Chapter 9

“Alright, folks. Great presentations. We’re ready. No more planning. Track the itinerary; it’ll probably morph another million times.” Mr. Grainger smiled, scanning the crowded conference room. “Let’s get over there and change some minds.”

Even as Dan nodded along with the others, he was drawn to Natalie. With the clock ticking, they’d both been far too busy to speak. But she’d recovered from her date.

Again in a charcoal dress, she was surrounded by her usual trio. Eyes twinkling, she was locked on either the speaker or listening to one of the men beside her. She was ... Well, where a pretty young woman like her should be.

After trying to grin, he drifted back to his notes. Even once the boss had left, Dan remained engrossed, sitting at the conference table. While others departed, he reviewed the code for the hundredth time. Everything was ready. The algorithm was singing. In a week, they’d be in Berlin, listening to it perform.

“Hey, Dan.”

At Natalie’s voice, he jumped. Right behind his chair, she was smiling down at him. Her entourage was nowhere to be seen and the last attendees were leaving the room. As tantalizing aromas slipped into his nostrils, his throat caught. Not only the perfume, but she’d used that delicate wildflower body wash.

“Nat.”

“Um, sorry to bug you. Just wanted to say thanks for the dinner. I had some later.”

“Yeah, I noticed. And you’re welcome.”

“Also, uh, for the coffee and breakfast.” The smile disappeared as she gnawed glossy lips.

“No prob,” he said with a grin.

“You’re spoiling me, roomie.” The smile returned.

“Meh, I’m up early, anyway.” After a quick shrug, he tapped a travel mug next to his tablet. “Gotta have my joe and get something in the stomach before the gym.”

“You, uh, workout every day?”

“Yep, do now. Keeping me sane.” A quiet snort escaped him. “Sorta.”

“Okay, well.” Turning away, she inspected his screen and halted. “Oh, is that the program you’ve been finishing?”

“Yeah, the algorithm’s done.” He sighed. “At last.”

“It’s, um ... Some of the others were saying it’s really amazing.” Somehow, her smile broadened, and at the sudden flaring of her eyes, air caught in his throat. “So, um, congrats.”

“Thanks, Nat.” After tearing his gaze from her, he looked at the open doorway. “Can’t believe it’s Friday already. We’re launching next week. You ready?”

“Me? All I’ve gotta do is ensure nothing falls through the cracks.” A quiet sigh escaped her, adding minty breath to the air. “Still not sure why I’m coming along.”

“Good company?”

“Hah, maybe.” She chortled, then tapped his arm with a fingernail. “Later, roomie.”

She spun and headed from the room. Pulse racing, he gazed at the spot where her fingertip had touched him. Warmth radiated. Such a simple thing; yet since Daisy, it had been so long. After tracking her until she’d disappeared, he slapped the side of his head.

“Good company?” he hissed under his breath. “Really? For whom? Grainger? Those other guys? Why the hell would you say that, Danny?” Suddenly ice, his chest became iron. “Danny? Fuck.”

As a blood-red haze swirled at the edge of his vision, the conference room spiraled. Like a funhouse, but not fun. No, far from it. Stomach swirling; he clamped the tablet so hard it tapped the tabletop. He hated the name. They had called him that. On the highway. As had Daisy.

At last, with a curt hiss, he surged from the chair. Amid a blurry haze, pulsing crimson, he stomped for his office.

After work, by the time he entered their apartment, Natalie was in her room with the door closed. From the muffled music beyond it, she was preparing for a date. Once out of the suit and in loose gray sweats, he started making a meal. For himself. Alone.

“Another Friday night. Whoopee,” he grumbled.

At raucous giggles from her bedroom, he looked up. But after a quick exhale, he returned to slicing vegetables for a simple stir-fry. Just as the wok started sizzling, the music ended, and when her door creaked open, he looked up.

His jaw fell. Glittery gold strips. Two. Thin. One flashed atop her pert chest. The second was wrapped around her hips. Other than a beaming smile and tall, gilded stilettos that did wonders for her legs, she wore nothing else.

“Ta-da. What do you think, roomie?”

Mouth still open, he at last found her face. Each brushing a shoulder, her black hair hung in long, straight pigtails. After meeting his gaze, she gnawed at glossy pink lipstick.

“Yeah, I know. Kinky, right? This guy’s into the whole slutty schoolgirl thing.” She laughed. “Kinda cute, though, huh?”

“Uh—”

When she twirled, the bottom of a black lace bra peeked from beneath the tiny swaying crop top. After following his stare, she knitted her brow.

“Yeah, you’re right. What’s the point?” she said, before turning away.

After unsnapping and removing the bra, she tossed it into her room. With a smile, she once again faced him.

“Better?” She shook her chest. As the small cones wriggled, the golden material glimmered. “Oh, jeez. Mmm, damn. Now I really feel slutty.” Another burst of laughter left her. “Hmm, even more slutty.” She glanced at the clock. “Alright, I’m outta here. Don’t wait up. Pretty damn sure I’ll get lucky tonight.”

A quick lean to snatch a matching clutch purse gave him a clear view of one pink-tipped cone. After a final grin, she pranced from the apartment, and for a long time after it had shut, he simply stared at the closed door.

The wok sizzled.

His blood sizzled.

The scent of lilacs wasn’t left floating in the air. Nor elegant French perfume. No, the lingering aroma was fruity. Saccharin sweet. Bubble gum?

“Fitting for that silly fucking costume,” he grumbled before returning to the stovetop.

While eating, he watched a horrid sci-fi show. Or rather noted the gory, cheesy images on the screen, since his mind kept wandering. His wife, again. Daisy could, and had, dressed like that, bar the pigtails.

“Probably still is,” he murmured right as some hottie on a space station got engulfed by tentacles, then devoured.

Later, while taking his plate to the sink, he peeked through Natalie’s bedroom doorway. The bra lay crumpled on the floor. For a split second, he almost stepped inside to fold and place it on her bureau. Not appropriate. Instead, he tugged the door closed and, shaking his head, continued to the kitchen.