Sometimes It Is Rocket Science (10 page)

Robert’s heart leaped to his throat.  Ice coated his stomach and slithered down his spine.  “Tell me everything.  Don’t leave out a single detail.”  He fixed Doctor Flores with the glare that had helped him earn his reputation in the boardroom.  Most people crumbled under the weight of that glare.  The doctor was no exception.

“There is an increased concentration of nicotine.  Not enough to be fatal, but more than you would find in half a pack cigarettes, and definitely more than there should be for an occasional cigar smoker.  There is also an unusually elevated level of caffeine.  Those aren’t the disturbing parts, though.”  Doctor Flores glanced at the report in his hands.  “His blood also contains glyceryl trinitrate.”

“Nitroglycerin?”  Robert stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “Didn’t you give him that for the heart attack?”

“This is your father’s first myocardial infarction.  He has never been prescribed nitroglycerin.  I double-checked the paramedics’ trip sheet and made a follow-up phone call.  They did not give him any nitroglycerin.  The caffeine, nicotine, and nitro together are a dangerous combination, but it gets worse.”  The doctor’s hands fell to his sides.  He sucked in a bracing breath and met Robert’s icy eyes.  “There is gamma-hydroxybutyrate in his blood.”

The air left Robert’s lungs with a loud
whoosh
.  He blinked rapidly, tugged on his earlobe.  “The date rape drug?  Someone roofied my father?”  Fiery, violent anger flooded his system and drowned the fear.  Someone had poisoned his father.  Someone had almost
killed
his father.

“Do you know what your father was doing before the heart attack?  He mentioned a lunch meeting, but I need specifics so we can pinpoint when he ingested the drugs and hopefully clarify the situation.”

“You think he was drugged
?”
Robert demanded roughly.  “Don’t you mean
poisoned
?”

“Yes.  I wanted to speak to you before I contacted the police.”

“You’re damned right I’m going to find out where he was.”  Robert flung open the door and marched to his father’s side.  He snatched the television remote from Dan’s hands, shut off the news program, and tossed the remote onto the bed.  “Where were you before the heart attack, Dad?  Who were you with?”

“I had a lunch meeting with Walt Prask.”  Dan frowned.  He was unused to being on the receiving end of his son’s bastard businessman persona.  “We went to Elmridge, had steaks, and then had one of his cigars at the bar.  We talked about the upcoming Westalm project.” 

“And you didn’t stop anywhere on the way home?  Didn’t see anyone else?”

“No.  I was supposed to be at the office for a meeting, but I’d forgotten a folder, so I ran back to the house.  That’s where I had the heart attack.”  Dan was about to ask why he was being subjected to an interrogation, when another thought hit.  His nose wrinkled.  “I hope Prask doesn’t take Georgie to Elmridge.  She hates that place.”

Robert spine stiffened so suddenly he feared it would snap.  His eyes narrowed, the blood in his veins froze.  “Georgiana is having dinner with Prask?”

“Yes.  She didn’t want to, but she’s having problems with her board.  You know what that’s like, don’t you?” Dan teased, hoping to lighten the oppressive air in the room.

“Can NORA track Georgiana’s cell phone?”  Robert was already pulling his phone out of his pocket.  He mentally calculated how long it would take Allan to get from the house to the hospital and whether it would be quicker to call a cab. 

“Yes.  What’s going on, Robert?”

Robert sent a quick text to his chauffer before turning his attention back to his father.  He didn’t want to worry the older man, but he couldn’t lie to him, either.  He needed Dan to be alert.  “You were drugged, Dad.  Nicotine, caffeine, nitroglycerin, and GHB.  Someone wanted it to look like you died of a heart attack.”

“You think it was Prask.”

“He was the last person you were with; it’s the only logical explanation.”  Robert dialed the number for his father’s house, prayed NORA complied with his request.  “And now Georgiana’s having dinner with him.”

Her dinner companion’s voice relegated to background noise, Georgiana leaned closer to the small, round crystal oil lamp. There was no discernible odor.  Chewing the gloss off her bottom lip, she sat back in her chair.  Olive oil, presumably.  It was early enough in the evening that the lamp had been refilled before the dinner rush.  Calculating the approximate volume of the lamp only took a few seconds.  Estimating burn time for the entire container took an additional minute.

“More wine, Georgiana?”

Startled out of her equation, Georgiana glanced at her half-full wine glass and shook her head.  She sipped the dark red Argentine Malbec, surprised to find it softer and plusher than she’d anticipated.  It was considerably less dry than Prask’s conversation.

“That is a lovely dress,” Prask commented, lips quirking over the rim of his glass.

She shifted uncomfortably under his sharp stare and fought the urge to tug on the dress’s neckline.  Two of Prask’s ex-wives had graduated from high school the same year as Georgiana and Prask’s daughter Claire.  Claire was the only childhood friend, aside from Robert, Georgiana kept in regular contact with.  She knew how angry Prask’s last three marriages had made his daughter.

“Thank you, but credit should go to Claire.  It is one of her designs.”

“Claire?  My Claire?”

Georgiana took another sip of wine to hide a smile.  The slight flare of panic in his eyes was gratifying.  A man like Prask didn’t like to be reminded of his age.  Her new goal was to do everything she could to highlight their age difference.  “Yes, your Claire.  We went to school together, remember?  She sends samples and gifts every now and then.”

Prask drained his wine glass.   He licked his lips.  His keen gaze turned cool, calculating.  “How is your brother?  Is he enjoying school?”  He set his glass on the table.  “I imagine he’s racking up the miles on that Mercedes coming home every weekend.”

Slivers of ice trickled down Georgiana’s spine.  She forced herself to keep her head high.  Prask was a creep, but he was also an expert at ferreting out and exploiting the slightest weakness.  “Yeah,” she said, voice high and thin, “Tab’s fine.”

“Who is his roommate?  Several of my associates have sons at the school and…’

“He’s in a single room.”  It wasn’t a complete lie.  Before the accident, Tab had been assigned to one of the single suites in the school’s newest dormitory building.  She needed to distract him, though, before the conversation about her brother could continue any further.  “I heard a rumor that you were quite the wild one at school.  There was this one story involving a group of boys, grape Kool-Aid, and the fountain, but I can’t remember how it goes…”

Prask started in on a not-at-all humorous anecdote from his days at Tab’s former prep school.  Georgiana’s mind wandered.  She’d watched the kitchen and the servers and had come up with the average time delay between orders being placed and food being served.  If her math was right, and it always was, she had to endure another ten minutes of inane conversation before Prask would be too busy stuffing his mouth to talk.

She wrapped her fingers around the delicate stem of the wine glass.  The ruby liquid, and the numbness it provided, was tempting.  She didn’t want to have to think about her brother’s depression, the company, or Robert Norwood.  She resisted the temptation.  On an empty stomach, a glass of wine would have her saying something she’d eventually regret.

Georgiana felt the curious eyes boring into her back.  The next morning’s coffee shops and restaurants would be filled with gossip about her dinner with Prask.  Speculation would range from a potential business alliance to her goal to be the next Mrs. Prask.  Either option made bile rise in the back of her throat.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” a familiar, unexpected voice murmured in her ear. 

Georgiana’s head reared back.  She blinked several times to try and clear her vision, but the sight of Robert Norwood settling into the chair between Prask and her didn’t go away.  Judging by Prask’s gaping maw, he was just as stunned by Robert’s appearance.

Robert snagged Georgiana’s wine glass from her lax grasp and took a small taste.  “A fine Malbec.  Tannins are balanced perfectly.  It is from Argentina, am I right?”  Without waiting for a response, he set the glass on the table and signaled over his shoulder for the sommelier.  “Lovely wine, but hardly something you’d drink for a celebration.”

“What are we celebrating?”  Prask’s voice was mild but his eyes were flinty.  His meaty fists balled up the excess white tablecloth on his end of the table. 

“The weather.  Dinner with a stunning woman, with a
very
stunning woman.”  Dark eyes scorched Georgiana’s skin before turning to Prask.  “My father’s good health.  He’ll be home from the hospital early next week.  Completely recovered, the doctor says.”

“That’s fantastic!”  Relieved, Georgiana rested her hand on Robert’s forearm and shifted so she was facing him.  Heat flooded her when her bare knees brushed against his thigh.  “That is an excellent reason to celebrate.”

“Yes, yes,” Prask said, releasing the tablecloth.  He smoothed the wrinkles but continued to scowl at Robert.  “It is good news.”

“Now, we have a wonderful rosé prestige cuvée, perfect for toasting.”  Robert waited until the sommelier had gone through the ceremony of opening the bottle and pouring it into three flutes.  He held his glass up.  “Though the cause of my father’s recent illness is under investigation, he has made a full recovery.  Thank God for that.”

Georgiana’s hand fell to the table.  “They don’t know the cause?  I thought it was a heart attack.”

Prask
clinked
his glass against Robert’s hard enough Georgiana feared for the crystal.  His thin lips curled back in half-sneer.  “I hear congratulations are in order for you, Robert.  Never thought I’d see the day someone managed to drag you to the altar.”

Robert’s sly smile and subtle wink were the only warning Georgiana had before his hand covered hers.  “Yes, Georgiana and I are very happy.”

She swallowed her champagne before she could choke on it.  She tried to tug her hand out from under Robert’s.  What game was he playing?  He was engaged to Tammy, not her!  It was all well and good for him to play games when he could scamper back to New York, but she had to live with the fallout of whatever it was he had planned.

“Bobby…”

His lips were warm and light across her cheek.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I know you wanted to keep it a secret, but I just can’t keep it to myself.”

Had her parents not raised her better, she would have tossed her champagne in his face or demanded to know what he was talking about.   She was going to have a hell of a time doing damage control as it was.  Veronica Danvers and Missy Galvan were seated right behind Prask; the two sets of loosest lips in Houston had undoubtedly heard Robert’s announcement. 

“Georgiana,” Prask touched the rim of glass to Georgiana’s.  “I must say this is a surprise.”

She forced her lips to stretch up into a weak smile.  “Yes, it is.”  She let out a small squeak when Robert’s large hand rested on her knee.  She dropped a hand to her lap and squeezed his warningly.  Being in a public place wouldn’t stop her from slapping that smirk off his face if he pushed her too far.

Robert continued to grin like he hadn’t a worry in the world.  He refilled Georgiana’s glass and topped off Prask’s.  Neither noticed that he hadn’t taken more than a sip from his glass.

“I know it’s sudden, but I took one look at her and knew I couldn’t let her go again.”  Robert’s heated, devoted stare sent Georgiana’s heart into overdrive.  He kissed her cheek again.  “I couldn’t risk anyone else snapping her out from under me.”

She eyed the fork speculatively.  It was heavy and the tines were wide.  If she jabbed him the fleshy part of the hand between the thumb and forefinger, it was possible she could incapacitate him without getting blood on her dress or doing any irreparable damage to the restaurant.  She tilted her head towards him and lowered her voice so Prask couldn’t hear. 

“You make me sound like a piece of art, Bobby.”

He chuckled in her ear.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  Blame it on the dress.”

Prask cleared his throat loudly.  His face had lost the red tinge of outrage, but his glare was still firmly in place.  “This must make your board very happy.”  He raised bushy, white eyebrows.  “Both boards, I suppose.”

Robert waved his free hand dismissively.  “They could strenuously object and it wouldn’t change a thing.  Business can’t stand in the way of love.”  He winked at Georgiana, knowing she would remember how Prask had lost an entire division of his company in an early divorce settlement.  “You know how that goes, don’t you Prask?”

Before the older man could splutter out an objection, Robert rose from his chair and, with a hand under her elbow, helped Georgiana to her feet.  “I apologize for cutting this dinner short, but Georgiana forgot about our meeting with the cardiologist and it was left to me to retrieve her.  Do not worry about the bill; I’ve instructed my driver to take care of it.”  He inclined his head towards the burly, blond man standing near the doors. 

Georgiana managed to grab her clutch before she was dragged out of the restaurant like an unruly child.  She hoped Dan would forgive her for killing his only child, because as soon as they were away from prying eyes she was going to absolutely
murder
Robert.  The hand around her elbow tightened when she tried to squirm out of his grasp.

“Smile, doll,” he murmured, lips against her hair.  “Don’t want them to think you’re going to jilt me.”

“Oh no,” she said through clenched teeth and a plastic smile, “I think I’d much rather be labeled a black widow.”

Robert didn’t release her until the valet returned with her car. “We need to talk about Dad.  Would you feel more comfortable at his house or yours?”

“His, definitely.  I don’t want Tab to have to testify against me.”  She tipped the handsome, young valet and flung herself into the leather seat.  At Robert’s wolf whistle, she tugged the hem of her skirt over her knees.  Once he was buckled in his seat, she peeled out of the parking lot.

“Did you eat anything?  Drink anything besides the champagne?”

Georgiana frowned, flicked on her turn signal.  “Just a half a glass of the Malbec, I suppose.  We had just placed our orders.”  Her stomach rumbled at the thought of the meal of baked salmon, rice pilaf, and grilled asparagus she’d abandoned.  Even worse, she’d missed out on a slice of the restaurant’s divine chocolate cheesecake.

“Did you take anything from Prask?  A mint or a piece of gum?  Were there flowers?  Did you leave the table at all?”  Robert gripped the edge of the center console so hard his knuckles turned white.  His rich imagination kept coming up with ways Prask could have gotten to Georgiana.  If the doctor’s tests had been delayed, Prask could have killed her before they knew to be wary.

“No.  To any of them.  He ordered the wine, we ordered our food, and you barged in.”  She pressed her toes against the accelerator and, with the steel nerves that came from a lifetime of Houston traffic, entered the freeway only to immediately cross five lanes to make her upcoming left exit.  “What was that little show in there about?  You know it’s going to be all over town by the morning.”

“Afraid of a little gossip, Georgiana?”

“No.”  She tapped the brake when the F-150 in front of her slowed unexpectedly.  “I just don’t want to wake up to find Blondie boiling bunnies in my kitchen.”

“Tammy and I are not engaged.”  It felt good to say what he’d been trying to tell Georgiana for days.  Every time he’d tried to bring up Tammy, she’d either changed the subject or manufactured a reason to be elsewhere.

“Neither are you and I.  You seem to be
not
engaged to quite a few people.”

Robert stabbed the button for the overhead map light.  Ignoring Georgiana’s grumbled protest, he moved as close as the center console allowed to examine his faux-fiancée.  Her eyes were red, but no more bloodshot than they’d been since he returned to town.  She wasn’t shaking or jittery and anger had tinged her cheeks pink.  He wasn’t ready to give her a clean bill of health, though.  As soon as they got to the house, he was going to have NORA perform a cursory urinalysis. 

“How do you feel, Georgiana?  Is your heartbeat regular?  Any trouble breathing?  Dry mouth?  Sweating?  Tingling?  Numbness?  Blurred vision?”

“I’m fine.”  She tore her eyes off the road long enough to shoot him an exasperated glare.  “Madder than hell at you and confused, but I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t lie, would you?”  Voice hard and eyes serious, he rested a hand on her thigh.  “This is of the utmost importance, doll.  I need to know if you feel the slightest bit ill or off.”

“Okay,” she drawled, flipping on her turn signal and zipping onto the exit ramp. “I’m officially a little concerned now.  What’s going on, Bobby?  Does this have to do with what’s wrong with your father?”

“Yes.  We will talk about it at the house.”  Robert slid back in his seat, tapped his fingers against the window.  “I don’t want you alone with Prask for any reason.  Don’t take anything he gives you, either.”

“Ha!”  She parked the car in front of Dan’s gate and rolled down her window so she could reach the biometric scanners.  “Despite what half of Houston now believes, we are not engaged.  You don’t get to play caveman.”