Eyes on You (16 page)

The first time I saw Carter that day was at the meeting. I had my back to the door when he came in, but even before I heard his voice, I sensed his presence like a magnetic force. We locked eyes once as he sat down, but I avoided him for the rest of the meeting. I didn’t want anyone intercepting a look between us.

The meeting that day seemed chaotic, with Tom distracted and often a beat behind the discussion. Some of the talk focused on a story that was quickly falling apart: Charlotte’s, of course. I’d seen one of the guests she’d booked on other shows, and he was as exciting on-screen as a slab of lard.

“We need to throw him overboard and pull in someone else,” I said. “It’s not simply that he’s uncomfortable on-camera. His answers are usually worthless.”

“He’s very knowledgeable,” Charlotte shot back, her cheeks more flushed than usual. “He just has to be asked the right questions.”

I couldn’t believe the tone she took with me. “Nope, he’s gotta go,” Tom announced. “The guy stinks, Charlotte. Find somebody else.”

She nodded, chastened, and then aimed a withering glance in my direction. I felt goose bumps race up my arms. My God, I thought, is
she
the one who’s doing these things to me?

I let Carter leave the room before me, but as I emerged into the corridor, still brooding about Charlotte, he was standing there, bunched with Ann and Tom.

“Just who we were looking for,” Ann said when she spotted me.

I greeted her with a smile. I sensed Carter taking me in with his eyes, but I didn’t look in his direction. You’re acting twelve years old, I told myself, but I didn’t dare meet that glance of his in front of Tom and Ann.

“The
Daily News
is doing a story on the show, and they want to talk to the three of you,” Ann said. “I need an eleven o’clock slot next week when you’re all free. Can you coordinate?”

We promised we would.

“It’s about time Tom got some ink on this,” Carter said. “That’s fantastic.”

“Yes,” I said, glancing at Tom rather than Carter. Tom nodded at me, but there was a quizzical look in his eyes. Was he sensing something?

“Shoot me an email today if you can,” Ann said to the three of us. “I need to book this ASAP. Robin, I’d love an extra minute with you, okay?” As the men moved away, she stepped closer. “How are you doing?” she whispered. “I had dinner not far from your apartment last night, and I stopped by your building afterward. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, I went by a friend’s place for a bite. It was just, I don’t know, good to take my mind off everything.”

I hated lying to Ann at a time when I needed her the most. But I knew I couldn’t confess about Carter.

“Nothing else has happened, has it?” Ann asked, her brow furrowed.

“No, I’m just on edge. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I’m sure Oliver will solve this. In the meantime, I’m going to email you the name of a great masseuse who’ll come to your apartment. With all the press happening for you and the show, you don’t want your stress to show.”

“
Does
it show?” I asked, worried.

“I hate to say this, but a little, yes. And I don’t blame you. When I left your building last night, I felt totally spooked. As if someone was
watching
me.”

“Wait,” I said, alarmed. “
Was
there someone there?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “It was my imagination, I’m sure. But now I know how scared you must feel.”

After saying goodbye, I ducked into the ladies’ room down the hall. I had it to myself, and I stared into the mirror. Ann was right. Whatever good the sex last night had done for my psyche, it didn’t show on my face. I looked not only pale but worn, with gray circles under my eyes, like someone who’d bitten off far more than she could chew.

I’ll call the masseuse, I told myself as I let the ladies’ room door swing shut behind me. More than that, I needed to keep the pressure on Oliver to
fix
this.

As I rounded the last corner, I could hear the click-clack of stilettos on linoleum. Someone was coming fast from the other direction, hugging the wall like I was. I dodged to the left, knowing we’d collide if I didn’t.

I saw the red hair first. Like a fireball. It was Vicky Cruz. I reeled back.

“My, my,
someone’s
in a hurry,” Vicky said.

For a moment I stood there, speechless, my breath quickening.

“I guess we’re
both
in a hurry,” I said. It was the best I could muster.

“Well, be careful,” she said, her words deliberate. She quickly twisted her head, making certain no one was behind her. When she turned back around, her green eyes were hard and filled with hate. “Because wouldn’t it be terrible if you slipped and hurt yourself?”

And then she was gone, except for the sound of her heels driving into the floor.

I touched a hand to the corridor wall and sucked in air.

Wouldn’t it be terrible if you slipped and hurt yourself?
It had seemed like a threat. The type of veiled threat that had been my stepmother’s specialty. “Be
careful
, Robin,” she’d say. “You wouldn’t want to get a stain on that pretty new dress of yours.” She’d drag out the words, the way Vicky had done. And then several days later, there
would
be a stain. Splatters of blue-black ink down the front or a huge, ugly smear of grease.

I took another deep breath. Vicky’s the one, I thought. She’d practically told me so with the threatening tone and the hatred in her eyes.

“You okay, Robin?”

I glanced up. Alex was talking. He was coming down the hall with Maddy; both of them were carrying small plastic cups.

“I’m fine.” I considered what Ann had warned about not letting my stress show. “It’s just been a crazy day.”

“They’re serving frozen yogurt in the cafeteria,” he said, holding his cup out. “Want me to run back and grab you one?”

“No, but thanks.” That had been nice. I felt too queasy to eat anything now, though.

“By the way, did Tom find you?” Alex said. “He asked if I’d seen where you’d gone after the meeting.”

“No, I’ll look for him now,” I said. Hopefully, Tom had an update from Oliver. Then I thought back to the uncomfortable moment in the hallway, when I’d purposefully kept my eyes off Carter. It would be just like Tom to detect any undercurrents.

I turned to go and then looked back at Maddy. “Give me a call later, will you?” I needed to follow up with her about what she’d blabbed to her mother.

I found Tom in his office with an empty sushi container on his desk. He motioned me in, and I closed the door before I took a seat.

“How you doin’?” he asked, hands behind his head.

“Okay,” I said.

“I can’t believe someone we know is pulling this kind of shit,” he said. “Have you heard anything from Oliver?”

“No, I was hoping you had.”

“Not a peep yet. There’s something I wanted to mention, though. Related to you and Carter.”

My breath froze in my chest.
Did
he suspect? “Yes?” I said.

“I know I’ve discouraged you and Carter from taking time off, but if you could use a break one night, that’s understandable. Especially in your case right now.”

Relieved, I exhaled. “Tom, thank you, but I don’t need any time off,” I replied. “As I said before, my tormenter wants me off the air, and I intend to do my best not to let that happen.” As I spoke, I could see Vicky in my mind’s eye, uttering her sinister comment after making sure no one could overhear.

I rose to leave, and Tom held out a hand for me to wait. “One more thing,” he said. He flicked a pencil back and forth a few times. “So Potts told me you went to see him to discuss the show,” he said finally.

I paused, confused. “Tom, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. I’ve spoken to Dave twice in the last month—at his apartment yesterday and when he told me to back off from doing the crime pieces.”

“You didn’t discuss becoming more involved in the segments?”

“Oh, okay,” I said quickly. I had just realized what he was referring to. “It came up that time in his office. But
Potts
mentioned it, not me.”

So Potts had lied to Tom, making it seem like I was the one instigating a bigger role for myself.

“Hey, no need to get defensive,” Tom said.

“I’m not being defensive,” I said. “I just don’t like you thinking again that I went around you. That’s not my style, Tom.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, it probably
is
time to start expanding your role. But give me a few days to work this out.”

“Great,” I said. “I’m thrilled, of course.”

I allowed myself a brief rush of satisfaction. I wondered if it was Tom who had lied, not Potts, trying to guage what my reaction would be. The bottom line: I couldn’t trust either one of them.

A few minutes later, as I hurried back to my office, Keiki called out that Maddy was on the line. I pushed the door shut and picked up.

“Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk lately,” I told her.

“That’s all right,” she said. “Alex has been giving me lots of guidance.”

“Good. He’s very smart, and you can learn plenty from him. On another note, I heard you talked to your mom about me.”

Long pause. “I was just worried,” Maddy said. “You don’t seem like yourself lately. Like today, when we ran into you.”

“There’s a lot going on that I can’t share with you, and though I appreciate your concern, I need you to be discreet. I don’t want people outside of work knowing my business, even if they
are
family.”

Another pause. “All right,” she said, sounding disgruntled.

“Maddy, as I told you before,” I said, “the stakes are high here, and you have to follow the rules.”

“It’s just that I can’t seem to get anything right with you these days.”

She was flipping the situation, making it seem like the trouble was my attitude rather than her mistakes. I said, “You can’t take this personally. You have to think about whether you’re up to the challenges here. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“Of course,” she said after a moment. I couldn’t tell if she got it or was just placating me.

By the time I hung up, my shoulders were up around my ears. I grabbed my cell phone and tapped Carter’s number. He’d texted me in the morning, but I hadn’t replied.

“Were you ignoring me at the meeting?” he asked kiddingly.

“Just being cautious,” I said.

“So can I look forward to the pleasure of your company again?”

Of course he could. That was why I’d called him. “When?” I asked.

“How about tonight? I’m supposed to be in the Hamptons this weekend, but I can wait and show at lunchtime Saturday.”

I laughed. “Kind of short notice, isn’t it?”

“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. You’ve got only yourself to blame.”

“All right, then,” I said. I thought of the scent of his body, how it felt to have him inside me.

“I have a friend who’s a big shot at the Mark Hotel. He’ll gladly comp me a room tonight. Privacy guaranteed.”

Carter suggested I meet him there at nine-thirty. He would arrive a few minutes ahead and text me the room number.

At home after the show, I changed into a pair of white jeans, ballet flats, and a low-cut sleeveless top I hadn’t worn in ages. I stuffed a few toiletries deep into my tote bag. Instead of having the driver wait while I dressed, then drop me off at the hotel, I walked the short distance south from my apartment.

The room turned out to be a small suite, sleek and modern, decorated in shades of beige and brown. Carter had changed into jeans, too, and a long-sleeved white linen shirt.

He pulled me to him as soon as I entered the room, and I could feel his erection through his jeans. “I hope you can wait for dinner,” he said, his voice husky.

Standing in the living area, we nearly tore each other’s clothes off. He was rougher this time, but I liked it. He kneaded my breasts, bit the nipples lightly. And then he spun me around. He leaned me against the table, grabbed my ass with his hands, and entered me from behind. I stretched out my arms, lost in the sensation of Carter sliding in and out, my orgasm crashing over me.

We ate dinner in bed afterward as muffled city sounds drifted up from the street below. I was ravenous. I wolfed down a steak, two glasses of wine, and a piece of warm chocolate cake with caramel ice cream. Sometime during the night, we had sex again.

In the morning, I woke to the sound of the shower running. A few minutes later, Carter emerged with a fluffy towel wrapped around him.

“Morning,” he said, smiling. “Sorry to have to bail on you.”

“Not a problem,” I said.

“My buddy ended up giving me the room for the weekend, so stay if you want,” he said, pulling a leather duffel bag from the closet. “It might be good for you to have a change of scenery after everything you’ve been through.”

I told him I’d think about it, but I knew I wouldn’t stay. I was feeling wired again. As Carter dressed, I thought of Vicky and what she’d implied: I’m going to
make
you slip and hurt yourself
.
She’s not done with me, I thought. She’s not done.

I spent the rest of the weekend trying to stay in motion—errands, tidying the apartment, my first run in weeks around the Central Park Reservoir. When I had brunch on Sunday with a friend visiting from Seattle, booked weeks before, I could barely keep my mind on the conversation.

On Monday morning, I headed down to the newsroom early. At least one of the stories we’d sketched out on Friday was not likely to hold, and I needed to see what was up. Standing there, I found my eyes lured again down the long corridor toward Vicky’s office. As I stared, William Oliver suddenly emerged from the room, like someone slipping through a tear in a curtain. I caught my breath in surprise. Had he found something?

I bided my time for an hour and then took the elevator upstairs.

“Have you got a minute, Will?” I asked after knocking on his half-open door.

“By all means,” he said. He motioned for me to take a seat. His office was sparsely furnished, the desk nearly empty except for the blotter, the phone, and an in-box with a single sheet of paper. Not the kind of guy who sat on his work.