“As if that’ll happen. I don’t think you’ve ever done anything like that in your entire life.”
For some reason that did not feel like a compliment. “Thanks for the confidence. I think.”
“But really, what would stupid entail anyway?”
“Well … you know…”
“What? Falling into bed with the hot construction CEO?”
“Vi, please.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re embarrassed.” Violet unfolded her arms and leaned forward again, elbows on her knees. “You’re adorable when you’re being prudish.”
“I’m not being prudish. You can’t tell me falling into bed with him would be the world’s most fantastic idea.”
“Ah, so you do want to fall into bed with him then.”
Honor eyed her. “I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. Your skin has a wide and varied vocabulary.”
“I can’t, Vi. It’s business. It’s too important for ridiculous things like sex to get in the way.”
“Sex is not in any way ridiculous. At least not when it’s good.” Slowly, Violet straightened. “I know this is a very personal question but—”
“No, please don’t.”
Violet ignored her. “When was the last time you got laid?”
“Oh please, we’re not having that discussion, are we?”
“Why not? It’s a vital question.”
“For you maybe. I don’t suppose you had any brain waves about dinner?”
“I made a casserole and don’t change the subject.”
Honor blinked. She wasn’t the world’s best cook and last time she’d heard, neither was Violet. “You made dinner?”
“I learned a few things in Paris,” Violet said with a knowing look. “And not all of them were about giving head.”
“Vi, for God’s sake.”
“What?” With a sudden, lithe movement, her friend uncoiled from the couch in a tinkling of bracelets and a swish of silk skirts. “You need a glass of wine. Or twenty. Just wait here, I’ll get you one.”
Honor put her hand over her eyes. No, she didn’t need a glass of wine. What she needed was a good shrink to tell her exactly why she found Gabriel Woolf so damn disconcerting. And fascinating.
A thread of sandalwood perfume drifted near. Honor took her hand away to find her friend standing beside her chair looking concerned.
“Hey,” Violet said. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”
Honor let out a breath. Because the little issue of Gabriel Woolf and her attraction to him wasn’t the only problem. There was something else that had been sitting on the edge of her consciousness, just biding its time. Waiting for her to remember.
The apartment’s thick curtains hid the night glitter of the city outside but it couldn’t keep out the sounds of traffic or the distant blare of sirens. A busy, noisy life going on outside the quiet of the room.
“It’s not just about Gabriel Woolf,” Honor said at last. “There’s also Alex.”
“Alex?” Shock passed over Violet’s delicate features. “But how?”
“The two of them were friends, remember? Woolf told me he’s still in touch with him.”
“Jesus.”
“Yes. It’s going to make for an interesting week.” Understatement of the year. Probably of the whole damn century.
Violet frowned down at her. “This could be good, Honor,” she said after a moment. “You wanted to know what happened to Alex, right? Now’s your chance.”
“Actually I don’t know if I want to. He left without a word and…” She stopped abruptly, the old anger a small hot ball in the center of her chest. No, she wouldn’t let herself feel it. She wouldn’t expend any more emotion on the brother who had abandoned her and her mother. She downright refused to.
Violet was silent and Honor didn’t feel the need to offer any further explanations. Her friend knew the deal anyway, had been the ear Honor had poured out all her teenage angst to back when they were still at school together.
“What about your mom?” Violet said at last. “I would think she’d want to know.”
The exhaustion crept deeper into Honor’s bones. Of course her mother would want to know. Alex’s disappearance had just about killed her. “I guess I really have no choice but to go now.”
Violet moved, her fingers brushing reassuringly over Honor’s where they rested on the arm of her chair. “Don’t worry, hon. You can handle this Gabriel guy. You’ll be fine. Now, how about you kick back while I go pour you a wine?”
Honor only nodded. And hoped like hell that her friend was right.
* * *
The arrangements took Honor nearly a week. Weston did something miraculous and somehow managed to clear her schedule, though it meant working a few twelve-hour days in order to get through the work she already had on her plate so that it wouldn’t back up into unmanageable proportions while she was away. Then she had to organize things with Guy and one of his hotels.
The chain stretched around the globe, but only two had been fully remodeled into Guy’s idea of a luxury eco-hotel, one in Mexico and one in Vermont. Although the idea of Mexican heat appealed to her—especially given the winter New York was currently experiencing—Vermont was closer. Plus Mexico felt too much like a vacation, and this was definitely not going to be a vacation. This was purely business. She was going to have to bring some work with her since Gabriel had insisted on a week, but she really didn’t mind that. Anything to keep her mind on the job and not on the fascinating Mr. Woolf.
She decided not to give Gabriel the choice of which hotel, sending him the details of the Vermont property in a terse and to-the-point e-mail. She hoped he’d respond in a like fashion but—predictably—he didn’t.
A whole minute after pressing send her phone rang.
“Mr. Woolf,” she said, not even bothering to check her caller ID. “You have an issue with the details I sent you?”
“You got a problem with Mexico?”
Honor swiveled her chair around to look out of the windows of her office, staring sightlessly across Midtown New York as Gabriel’s rough, heated voice brushed over her like velvet.
In a building across the street, a man was making himself coffee. Honor concentrated on him, watching him through the windows so she didn’t feel the strange restlessness that gathered inside her as Gabriel spoke.
“Mexico can’t accommodate us,” she lied. “Vermont is closer.”
“Pity. I would have liked to see you in a bikini.”
The man was pouring cream into his cup. Stirring. “I don’t have a bikini,” Honor replied. “Besides, a bikini is hardly appropriate work wear. This is business, Mr. Woolf. In case you’d forgotten.”
“Oh, I hadn’t, little girl. When it comes to business, I never forget.”
“Can we do without the patronizing endearments, please?”
“I was going tell you that I’d stop it with the ‘little girl’ if you stop it with the ‘Mr. Woolf.’ But I’ve decided I like the ‘Mr. Woolf.’ So I tell you what, you pick one endearment and I’ll leave it at that.”
The man across the street was now ladling in some sugar. It appeared he liked his coffee very sweet. Honor took a slow, silent breath. Arguing about names was ridiculous. Pointless. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She knew it was a game he was playing with her, a manipulation, and though every part of her told her it was a bad idea, she couldn’t seem to resist playing it, too.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “How about I stop calling you ‘Mr. Woolf’ and you can be ‘little boy’ instead?”
He laughed, a soft, liquid sound that made her toes want to curl inside her expensive stilettos. “You want to play my game? Is that how this week is going to go? Because I gotta tell you, I’m not at all unhappy about that.”
“I don’t play games, Mr. Woolf. I do business.”
“I’m sure you do. In which case if it’s business you’re after, you’d better stop flirting with me.”
No, she would not react. She would not let him get under her skin. “Time is money, and this conversation has already taken up more of both than I would like. Is there anything more you’d like to talk to me about?”
“No, I think we’re done. The Vermont place looks good.” The heat had vanished from his voice, leaving it rough and cold. “I’ll get a chopper to take us.”
“Thank you but I can make my own way.” Honor made sure her tone was the very essence of politeness. There was no way she was going to be reliant on him for her transportation to and from the hotel. Something told her she’d need to be able to get away in a hurry if she had to.
“Yeah, okay,” he said.
Honor blinked, nonplussed by his capitulation. “Fine. That’s settled then.”
“You sound surprised. Did you want me to insist?”
“No, of course not.”
“You could ride with me instead.” There was the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
“Ride? On what?” She didn’t even know why she was asking since she already knew she didn’t want to “ride” with him.