone,” she ground out, searching for some way to make him understand he was no longer a part of her life.
"And don't bother making a scene."
A tiny gold pin on the left lapel of his jacket caught her eye. “You haven't changed any,” she sneered. “You're as domineering as you always were."
"Actually, I have. I have more money now. Doesn't that interest you?"
"I know what kind of game you're playing.” She turned a hostile glare on him. “You only do what benefits you, and you callously disregard anyone's needs but your own. Then you have the gall to call it benevolence."
"Is that why you testified against me? Because you think I'm some kind of evil monster?"
"Yes.” Sweat beaded between her breasts. She had to get away from this man she had once loved. He had killed his father in cold blood. “There can never again be anything between us. Not ever. You made sure of that the day you committed murder."
His smile was tight as he stroked her thigh under the table, where no one was likely to see. “I'm sure if you ask any one of the people in this room, they'll beg to differ with you. Why don't you ask a couple of them, Nicole? Go ahead."