Abbey giggled. "Stop it, Lucy, this is serious."
"I know! Why don't you take the gorilla? You're completely incompatible so he'd be perfect. No chance you'd fall for a moron like him."
"Lucy!"
Lucy held up her hands. "Okay, okay. I tried."
Abbey nodded, still smiling. "Thanks, but I think I'll wallow in self pity for awhile."
Lucy glared at her but said nothing. Abbey breathed a sigh of relief. She meant well, but Lucy didn't understand how she felt. She didn't really understand it herself, but she knew it was more than just sex.
As unlikely as it seemed, she had feelings for Damien Vane.
And that scared her more than anything.
CHAPTER 7
Tarken hated these things. Not only were they dull, but software demonstrations were something only computer geeks could get a kick out of. He was an administrator, a manager, not an I.T. specialist. That's why he'd brought Donaldson along-to talk geek-talk. Tarken was at the Crown Complex software seminar to talk numbers. Donaldson didn't have a clue about money, but he knew everything about software. Tarken knew everything about money and nothing about computers, except how to read and send email. Together they made a formidable team.
Which was good, because the sooner they cut through the sales crap, the sooner they could leave. There were only three software packages relevant to the health care and pharmaceuticals industry, and they'd already had demos of two of them. Software Solutions was the last.
Donaldson pointed to the stand and they headed that way. There seemed to be only one person standing there. Good, that meant they could railroad the salesman with questions and figures, put him on the back foot and get him to commit to a deal in their favor on the spot. Then they could get out of there.
"Excuse me, we'd like a demonstration," he said in his most authoritative voice.
The man turned around and Tarken took a step back, crashing into Donaldson. "You! What are you doing here?"
It was the man he'd seen having dinner with Abbey. His Abbey.
Tarken straightened, drew himself up to his full height-which was still a good four inches less that this fellow, he realized-and glared back at the dark haired man.
His face was grave and a small muscle jumped in his throat. He looked like a man barely holding onto his self control. Tarken swallowed.
"My name is Damien Vane," the man said. He held out his hand. "I believe we met the other night."
Tarken swallowed at the sound of that voice. It was the same voice that had sent the waiter scuttling over and him eager to leave on Tuesday night. In the cold light of day, Tarken wasn't proud of his hasty retreat then. He should've stayed and confronted him. He should have fought for Abbey.
"Yes," said Tarken, shaking his hand, "I believe we did. Are you the Software Solutions representative?"
He nodded. "And you are?"
"Tarken Pratt from JJC Pharmaceuticals. This is my associate, Max Donaldson. We'd like to have a look at your application."
"Certainly," said Vane stiffly. He led them to a table where a laptop was set up and he began to run through the features of his software.
After ten minutes, Tarken yawned loudly. "Okay, I think we've seen enough. Come on, Donaldson, let's go."
"But I've got a million questions," cried Donaldson. "What operating systems can it run on?"
Tarken rolled his eyes and Vane launched into his spiel. Donaldson, curse him, asked his million questions and Vane, double curse him, answered them all smoothly.
The guy knew his stuff, that much was clear even to him.
Finally Donaldson finished. His smile indicated he was satisfied with the answers.
Tarken wondered if all of Vane's customers came away satisfied. Did Abbey?
He let out a loud huff and politely thanked Vane for his time while hustling Donaldson away from the stand. He should've started the ball rolling on a deal, but he just wanted to get away and think this through first.
They were halfway across the room when he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder. He winced. He knew it had been too easy. Vane wanted to confront him on Abbey's behalf, probably prove how macho he was, and tell him not to call her again. Well, too bad. He wasn't giving up on Abbey that easily, especially not to a computer salesman.
"Mr. Pratt, I'd like to talk to you."
Tarken spun round, ready to do battle. The grim determination on the other man's face made him stop. Going by the grip on his shoulder, this guy could beat him to a pulp if he felt like it.
Maybe Tarken could keep him talking. If he remained inside, where hundreds of people were milling about, what could the guy to do to him?
"Please call me Tarken," said Tarken. "Is this about business?"