Power Play (2 page)

He certainly dressed the part of a sophisticated stranger. His classically cut maroon jacket added warmth to his brown skin, although Mary doubted anything could warm his eyes. They were more gray than brown and reminded her of a snowy winter she’d spent in Colorado. He looked like the type of man who would ask for a number and never call.

When he continued to look at her, Mary realized she was staring and tried frantically to remember what it was he’d asked her.
Dianne,
he’d asked her about Dianne. “Oh, no, it’s not that. I’m just tired.”

The man nodded, but it was clear he didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him. She was as bad a liar as James. She glanced down at her shoes so she wouldn’t start staring at him again. It was likely that he was used to it, but she didn’t want to be one of many. Right now she had other things to consider. At least he was someone she didn’t know. Someone who wouldn’t take the time to rub her face in her humiliation. She bet he never got passed over for a promotion.

He, like Dianne, was probably close friends with Lady Luck. Looking at his expensive suit, there was no doubt he was likely in bed with Ms. Luck and keeping her very happy. He and Dianne would make a perfect pair. Mary repressed a sigh. She’d never been lucky. A knot built up in her throat, and she could feel the burning of tears behind her eyes. She took a deep breath and kept them at bay.
“These things happen,”
her mother used to say when she lost the lead in the school play, when she wasn’t invited to a party or when no one asked her out.
“It’s just your luck,”
her mother had always reminded her. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself, she’d deal with the disappointment the way she always had, with resignation.

Mary wondered what her new project manager looked like. Did he wear a bow tie and whine a lot? She hated working with project managers who whined. And why on earth did his investor have to request her specifically? What was his name again? Davis? No, that was his last name. Edward? Eric? Elliot? No, something that sounded old and boring. Edmund? Yes, that was right.

“Edmund,” she muttered in disgust.

“What?” the man asked.

She jumped. Although his voice was soft, his resonant deep tone startled her. “I just said
Edmund.
”

“Why?”

Because I sometimes talk to myself.
She shrugged. “I was just thinking about names.” He nodded and continued to look at her in a way that encouraged her to talk. “I thought my name,
Mary,
was a boring name, but
Edmund
is worse.”

He frowned. “I don’t think so. Actually, I—”

“Have you ever read of a hero named Edmund?”

“Edmond Dantès.”

“Who?”

“The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“Oh yes, him. Except his name was spelled with an
o
not a
u.
”

“Close enough.”

“And he was an anti-hero.”

“A hero,” the man corrected.

“He was consumed with revenge.”

He tilted his head to the side and flashed a slow smile. “Do you have something against vengeance?”

Mary stopped, feeling her mouth go dry. This man was dangerous. He made vengeance sound tempting and could probably make other bad things sound tempting, too. And his smile could convince a fish to live on dry land. Mary folded her arms as though that could offer a shield against his charms. “I think it’s wrong.”

His gaze dipped to her folded arms, then back to her face. “That depends on how it’s done,” he said softly.

She couldn’t breathe. She’d never been claustrophobic, but suddenly the elevator felt too small. Who was this man? He’d seemed so ordinary before, but not now. Especially when he talked about vengeance. He had the eyes for it. She pitied anyone who crossed him. He seemed a man of his word. Not wishy-washy like her boss or her boyfriend, Curtis, who’d been promising to marry her for the past eight years. No, he was no ordinary man and she’d somehow caught his full attention and couldn’t redirect it. She glanced to see what floor they were on and sighed with relief. The ground floor would arrive soon.

“Well?” the man said.

She shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable under his gaze. Men rarely looked at her with such intensity. Even in high school and college she’d only caught a boy’s interest when he wanted to copy her notes from class. “I don’t think vengeance helps anyone.”

He leaned toward her in disbelief. “Really?”

She could only nod, scared that if she moved she’d touch him and like it.

“So you’ve never wanted revenge?”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” she admitted. “But I’d never do it,” she added when he began to smile. She didn’t trust his smile. It was too knowing. She shook her head.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. A young man started to come in, then someone called his name. He held the doors open while he chatted with a young woman.

“I don’t usually find conversations with strangers amusing,” Mary said.

“Then how do you make friends?”

Mary opened her mouth to reply, but the tall stranger held up a hand, then said in an ominous tone, “Are you coming in or not?”

The young man spun around so quickly he lost his balance and stumbled out of the elevator. He gave them a bewildered look as the door closed. “Good decision.”

Mary covered her mouth to hide a giggle, remembering the young man’s face. “You frightened him.” She quickly adjusted her features, determined to give him a sound scolding. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“No,” he said, but didn’t appear sorry. The elevator stopped on another floor. A young woman entered and smiled, giving the stranger an inviting glance. He smiled back. Mary stared down at her shoes, ready to disappear.

“Now about Edmund,” he said.

Mary glanced up, surprised. “We’re back to him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked, flattered that he still wished to talk to her but also confused. Mary caught the look of the other woman, which said
“you lucky girl.”
She felt her pulse quicken.

“I’m curious why you don’t like him.”

She sighed, feeling foolish. “I shouldn’t really. It’s not his fault that he ruined things for me.”

The man looked alarmed. “Ruined what things?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. The damage is done. I dislike the man and I haven’t even met him, which isn’t fair. He’s probably an overworked, underfunded project manager with a bald spot and a lisp.”

“Why a lisp?”

“I think lisps are endearing.” She shook her head. “Wait. That would be Gregory. I’m not working with Edmund directly. Edmund is probably a chain-smoking workaholic who develops ulcers.”

“Oh.” The stranger’s expression changed. He looked so distraught—as though he were a child told that his birthday would never come—she liked him even more. Someone was genuinely on her side. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“Perhaps if you told him what he’s done he could—”

“No, he’s not the type to care about anyone but himself.”

“How do you know that?”

“Men who make demands like that rarely care who gets in their way. He’s probably extraordinarily rich and extraordinarily busy. What’s going on in my life won’t mean anything to him. Fortunately, I don’t have to meet him. I’ll handle it.” The stranger looked ready to argue, but thankfully they reached the ground floor and Mary dashed out. He followed her.

“How are you going to handle it?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but the words came out as a demand.

“I don’t know. Somehow.” Mary walked outside and squinted at the bright sunlight. The stranger put on his sunglasses. “I’m not really worried about me, it’s Mrs. McQueeth.”

“Who?”

“My neighbor. She needs quality care and I was going to—” She stopped. “It’s eerie.”

“What?”

“How easy you are to talk to. I don’t know how you do it, but I find myself telling you things I should keep to myself.”

“Why should you keep them to yourself?”

“Because I don’t know you. I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“Why not? You looked like someone who needed to vent. Don’t you feel better?”

Mary thought for a moment. Oddly, yes. The heavy feeling weighing on her heart had lifted. He hadn’t pitied or patronized her. He felt her pain but didn’t blow it out of proportion or ignore it. He was a nice man—no matter how cold his eyes looked. She smiled at him. “Yes, I do. See? I didn’t even need revenge.”

“Hmm. Let’s hope you remember that.”

Mary held out her hand because she knew she had to say goodbye, but she didn’t want to. She noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but it didn’t matter because she had Curtis and she was happy with him. And even if she had been single, just because he was nice to her didn’t mean he’d ever think of her as a romantic possibility. When he clasped her hand in his she nearly melted but managed to keep her voice steady when she spoke. “Thank you for listening. I hope you have a lucky day.”

“You, too.”

“Thanks.” She took a step back and her heel got caught in a grate and snapped off. “Oh, damn.”

He rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She bent to retrieve the broken heel, desperate to create distance between them. “I suppose I have no right to offer people luck when I have none of my own.”

He took the heel from her. “Give me your shoe,” he said as he opened his briefcase.

Curious, Mary handed him her shoe and watched in amazement as he superglued her heel back on. “You’ve done this before,” she said.

He tugged on the heel to make sure it was solid, then knelt down and slipped the shoe on her foot. For a moment his hand cradled her ankle and the soft caress of his fingers made her skin tingle; then he stood and snapped his briefcase closed. “I can promise you one thing, Mary. Your luck is about to change.”

Mary began to reply to his odd statement, but he suddenly turned and walked away.

Mary started to call out to him, then stopped, disappointed she hadn’t discovered his name. It didn’t matter. She’d never see him again.

Surprisingly, the stranger in the elevator had made her feel better. He’d said her luck would change, and for some unknown reason she believed him. She could believe anything he said. He seemed like an honest man. Now in good spirits, Mary treated herself to a long lunch and walked around an open-air farmer’s market. She returned to her office renewed. But the feeling didn’t last long. The moment she entered the office the wave of pity that met her nearly drowned her. “I’m so sorry,” people said when they saw her. “Good ole Mary,” they whispered. “Such a good sport, so understanding.” By five o’clock, she nearly broke into a sprint in her determination to leave. She just wanted to lock herself in her apartment. Curtis would be there, and together they would talk about how much she deserved the promotion, just as they had every year. Except, when she returned to her apartment that evening, Curtis and most of her things were gone.

A
t first Mary thought she’d been robbed. A gang of thieves must have broken into her seventh-floor apartment and stolen all the furniture. But then burglars didn’t usually leave yellow Post-it notes behind. She dashed over to the counter and yanked off the note. It read:
Don’t freak. I just took what was mine. Curtis

Mary read the note three times before it registered. He’d left her and taken everything with him. He’d just “taken what was his.” She crumpled up the note and looked around the bare apartment. Nearly everything was gone. Her mother was going to love hearing what had happened. She’d warned Mary not to depend on, much less trust, a man. “He’s good-looking and rich,” she used to say. “He doesn’t need you and can leave at any time.”

Kate Reyland knew from experience. Her marriage of twenty years fell apart after her husband fell in love with another woman. Another woman who looked very similar to her but was ten pounds heavier.

How long had Curtis been planning this? She hadn’t had a clue that anything was wrong. There weren’t long nights at the office, strange phone calls or lipstick on his shirts. Nothing to give her a hint. He’d even wished her good luck that morning. She hadn’t realized he was saying goodbye. Mary glanced at the cage in the corner. At least he’d left her pet iguana, Cammie. The two had never gotten along. Curtis hadn’t liked all the care Mary had had to give her pet and preferred to keep Cammie in the cage even though she loved to roam.

Mary took her out and set her down. “Now you can run around in the day as well as at night. Curtis is gone.” The words hit her like an anvil. She crumpled to the floor and stared up at the ceiling. She’d lost it all. She’d lost her promotion, her boyfriend and nearly all of her belongings—all in one day. Cammie crawled up on her stomach and Mary stroked her. “It’s just you and me now. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

At that moment, the phone rang.

She didn’t move at first, then imagined all the people who could be calling and their possible reasons. She thought of Mrs. McQueeth. Perhaps she was trying to reach her because she needed something. Mary set Cammie down, then raced to the phone. Dianne’s cheery voice came over the line.

“I just got promoted,” she said.

Mary fell against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. “Oh?” she said in a neutral tone, wondering if Dianne could hear the echo in the background.

Dianne’s voice changed to regret and sorrow, like an actor remembering what emotions to play in a scene. “I feel
so
bad. It should have been you.”

Mary waited, hoping Dianne would take the hint and hang up. She didn’t.

“I agonized all day about what I should do. When James called me into his office, at first I was going to tell him what I really thought of him, then he offered me the promotion and I was shocked. Stunned. Absolutely
stunned.
We both know you deserve it, but…since you didn’t get it I thought it’s an opportunity I can’t let go. You’re not mad at me are you?”

Does it matter?
“I’d better go.”

“Mary, tell me you’re not mad, please. I’d feel just awful if I thought you were mad at me. I mean, you do understand that it’s a great opportunity and I may not get another one, but I’d hate to know you were mad.”

Mary gripped the phone. “I’m not mad.”

“Oh, good. That makes me feel so much better. Now—”

“I really have to go.” She watched Cammie slowly crawl across the empty floor. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thanks, Mary, that means a lot to me.”

“Right.” Mary hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She drew her knees to her chest. “I’m not going to feel sorry for myself. At least I have my health and I can get new furniture. Things will work out. I’ll finally be able to decorate this place the way I want to.” Curtis had never let her decide on anything.

Mary thought for a moment. She could still celebrate. She was starting anew. This was the beginning of her new life. The stranger in the elevator had said her luck would change. With renewed confidence Mary got up and went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She gasped, her heart twisting with pain. There were leftovers from last night’s dinner, vegetables and various juices, but the champagne was gone. That’s when Mary burst into tears.

“So did you get her?” Gregory Trent asked Edmund when Edmund visited him at his office.

Edmund sent him a stern look and sat at his desk. With his frequent visits to Gregory’s office, both had decided he needed one. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Right. Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. I knew you would. This is perfect. Now we’re all set.” He rubbed his hands together. “No one will interfere with how I do things.”

Edmund sat back in his chair unable to share his friend’s enthusiasm. He had left Richardson’s office pleased, only to return moments later annoyed after having run in to Mary in the elevator. He couldn’t erase that meeting from his mind, and remembered it now.

“You forgot to tell me something,” he’d said to Richardson as he settled into a chair.

Richardson had looked up at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us. I had an interesting conversation with Mary Reyland a few moments ago, and she accused me of ruining things for her.”

Richardson widened his eyes. “She said that to your face? That doesn’t sound like her.”

“She didn’t say it to me directly,” Edmund said impatiently. “But she was referring to me. She didn’t know it was me she was talking about.”

“Oh.”

“So how have I ruined things for her?”

Richardson sighed. “She was up for a promotion.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t give her the promotion because you wanted her to manage your project.”

Edmund pounded the arm of his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t let me—”

“That would have changed things.”

“I tried to tell you, but—”

Edmund pushed himself up from the chair and stood at the window. “We could have come up with an arrangement.” He looked directly at Richardson. “You really should learn to speak up more.”

“But I—”

“Fortunately, this can be fixed.” Edmund returned to his seat. “You can give her the promotion after she finishes my project.”

Richardson stared at him, speechless.

“What’s wrong now?”

“I can’t.”

Edmund narrowed his gaze. “Can’t or won’t?”

Richardson squirmed in his seat. “It’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“I already gave it to another employee, Dianne Sallis.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s the next in line.”

“Couldn’t you have waited?”

“I had to make a decision today or I would have lost the funding for that position.” Richardson shrugged helplessly. “What’s done is done. Mary won’t be upset.”

Edmund frowned and then stood. “She looked upset to me.”

“She’ll get over it. She always does.”

He stopped at the door. “What do you mean she
always
does?” he asked without looking back.

Richardson cleared his throat. “Well, she’s sort of been waiting for this.”

Edmund slowly turned around. “How long?”

Richardson lowered his gaze and mumbled something.

“Speak up.”

“I said five years.”

“Five years?”

Richardson nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would never have done this if I’d known. The poor, little thing.”

Richardson stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, Mary’s not exactly little.”

“She’s little to me,” he replied in a quiet voice that had dared Richardson to argue.

Richardson quickly nodded in agreement, but looked as though he’d just stepped into dog mess.

“You should have stood up for her.”

“Against you?” he sputtered.

“Against anyone who would hurt her.”

Richardson shook his head, confused. “You’ve got Mary all wrong. She’s a real trooper. You should have seen her in my office. She was fine. Not a tear or a frown. No emotion at all. She took the news the way she always does—like a professional.”

But Edmund knew Richardson was wrong. The woman he met on the elevator had looked near tears and he was the reason.

Edmund now looked at Gregory and drummed his fingers on his desk. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, and somehow he knew he’d need to make sure she’d get what she wanted. But the thought still didn’t make things right. He hadn’t meant for Mary to lose her promotion. However, he’d make it up to her. He had to. Once she finished his project, he’d make sure she’d get her promotion.

But Mary’s unfortunate situation didn’t bother him the most. What bothered him more was her description of him. Or rather her invisible Edmund—the chain-smoking workaholic who didn’t care about others. Number one, he didn’t smoke. He’d tried in high school and had been so sick he’d never tried again. Number two, yes, he liked to work, but within reason. Okay, so he did put in more hours than most people but only because he wanted to. Number three, he
did
care about people. He wasn’t in the habit of running over people to get his own way; he preferred to use the word
persuasive.
And he could be
very
persuasive.

Besides, after the horrendous experience with the previous supervisor, they needed someone totally different. He knew that Gregory would be able to handle Mary. Edmund was pleased to have gotten a chance to talk to her. She would be very easy to manipulate…no, to work with. He’d made the right decision. Gregory didn’t need any hassles.

The newly designed senior community Gregory and he had envisioned was his life—his heart, if he were to be completely honest—and he wanted it to work. There were a lot of people ready to see them fail, but Edmund couldn’t afford to. He’d lose almost everything if he did.

“Oh, by the way,” Gregory said with a slight smile, “Wanda called. She said she couldn’t reach you.”

Edmund stared at him. “I thought I broke up with her.”

“No, you were going to do that today.”

He softly swore. Instead of calling her, he’d gone back to Richardson’s office. “I forgot.”

“That’s not like you.”

No, it wasn’t, but the incident with Mary had distracted him. He wouldn’t let that happen again. “I guess I’ll have to do that tomorrow.” He frowned. “Did she say why she called?”

“No, only that she wanted you to call her back.”

Edmund glanced at his watch, then lifted the phone; Wanda picked up on the third ring. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Edmund. We need to talk.”

He hated those words; they were never good. “Fine. Tomorrow. I’ll reserve a table at the—”

“No, we need to talk today.”

“Fine. Talk.”

“Can you come over after work?”

“Sure.” He hung up.

Gregory looked at him expectantly. “What did she want?”

“She wants to talk to me.”

Gregory gave a low whistle. “That can’t be good.”

Four hours later, Edmund found out how bad it was as he sat in Wanda’s apartment while she tearfully told him that she’d fallen in love with someone else. He didn’t think it was a good time to burst into laughter. He’d been trying to figure out a nice way to break up with her for the past three weeks.

He patted her hand. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“That’s all right. It wasn’t working between us anyway.” It had been a disaster. He’d met her at a charity function and had initially found her attractive and entertaining, but she had soon made him regret giving her his number. She’d called him all the time. At first he’d thought it was cute; then the calls had increased from every day to every few hours. She’d wanted to know what he was doing, where he was going and with whom. He soon felt he was being stalked and had started lying. Now he was free again. He struggled not to whoop with joy.

Her wet eyes immediately dried up. “You mean you don’t care?”

He stiffened. Dammit, he’d said the wrong thing but didn’t know what. He felt like he’d just fallen into a hole he’d dug himself. “I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s how you feel.”

“How can you know how I feel?”

She pulled her hand from his. “That’s the problem—I never did.” She rested a hand on his shoulder and shook her head in regret. “Edmund, you’re not normal.”

He drew back.
He
wasn’t normal? The woman who had three psychiatrists telling her the various ways to blame her parents for her separation issues was telling him
he
wasn’t normal? Perhaps she was right—what normal man would date a woman like her for six months? “Wait a minute.”

“It’s true. You don’t socialize, you spend all your time at that geriatric center or buying property. I don’t understand you.”

“I like my work.”

“You never introduced me to any of your family.”

“I don’t have family.”

“I thought you said you had a sister.”

“I did,” he said in a deceptively neutral voice.

“Where is she?”

He stretched his arms the length of the couch. “Doesn’t matter. What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The man you’re in love with.”

“Don’t change the subject. I hate when you do that.”

He stood. “So I guess that’s it.”

She darted in front of him. “No, that isn’t it. I want you to see someone.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You want to set me up with one of your friends?”

“No, I want you to go to a psychiatrist.”

He laughed.

“Edmund, this isn’t funny.”

He laughed even harder.

Wanda folded her arms and glared at him.

He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Take care of yourself.”

“Edmund, I only want to help you.”

He opened the door. “You did. You set me free.” He waved, then left.

Edmund knew he should have been heartbroken—no, insulted—but he was too busy thinking of his newly found freedom and the attention he could now give to his work. Anyway, he didn’t need any more women trouble. His relationships never lasted long. Wanda had been a diversion after a long dry spell. His relationship with her would sustain him over the next few months until he wanted a woman’s warm body in his bed again.