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  “I’ll have David fill in. He’s capable. You’ve seen to it.”

  David was her number two. He was a good choice, and he would have been running things during her honeymoon, anyway. Julien was right, but that didn’t mean she liked his decision. “How long am I exiled for?”

  “Until you have a new product. Two days? Three weeks? Six months?”

  The shockwave of fear edged away, replaced by pragmatic reality. “It’s not possible for me to stay away from the office, my life, my friends, my parents for that long.”

  “Then I suggest you work fast.” As if unconcerned, he picked up his bruised apple and took a bite.

  Her stomach had turned inside out, and he was eating? “Do we have a corporate house or apartment there?” Bonds had interests all over the planet, they owned a number of properties that senior executives or engineers could stay in while traveling. The places made extended stays away from home marginally more pleasant, and employees weren’t at the mercy of hotel availability.

  “No. When I go to New Mexico, I stay with Grant.”

  This was getting worse and worse. “You’re suggesting I move into a cave with him?”

  “It’s a very nice—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “More of a mountain retreat,” he finished. “You’ll like it.”

  At some point, she expected Julien to crack one of his infamous grins and declare he’d only been having fun. A lot of it, at her expense.

  Instead, he continued, “There are hotels nearby, but they’re impractical for long-term use. You’d have quite a drive every day. But of course, if that’s your preference, we’ll make the arrangements.” He stood and walked past her.

  His knit polo shirt with its embroidered Bonds logo had made her believe he was dressed in casual business attire. In reality, that was illusion. He wore baggy basketball shorts that hung down to his calves. He’d completed the look with gray athletic socks and orange tennis shoes. “Quite the outfit.”

  “Everyone’s a fashion critic. Most people have the courtesy to take a hint and leave before I have to kick them out.”

  “You’re kicking me out?”

  He continued through the office and pressed the elevator call button. “You have a thousand details to see to, informing David of the new plan, meeting with your team, packing, paying bills, talking to your parents. I’m not sure how you’ll get it done in the next couple of hours, but you’re resourceful, and you’ll figure it out. You can sleep on the plane tomorrow.”

  “With Svetlana flying it?”

  “She hasn’t nicked any mountains.” He cocked his head. “Well, not recently, anyway. And it’s been ages since she crashed an aircraft. Years, I’m sure. And the Tornado is spectacular. It can practically fly itself.”

  Aria realized he was trying to ease her mind with the casual banter that defined their relationship. Until now, he’d been the one to help her sort out reality, not distort it. “I’m trying to understand. Am I allowed to be in contact with people?”

  “Don’t make this complicated, Aria. You’re a valuable asset to Bonds and to me personally. It would be catastrophically stupid of me to prohibit you from talking to them. But limit your exposure. I want you focused on your new project.”

  “I apologize for the wedding fiasco.”

  “The non-wedding fiasco,” he corrected her. After giving her a smile that didn’t help mitigate her angst, he added, “Rise to the new-product challenge, and accept this time away from California as the gift it’s meant to be.”

  “I don’t know anything about product development.”

  “You know more than you think you do.”

  “This feels more like a prison sentence,” she admitted.

  He gave her an unholy grin. “Marriage to Simon would have been a life sentence.”

  The elevator arrived. “Are you telling me you think it wouldn’t have worked?”

  “You’re a smart woman.”

  “So why—”

  “He was a wuss. A wimp. He wore tweed jackets with leather patches at the elbows.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “You need someone you can’t push around.”

  “What?”

  “You chew through weak men as if they’re candy, then you complain when you get a toothache.”

  Her stomach plummeted. No one knew that about her. What the hell had she ever done that made Julien think she needed someone strong?

  “Grant is man enough to handle you. Now go.”

  The longer she stayed, the more false hope she’d fill herself with. Despite his reassurances, she felt as if she were being fired.

  Focusing on sorting her million priorities, she entered the car then pushed the button to take her to the lobby.

  “Aria?”

  Was he offering a reprieve? She shoved out her arm to prevent the doors from closing. “What?”

  “It’s really fucking cold there. Take boots!”

  Scowling at him, she allowed the door to close. As the elevator descended, she could have sworn she heard him add, “You know, those sexy ones that make men forget their names!”

  * * * *

  “Are we settled then?”

  “What?” Jolted into awareness, Grant Kingston looked up from his computer monitor. Two minutes ago, the privacy of his workshop had been demolished by Julien’s interruption. The smooth jazz background music had faded out and every speaker in his house had blasted a synthesized symphonic piece that could have accompanied a movie. It had been followed by an announcement that a genius was trying to reach him. Most people used a phone or computer connection to talk to people, but not Julien. And as Grant had discovered, keeping out the government was easier than keeping out Julien.

  Julien had started their conversation with pleasantries, which, in retrospect, should have made Grant suspicious. Generally his friend made a blunt statement and waited for a response. This time, though, he’d told a story about one of his executives, about her broken engagement and how she needed to get away.

  And it wasn’t until Julien’s question that Grant figured out that it somehow applied to him. Dumbfounded, he asked, “You want her to come here?”

  “Putting together two of the smartest people in the company is a brilliant idea.”

  It sounded as if he’d rehearsed the comment.

  “I don’t run a bed-and-breakfast.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  “No fucking way.” Because he was a partner with Julien—one of his best friends—Grant tolerated a lot of crap. Generally though, he got more in return than he ever gave. But this…? Allowing someone into his home, his work space, his sanctuary? No. He barely tolerated Julien’s impromptu—but mercifully short—visits.

  The surround-sound speakers remained mute.

  He wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant Julien had accepted his response. “There’s a reason I live near Los Alamos. Send your runaway bride somewhere else.”

  Julien’s laughter filtered through the room. “Aria would chew off your balls for that description.”

  “You’re not just interrupting my work, you’re starting to piss me off.”

  “What time is it there?”

  “How the hell would I know?” He looked out of a window and saw nothing except the reflection of the room. “Somewhere between dusk and dawn.” Grant wasn’t quite sure when that had happened. It’d been light the last time he looked.

  A spasm rendered his neck immovable. He winced. But rather than waiting for it to pass, he pressed two fingers to the muscle—or was it a tendon?—and massaged it.

  “It’s after one a.m. in New Mexico,” Julien said.

  Was it? He looked at the time icon on the bottom of his screen. He’d been up since five this morning. No wonder his muscles were starting to freeze. “And?”

  “I took a guess that you’d still be working.”

  “Tough shit if I had been trying to sleep,” Grant remarked.

  Julien didn’t interrupt often. Most times,
when he did, it was with good reason.

  The two had met when they’d shared student housing at UT Austin. Like most of their buddies, they’d had a shared interest in coeds and parties, but their friendship went deeper. Over beers and games of pool, he and Julien had discussed ideas, products, ways to change the world.

  They’d challenged each other’s assumptions and beliefs. When Grant had an idea, Julien would ask a million questions. The result he’d end up with would be different—better—than where he’d started from.

  Continuing the alliance after graduation had been natural.

  If Julien was the visionary behind Bonds, Grant was its engineer. He’d drawn little salary in the early days, and he’d worked tirelessly to make Julien’s visions a reality—still did. Not that the man needed much help. By all rights, he was a damn genius. But he needed a friend he trusted implicitly, who gnawed on a problem until it was solved.

  “As I was saying—”

  “Christ,” Grant interrupted. “You didn’t go away yet?”

  “Pay attention,” Julien said.

  “I think I told you to fuck off. If I didn’t, let me repeat. Fuck off. Send her somewhere else. She’s not coming here.”

  As if Grant had never spoken, Julien continued, “Svetlana will have her there by about ten, maybe eleven. Make yourself presentable.”

  “Svetlana?” He felt a stupid grin forming on his face. His relationship with the sexy Russian ex-spy was hot and simple.

  She had some interesting sexual demands, and he was happy to indulge every single one of them.

  Theirs was an unusual friendship, defined by a unique code. They played with each other as long as neither of them was involved with someone else—no attachments, no emotion, no mess. It suited them both.

  “Sorry, Grant. This is a touch-and-go.”

  Meaning Svetlana was delivering her passenger and leaving right away. His smile faded. He always loved having her at his mercy, on her knees.

  “You’ll get the chance to say hello when you meet Aria.”

  “I believe I told you no fucking way.”

  “You have a vehicle. Something big and mean, if I remember.”

  “Yeah.” Tricked out with the latest gadgets, some of which didn’t work exactly as hoped yet. “But I don’t have time for company. Sorry.”

  “And I said that’s not an option.” Julien’s voice was very quiet, uncompromising.

  Grant dragged his hand across his face and got stubble burn. How long had it been since he’d shaved?

  “I’m shutting down the hologram project.”

  He stared up at a speaker for long moments. Silence echoed back. Obviously Julien was waiting for his words to register.

  Slowly at first, then bigger and faster, the ripples went through him. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Video on.”

  One entire wall had been filled with a soothing picture of his alma mater, the University of Texas at Austin. With barely a ripple, it flickered out and was replaced by an image of Julien holding a bottle of water, seated on a couch in his Cupertino office. As exhausted as Grant suddenly felt, Julien looked worse.

  “You’re working too hard.” Julien’s jaw was set in firm resolution.

  Grant had seen that kind of intensity directed at others, but never at him.

  “I mentioned that to you when we were at Reece’s bachelor party,” Julien continued. “I’d hoped Mexico would give you a break, encourage you to take a few days off. We waited for you at breakfast the last day, but Svetlana told me she’d flown you home the night before. We thought you were sleeping off a hangover. You were back at work.”

  “You’re getting what you pay for,” Grant said. Which was a seven-figure income plus an ownership percentage that was worth more every year.

  “Not even close.”

  He blinked. “What the fuck?”

  “I’m paying for the best of you, and I’m getting the dregs.”

  “That’s a fucking unfair assessment, even from you.”

  “Is it?” Julien slid the water bottle onto the table in front of him. Other than that, he didn’t react. “I need you to be fresh, creative, energized—an engineer who’s aware of the world around him. I’m getting someone overworked, overextended, who doesn’t know what day of the week it is.”

  “I do.”

  Julien waited.

  “Thursday?”

  “On the other side of the International Date Line, maybe.” He recapped his bottle. “I tried to give you a vacation. In Mexico. With Svetlana. You wouldn’t take it.”

  “We only have a few months before—”

  “You’re done.”

  Jesus. As if the tectonic plates had shifted, Grant reached for a table to hang onto. “You said we need something splashy for the show.”

  “And we’ll have it.”

  Julien was giving him a fucking headache.

  “We have more than one team working on production, so I’m not worried about it. But you and Aria are going to be going to the spring show. And you, Grant, will be doing a presentation.”

  Cold sweat arrowed down his spine.

  “I will continue to do all the yearly debuts, but I need you to step it up. I need you, your help with store openings, some presentations overseas. This isn’t a surprise. The logical time for you to step in is when we open the store at Kennedy’s State Street Plaza building.”

  “We’ve discussed this before. Being in front of people, doing show-and-tell is not my forte.”

  “It needs to be. People want to see you, to meet you. And Aria is a great coach.”

  Grant tried again. “But the hologram—”

  “Will not be presented. Period.”

  He met his friend’s gaze. “You’re serious?”

  “Free up your brain. If ideas for the hologram come to you, you can work on it as inspiration strikes. But I want it to be fun for you. A diversion, not a deadline-driven monstrosity.”

  “We’ve invested months—”

  “You’re pushing a nut up a mountain with your nose.”

  He frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure,” Julien admitted. “Sounded better in my head before it came out my mouth.” He shrugged. “Bonds needs you—your creative energy—for the next fifty years. There’s a difference between working on something that ignites you and something you’re forcing.”

  “But now I have nothing to focus on.”

  “Representing Bonds is what you’re going to work on. You’ll be working with Aria. You’ll like her. Smart. Sassy.”

  “I work alone.”

  Julien laced his hands behind his neck. Now he had a big fucking grin on his face.

  The two had been friends long enough that Grant recognized Julien’s look. The man thought he was being brilliant, as if he alone could see the mysteries of the universe, the way things clicked together to keep the planets in orbit.

  “This should be interesting as she likes to be in charge, too.”

  Looking at his friend, Grant asked, “Does she know anything about me?”

  “I didn’t really have the words. So I figured I’d let you inform her.”

  “You’re a world-class bastard, Julien.”

  “Only do something if you’re going to be the best at it.” He unlaced his hands and leaned forward. “You’ll thank me later.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  “Listen, Grant. You need to get out a little. Talk to people. Interact.”

  “You been reading self-help books again?”

  “I never stopped.” More seriously, he continued, “I shouldn’t have let you live like a possum for years.”

  “Mole.” As if anyone could have stopped him. Knowing he was losing, desperate not to, Grant forced his fingers to uncurl from the desk. “No stress there.”

  “Different kind of stress. This is the good kind. It’ll fire you up.” Julien rubbed his hands together in front of his face. �
��Light up all your cylinders. Enjoy your visitor. I need you, Grant. More than ever. The world…nay, the universe”—Julien stretched his arms wide—“is yours to command.”

  “You really have lost your mind.” For the first time, he wondered. Since he hated California and loved seclusion, he spent little time with Julien. Even though the back of his home was carved into a mountainside, rumors of Julien’s odd behavior, weird eating habits and bizarre demands had reached him. He’d thought Julien cultivated that image to confound people. Now he wasn’t sure.

  “Keep Aria warm. She hates the snow.”

  Snow? Grant looked outside again. It was difficult to see with the flood of lights he had in his workshop, but at this time of year, it was conceivable that the white stuff was falling. “I’m starting to see your point. I’ll go back to Mexico with Svetlana.”

  “That ship has sailed.”

  “Meaning I had my chance?”

  “Meaning she’s met someone.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Someone better than me?”

  “Imagine that.”

  “He’s not scared of her?”

  “Terrified.”

  “Those legs.” Reputedly, she could break a man’s neck.

  “I’m not afraid to say I’m a bit careful around her myself,” Julien confessed.

  “That’s part of why you like her.”

  “I adore women who frighten me.” With a wave of his hand, as if it were a magic wand, Julien vanished.

  The sudden silence rang in Grant’s ears.

  Ten minutes ago, every area of his life had seemed secure. Now… Nothing.

  Svetlana had moved on. They’d only had an occasional, hot, mind-numbing, tongue-lolling hook-up. It was enough to sustain him for weeks. Months. And one time, even a year.

  Genuinely, he was happy for her. Everyone deserved someone. More than he, she yearned for something to complete her. He was lucky he’d been able to play with her as often as he had.

  But that, coupled with Julien’s pronouncement that Grant was off his pet project, cast him adrift for the first time since he’d left college. He’d always known what the next logical step was in his professional life. Suddenly he wasn’t even sure where the floor was.

  Now he was expected to take in one of Julien’s strays, work with her, disrupt his solitude and his life.