BlindHeat (8 page)

She blinked. Turned her attention back to her task. Even in
a fantasy, she couldn’t really let herself dissolve into Marcus. And why was
that? More important, what had happened at the park that morning? She’d been
ready to dissolve then. She’d even tried to push him into taking what she
offered when he pulled away.

She picked up scattered drawing pencils, arranged them in a
neat row, ordered from softest to hardest. She wished it was as easy to
rearrange herself, go back to the Allie she had been yesterday.

A cold draft of moist air ruffled her hair. The hydraulic
cylinder on the front door hissing as it closed warned Allie someone had come
in. She hoped it wasn’t an ad customer.

“Hey there. Ms. Allison.”

Hopes dashed. But she smiled, because she knew this voice.
Only one man in town with that slow John Wayne drawl.

“Hey yourself, Seth,” she said, swiveling her chair around.

He lifted his cowboy hat from his head and put it on the
counter as he always did when he came in. He wore a white hat, said being a
lawyer he needed all the help he could get convincing people he was one of the
good guys.

She plucked a bright-orange file folder from her outbox.
Orange seemed to suit Seth’s cheerful personality. “I wasn’t expecting you
until tomorrow, but I have the layout for next week’s ad just about ready if
you want a look.”

“I have to go up to DC tomorrow.”

“You make it sound like you’re headed to prison.” Instantly
she regretted the comment. She didn’t want him thinking she was familiar with
people who were facing prison sentences. He didn’t seem to notice the slip.

“I just hate the city. It’s an interesting case though. On
the rights of indigent citizens to use facilities in transit centers subsidized
by the government.”

“Mmm, definitely has me on the edge of my seat waiting to
hear more.” She joined him at the counter before he could launch into a
dissertation. Lawyers tended to get long-winded. It didn’t take long to get the
draft approved and him quickly out the door.

The phone rang. She dropped Seth’s file and answered it.

“Advertising department, this is Allison.”

“I understand your problem. I can help.”

“Marcus?”

“You see? You know who I am now.” He seemed incredibly
pleased by that. His voice had a giddy tone.

“Err…yes. Have you been drinking?”

“Don’t evade. You don’t always know who I am.”

That statement left her feeling more naked than she had when
Marcus stripped away her clothes. Dread tightened her stomach. “I’m sorry,
Marcus, I’m really busy.”

“Deny it then. Tell me you aren’t face blind.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my vision.”

“A couple of hours ago you couldn’t see well without your
glasses. But you don’t wear glasses, do you, Allie?”

“I don’t have time for this.” Allie sighed. “Like I said,
I’m busy.”

She hung up, opened her web browser and Googled “face
blindness”. She’d just clicked the most promising article in the list when
Elaine breezed in, contract in hand, eyes sparkling.

“What are you still doing working over here? Your new office
awaits. I had the janitor carry off the extraneous junk while you were at
lunch.” Allie clicked and the browser closed just as Elaine reached her desk.
“So, are you ready to move in?”

* * * * *

When Allie escaped Elaine an hour later, she had a cardboard
packing box and a thick blue contract folder. Not that the contract would make
a difference. Elaine had said take it home and read it over. Lila, the ad sales
rep, was waiting for her. Things were getting too sticky and complicated. A
growing friendship with Lila was another attachment Allie hadn’t planned on.
Marcus wasn’t the only reason she had to move on and start again. Having an
excuse to pack up her workspace fit right in with her plans.

Allie had concluded Eddie would never hire someone with
Marcus’ personal power to charm. Someone able to convince those around him that
his will was their will. If she set aside Marcus’ claims about a gardening
hobby, the men were just too much alike to ever get along. And while Marcus
hadn’t revealed he was involved in any illegal activities, guys who could charm
the world and get away with whatever they wanted were always up to something
they shouldn’t be. Allie hadn’t had any choice about growing up in Eddie’s
world, but she had one now. Allie planned to log onto the bus site and reserve
a ticket just as soon as she had gotten rid of Lila.

Lila’s eyes sparkled and she bounced with excitement over
whatever the pink phone message slip in her hand said. She slapped it into
Allie’s outstretched palm, folded her arms across her chest, leaned a hip
against Allie’s desk and waited. If Lila expected fireworks, she was looking at
the wrong woman.

Allie concentrated on keeping a calm exterior as she read,
limbs stiff to conceal the shaking anger. “I can give you what you need,
Allison. I can teach you the path to what you long for. Meet me at Pomodori
Fritti’s at seven.”

“He wasn’t on the line long enough to ask his name,” Lila
said, “but I had the impression you would know who he was.

“Must have been the wrong number,” Allie said, crumpling the
message slip and letting it go above the wastebasket, but Lila’s nimble fingers
snapped it out of the air before it could land in the intended receptacle.

Lila looked at Allie in a measuring way, as if she noticed
qualities that Allie was certain she didn’t possess. “Pomodori’s—candlelight, cobblestone
courtyard, fountains, violinist, very old world, very romantic. Sounds like you
have a hot date lined up.”

“I don’t.”

“Honey, if you don’t go out with him, I’m gonna have to. And
since I’m dating my boss that would make my life way too complicated.”

“You’re dating Cliff?”

Lila put a finger to her lips, light glinted on slick
lavender polish, a hue one shade lighter than her outfit. “Shh. Now tell me,
what are you going to wear tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Well that should get his attention.”

“I’m not going out with him.”

“You don’t have anything to wear, do you?”

Allie shrugged. “I’m not into the dating thing. I don’t have
time for it.” She plucked the contract folder from the box and waved it. “I
have other, more important, things to do. Things that require my attention.”

“First, Elaine’s contracts are generous.” She snatched the
folder from Allie’s hand and dropped it in Allie’s inbox. “Sign the thing and
be done with it. You know you can’t turn down that job. Second, sweetie, this
whole paint-it-black, suffering artist/waif look you’ve got going is great—it
brings out that protective side of a guy. But this dude needs to be reeled in.
You need to show up in a dress that will grab him by his short leash and keep
him there for the rest of the night.”

“Uh…sorry, but my black latex mini is at the dry cleaners.”

“You don’t dry clean latex, silly.”

Lila grabbed Allie’s hand. “Come with me. I have just what
you need.”

Allie looked at Lila’s dress, suede in a lilac shade, short
skirt, tight in all the right places and plenty of cleavage displayed in the
low cut of a shimmery silk blouse. Her heels were high enough to break an ankle
while standing still. She imagined just what Lila might conjure from her
closet. The woman did not own anything Allie could apply a low-key label to.
She couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“I know, you’re just shivering with anticipation. Right?”

“Right,” she said. Go along. Get along. Get out when the
opportunity arises. That method had served Allie well up to this point. No
sense in changing something that worked. She let Lila link an arm with hers and
lead her toward the door.

“Cliff,” Lila shouted across the office, “I need Allie to
help me land a big sales account. We’ll be back.”

Cliff waved them off from his office door, a phone tucked between
his ear and shoulder.

Elaine leaned out of her office door. “Take the rest of the
afternoon, ladies. I believe Allie has some celebrating to do.”

“You got it, boss lady,” Lila shouted back and hauled Allie
toward the door. “Elaine’s a slave driver, but she always makes the grind worth
it. She’s the kind of boss you don’t mind going the extra mile for.”

Allie felt a little pang of guilt. It really irked that she
had to leave Elaine in the lurch. It was just that she felt trouble closing in,
knew in her mitochondria that her time here was running out. If she didn’t go
now, the lion—or should that be wolf?—would be at the door. She wished she had
someone she could confide in.

A new worry had Allie hanging back. She was thinking she
should unplug her office phone. Lila followed the direction of her gaze right
into her thoughts.

“That was a leave-her-simmering call, sweetie. He won’t call
back today.”

“I’d rather leave him simmering and not go.”

Lila tucked Allie’s hand under her arm and marched them
forward. “This will be fun. I’ve got the guest room closet full of
look-but-don’t-touch clothes my mother sent me. Nothing there I’ll ever wear.
We’re about the same size.”

“No we aren’t. You have way more…um…assets.”

Lila grinned. “Thank you. But, madam artiste, you should be
able to spot optical illusions. I use them to enhance. You use them to detract.
You’ll fit. I know these things.”

“Why would your mother send you don’t-touch-me clothes?”

“You know mothers. She’d tattoo don’t touch me across my
forehead if I’d let her.”

Allie didn’t know mothers, but Lila had given Allie a quick,
affectionate hug when she said that, the kind of bubbly warm hug that makes you
feel like you matter. Allie imagined that was how mothers made you feel.

Marcus had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if
she mattered. But there was nothing motherly about the feelings he
demonstrated.

She mattered to Eddie. Allie decided she couldn’t afford to
matter.

“We need to put something together that will drop his jaw,”
Lila was saying. “We’ll just see who begs for what.”

And two hours later, when Lila’s bed was heaped with outfits
examined and discarded, when her kitchen table was scattered with cosmetics and
brushes and combs and hot rollers, when Allie was painted, primped and perfected,
Lila finally led Allie to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the
bedroom.

Allie blinked. Ordinarily, mirrors creeped her out. She was
too stunned to be creeped out. The woman in the mirror was always a stranger.
The stranger in the mirror, the woman who fingered a curl that dangled from an
updo looked like someone she might see in a magazine ad for perfume or jewelry.
Rather than a don’t-touch-me look, she compelled Allie to reach toward her.
Allie’s fingers connected with cool glass, but her mind connected with an old
memory. She was reaching toward a dark-haired girl in a mirror. Only her hand
went through, and the girl grabbed it.

Allie pulled back, looked down at her hands.

“Hey, Allie? You okay?”

Her head came up and she turned. She knew some sort of touch
would be appropriate at this point. At the diner, at the office, people used
some touching gesture to get past awkward moments. In Eddie’s world you touched
for two reasons—for sex or to smash a fist in someone’s face. Lila’s fingers were
making fluttery movements, so Allie grabbed both Lila’s hands. “I’m more than
okay,” she said, hoping she sounded excited instead of scared. She forced
herself to take Lila’s hands in hers. “You’re a miracle worker. It’s a shock
looking in the mirror. I don’t even recognize myself.”

Lila beamed and pulled one hand free to adjust a loose curl
that fell over Allie’s forehead. “Oh it’s you all right, sweetie. The you that
needs to be let out more. But something’s wrong. I get the feeling you’re
spooked. Sometimes it helps to tell a friend.”

A friend. Allie turned that concept over in her mind. If she
included Lila and Franny, she could count the number of friends she’d had in
her life on three fingers. One of those friends she’d nearly gotten killed.

“I’m not the safest person you could pick for a friend.”

Lila pushed some blouses aside, kicked off her shoes and sat
cross-legged on a corner of the bed. “Why’s that?”

Allie perched beside her. “My father likes to shoot people.”

“Even your friends?”

“Well, in his defense, the friend he shot was a boyfriend.
When he walked in on us we were exploring our friendship beyond my father’s
idea of proper boundaries. Which is funny when you throw in the fact my father
owned a club that rented women to the customers for sex.”

Lila squeezed Allie’s hands. “Your father killed your
boyfriend?”

“He shot him. He might have killed him, but we were by the
river and Jason jumped in. Lucky for him, it was night and he could swim.
Eddie, my father, couldn’t.”

“What’d you do?”

“I took the coward’s way out and ran. Been running ever
since.”

“You were how old?”

“Seventeen.”

“Let me just take a wild guess here—not that you come across
as antisocial or anything—Jason was your first and only?”

Allie sighed and nodded. “And that was only our second
time.”

“You sure Jason came through okay?”

“Yeah, his brother knew a doctor you could pay not to ask
questions or notify the cops. We lived in a neighborhood where people didn’t
ask questions. Jason texted me once to say he was okay. I ditched my phone
after that so Eddie couldn’t track me. Eddie isn’t the sort who forgives and
forgets. I can’t remember ever seeing him so mad. I had to stay on the move,
keep a low profile.”

“So it’s possible this guy who’s so bent on taking you to
dinner could have been sent by your father?”

Allie plucked a silk blouse from the pile of clothes on the
bed. She shook it out and chose a padded hanger to hang it on. “No, I’ve ruled
that out. I’m not afraid Eddie sent Marcus. I just don’t know the rules with
him, how nice people go about dating. You know?”