Kill the Competition (26 page)

Julian drove a navy blue Audi sedan with caramel-colored glove leather seats. Carole would have said it was a nice ride. So would she, Belinda decided, except she couldn't fully enjoy the experience because they were moving at seventy-eight miles an hour. Granted, it was a smooth seventy-eight miles an hour.

The man had a beautiful profile. Speed agreed with him—in fact, he seemed to get high on it. She had heard of driving gloves but had never known anyone who took driving so seriously as to actually own a pair. They were fingerless, with padded palms, and apparently were coated with some kind of substance that allowed him to control the steering wheel with as little contact as possible. He seemed giddy, his fingers drumming, his head moving to the beat on the radio.

"It's been a long time since I drove in rush hour instead of over it," he said with a laugh, oblivious to the fact that they were almost airborne. "Thankfully the worst of the traffic is over."

Thankfully. "You didn't arrive back from Raleigh in time to go up in the chopper?"

"Er... no. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to fly again, and hopefully conditions will be better than they were this morning."

"So you heard how bad it was?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah—I heard it was terrible."

"I missed hearing your voice."

He grinned. "You mean Talkin' Tom's voice."

"Now that I know the truth, I hear your voice in his."

He reached over to stroke her wrist with his thumb, sending little thrills up her arm, which might also have been terror because he was now driving with one hand. "So how did you fall?"

"Just carelessness," she said. "It's strange, but since I heard about Jeanie's accident, I've been taking the stairs. And then I almost break my neck on
them."

His expression went still. "Guess it goes to show you that when your time is up, it's going to happen, regardless."

"That's a fatalistic outlook," she said softly. Especially for someone who considered the speed limit voluntary.

He shrugged, then gave her a little smile. "Pilots have to be fatalists, or we'd never climb into a cockpit."

She chose her words carefully. "Julian, how well did you know Jeanie?"

Another shrug. "Well enough. We hiked together on weekends and competed in a couple of 10K runs together. We had fun. You remind me of her a little."

Hm. "Were you involved romantically?"

He pulled his hand away, and she missed it. "We were involved physically, but not romantically." Then he flashed a rueful smile. "Sorry, babe. You asked."

Babe?
"No, it's fine," she said quickly, although her stomach felt swimmy—of course, it might have been car-sickness. "The girls said Jeanie was jumpy, maybe even paranoid before she had the accident. Did you notice anything different?"

He shoved his hand into his hair, then shook his head. "No. I thought she was careful, just like any single woman should be."

"But not afraid of anything specific?"

"Not that I know of, other than that boss of yours."

Belinda frowned. "Margo?"

He gave a dry laugh. "Well, not literally, but she was always nervous about pleasing her, said the woman could make her life miserable. I don't know her very well, but you said yourself she could be a tyrant."

Belinda nodded, still warring with her feelings toward Margo. Many great leaders were misunderstood and were forced to make unpopular decisions. Margo couldn't be all bad—in fact, thanks to her, this starting over thing was starting to look like it might actually succeed. "Actually, I think Margo might have a little crush on you," she said with a grin.

"Yeah, she's come on to me in the gym before, but she's pretty severe."

Instead of being dragged into a discussion about her boss's attractiveness, Belinda decided to concentrate on hanging on for dear life. She hadn't realized that the distance between Midtown and Alpharetta could be traversed so quickly. "D-don't you worry about being pulled over?"

"Nah. I have friends in the APD. Alexander isn't one of them, by the way."

"I saw him today."

He scowled. "Where?"

"A guy Margo fired a few months ago barged into her office. No one was hurt, but Wade was following up."

"Wade?"

"Um, Lieutenant Alexander."

"He seems to have a knack for being everywhere," he said sarcastically.

She squinted. "What do you have against him?"

His jaw tightened, then he smiled. "I don't care enough for the man to have anything against him. How about lunch this week?"

"Maybe Wednesday? Tomorrow I'm having my car repaired."

"How much damage?"

"Headlight, dented fender, and a broken trunk latch. Oh, and the tire of course, but I already had it replaced."

"I meant how much is it going to cost you?"

She told him, and he whistled.

"The next time you need bodywork, let me know." Then he grinned and winked. "Not that you need bodywork."

She laughed at his friendly flirtation and marveled over her different reactions to the three men who had shown an interest in her. Perry sickened her. Julian incited her. And Wade... disconcerted her.

The clock on the dash read 7:35 p.m., and darkness was falling early due to cloud cover. Her wrist was beginning to throb, and her head was making itself known. She warned Julian of the upcoming turnoff to give him plenty of time to slow down. He did—some—then they were tearing through Libby's neighborhood in the semidarkness. She prayed that all children and pets were stashed away securely in their homes.

Considering the girls' Operation Nosy Friend and Julian's need for speed, Belinda worried they might arrive at Libby's before Libby, but when they roared up, the Honda sat in the Janeses' dark driveway.

He pulled alongside her car and shifted into park. "I'll wait for you."

"I might have to go in for a minute—I missed out on an after-work, um, project."

"Take your time."

She gave him a grateful smile, then closed the door and hurried up the sidewalk to Libby's house. Two sodden newspapers lay on the stoop, next to a pot of drowned geraniums. Belinda rang the doorbell and gathered her coat around her against the chill left in the storm's wake. The wind whipped her face, stinging the tender skin on her cheek, and she was thankful again that she hadn't injured herself worse. Her penchant for accidents lately would give a therapist pause.

An outside light came on and the door opened abruptly. Libby, still in her work clothes, sans the shoes and pantyhose, was in the middle of yelling at someone.

"—and I
mean
it!" She turned to Belinda and sighed. "Take my life... please. Come in if you dare."

Belinda laughed and stepped into a crammed foyer. The scent of fried chicken permeated the air, and two televisions blared from different directions. "I can only stay for a few minutes—a friend drove me over."

Libby's eyebrows climbed, and she peered out. "A friend?"

Belinda closed the door to circumvent Libby's curiosity. "I ran into Julian as I was leaving the building, and he offered to drive me."

Libby frowned. "Where did you get the shiner?"

"Oh." She touched her cheek gingerly. "I fell in the stairwell at work."

"Did Margo push you?" Libby asked sarcastically.

"No. I was alone, and it was an accident."

"What was so important that you had to stay over?"

"Just a matter on the Payton acquisition to clear up before Margo left for vacation." To change the subject and because her own curiosity was getting the best of her, she asked, "So, how did it go with Rosemary?"

Libby sighed. "Carole was late, so we missed her."

"Oh. Well, it was probably for the best."

"We'll be ready next time."

"Or you guys could simply tell her that you're concerned friends and see if she tells you of her own volition."

Libby shrugged. "Maybe."

Belinda shook her head. "I'm taking tomorrow off to have my car repaired and to get my driver's license changed—should I call Rosemary to let her know?"

"No, I'll tell her when she gets here in the morning. Are you sure you can't come in for a while?"

"Thanks, but I really need to get home."

Libby's head bobbed. "With Julian?"

"With an ice bag. I sprained my wrist."

"Oh. Well, feel better, and try to enjoy your day off. You'd better take something to read in that DMV line."

"Duly noted."

"In fact..." Libby disappeared into a darkened side room, then reappeared with a half-inch stack of pages and a huge grin. "You can be the first to read the opening to our DOs and DON'Ts manuscript."

Belinda hefted the pages in her good hand. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Especially if it means extra cash."

"Does this mean you're not getting a part-time job?"

Libby looked over her shoulder, as if she was afraid she'd be overheard. "I came into a little unexpected cash, so I'm okay."

Belinda really didn't want to know any details, so she pointed over her shoulder. "I'd better get going." She took the car keys Libby extended. "Thanks again for driving my car home."

Just as Libby opened the door for her, a huge crash sounded from another room in the house, and a wailing ensued.

"Libby!"
a man roared.

Libby closed her eyes briefly. "One of these days, Belinda, I'm going to come unglued. Think of all the writing I could do in a nice, quiet prison cell."

Belinda gave her a pained smile and a quick wave, then vamoosed and closed the door behind her. Julian's car was still running. As she approached the driver's side, his window came down, and he leaned out. A sheen of perspiration glistened on his upper lip, and he seemed eager to get going. Guilt stabbed her as she held up her keys. "I'm good to go."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hand drumming.

"Absolutely. My place is only a couple of miles away."

"Maybe I can see it next time."

"Sure," she said, her chest warming at the prospect. "Thanks again."

He winked, then glanced at her car. "I can follow you home. Just to be safe."

"You're the danger."

His smile vanished. "What do you mean?"

Belinda laughed and leaned closer. "The first two times we met we literally ran into each other, then you set my mouth on fire with Thai food, then you seduced me in a public place, and now I discover that you drive as if you have a death wish."

His mouth curved into a sexy grin. "So I get a kick out of danger. Does that scare you?"

Electricity crackled in the air, reminding her of the Big Daddy stun baton the girls had given her. In the low lighting, he was handsome, frighteningly so. The hair raised on the back of her neck. "No," she lied.

His grin deepened. "Good."

"But really, there's no need to follow me home. I'll be fine."

"Okay—I'll call you." He flashed a killer grin, put the car into reverse and backed out onto the street, then sped away.

Belinda watched until his tail lights disappeared, then walked to her car in the gloom of late dusk, plagued by the same creepy feeling she'd experienced leaving the office. After she slid into the driver's seat, the irrational feeling persisted while she stowed her briefcase and purse, the sense of someone bearing down, ready to pounce. At a rustling in the tall bushes, her heart lodged in her throat. She locked the doors, flicked on her sole headlight, and fumbled to start the car. When the engine roared to life, a bird flew away, and she chastised herself for letting her imagination get the best of her.

Perhaps witnessing the Jim Newberry episode had spooked her more than she realized. Or maybe it was Julian who had her spooked in an entirely different way.

Then she glanced down at the pages of the manuscript Libby had given her. She had one for the book:

DO assess the risk level of a relationship before you proceed.

Chapter 19