Satisfaction Page 5

  “Chocolaty, frosty, low in fat, high in protein, and dee-licious. For a quick pick-me-up, you’ve gotta try one of these babies.”

  She offered a toast to her guests, and everyone raised their glasses and drank.

  A second went by, and another, then, almost as a single unit, everyone choked and spit the liquid back into their glasses. Wiping their mouths and staring at Georgie, they looked confused…and horrified.

  “Cut!” Gil yelled. “Georgie, what in the hell—”

  “Bitter!” she managed to rasp past her gag reflexes. “Oh, God—”

  Immediately Ethan was by her side.

  “Set your glass down, Georgie,” he ordered. “Everyone, put your glasses down and don’t touch anything. Gil, have somebody call 911.” When Gil only stared at him, Ethan shouted, “Now!”

  Placing his hands on Georgie’s shoulders, Ethan turned her toward him. He searched her face, then looked hard into her eyes, deep and down, as though he were scanning her very bones. “Do you feel nauseous or dizzy? Feel like throwing up or—”

  She shook her head. Barely able to speak past the wretched taste in her mouth, she choked. “Rosemary. Oil of rosemary…concentrated…tastes…God…”

  Coughing, she clutched her throat, trying to swallow past the foul taste that coated her mouth.

  As her studio audience gulped glasses of fresh water, Georgie picked up the tumbler a worried Gil had filled for her, and did the same. It had little effect.

  “I don’t understand how this could have happened,” she rasped. “All the ingredients I used were from sealed containers.”

  Ethan’s gaze left her face and shifted to the refrigerator.

  “Except for the ice cubes,” he said quietly.

  Together, they walked to the fridge. Ethan opened the freezer and removed one large cube from the bin. It looked like an ordinary ice cube. He held it to his nose and sniffed it. Immediately he scowled. “Are you sure it’s only oil of rosemary?”

  Georgie nodded. “Tasted it once before. It’s nontoxic, but tastes horrible. They use it in spray form to keep dogs from gnawing on things. I used it once, and got some on my mouth accidentally. It took hours for the taste to go away, and that was only a tiny bit.”

  “I’m going to have this analyzed,” he said. “You got any plastic bags?”

  She pulled open a drawer next to the refrigerator and handed him a small bag. He plopped the ice cube inside and sealed it, then flicked his gaze back to her.

  Reining in her fear, Georgie shrugged and lowered her head. “Pretty good prank. Somebody must be having a laugh about now. Irritating, but no real harm done.”

  She felt Ethan studying her. “A prank this time, Georgie. But think about it. Whoever did this could just as easily have put some kind of drug or poison in the ice cubes. Something to make you very sick, maybe even very dead.”

  She pressed her lips together and tried to breath past the taste still clinging to her lips, while her fear buzzed like flying ants in her ears. “That’s ridiculous. This was just a prank, another silly, childish trick. It’ll probably show up on some blooper reel somewhere. I—I can’t imagine why anyone would want to make the studio guests sick or harm me.”

  She felt his knuckle under her chin. As he tilted her face up to his, their eyes locked, and he murmured coldly, “I’ll bet if you tried real hard you could come up with a reason. Couldn’t you, Georgie?”

  Chapter Five

  Second only to the front door, your bed is the most important object in your house. All aspects of your bed affect your chi (life force). To promote a solid relationship with your man, make sure the bed you share has a strong wooden headboard.

  Georgiana Mundy’s Feng Shui for Lovers

  “It was oil of rosemary,” Ethan said, watching Horton wring his hands as he’d been doing for the last two hours. “I had my own lab rush it through. Oil of rosemary, just like Georgie said. It’s only toxic in highly concentrated doses, so even though the ice cubes probably tasted like shit, they were harmless. The paramedics gave everyone a clean bill of health.”

  “Oh, well, well, thank God! That’s all I can say, thank God!” Horton ran his fingers across the top of his head, forking through the few wisps of hair that remained, like a rake through limp grass. “Jesus, what next?” He paced back and forth in front of his desk. Stopping, he lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Who’s doing this, Ethan. And why?”

  “Who knew Georgie was going to use ice cubes in her cooking demonstration today?”

  “Uh, uh, well, that could be any number of people, Ethan. Anybody who’d read the script.”

  “I want to talk with everyone who had access to that information and who would have had an opportunity to tamper with the set.”

  Behind Horton’s half-moon glasses, his eyes widened. “But, but, but, that’s something like fifty people!”

  “Then I’ll need to talk to fifty people. Arrange it. I’ll need a room where I can have some privacy. I’d also like to take a look at your employee files, especially for anybody who might be unhappy with KALM in general, or Georgie in particular.”

  Horton nodded, resettling his glasses on his nose. After a quick phone call to his secretary, asking her to begin gathering the files Ethan had requested, he set the receiver back in its cradle. “It’ll take some time to assemble all that information, Ethan. Meanwhile, I can give you a few names, though I doubt any of them would do something like this.”

  “You’d be surprised what people are capable of, Mr. Horton.”

  The station manager looked thoughtful for a moment. “You’re a very cynical man, aren’t you, Ethan?”

  Yeah, he thought. But I’ve come by it honestly. A lifetime of trying to do the right thing, trying to protect the vulnerable, trying to follow the straight and narrow, be a good kid, a good man, a good cop, only to fail the most important test of his life. Those things had a way of skewing perceptions, stealing away the simple joys that other people appreciated, closing some doors that could never be opened again.

  He thought of Georgie. Now, there was a door he wouldn’t mind opening.

  It had been a long time since he’d considered a real relationship with a woman again, but Georgie Mundy seemed to be knocking on that door, whether she knew it or not. She’d already somehow broken the latch. If he wasn’t careful, she’d ease it open and walk on in, and he wasn’t sure he could let that happen.

  She intrigued him in a way no other woman had, not even Cathy. The look in her eyes today on the set…there wasn’t only surprise in those expressive eyes, there was fear, and he hadn’t liked it or his response to it. He’d wanted to pull her against him, tuck her close, and draw his sword against her unseen enemies. Even though she was tough, something about her brought out all his protective instincts, and he found he wanted to put himself between her and anyone who would hurt her.

  To the world, he was one coldhearted son of a bitch, focused, relentless, driven. In his line of work, it served him well. But there was something about Georgie that made him hope she might look beyond the façade.

  He scratched his jaw. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot and now she viewed him the same way the rest of the world did. She knew a whole lot more than she was telling, and it bothered him, even pissed him off. She needed to trust someone, and he wanted it to be him.

  Ah, hell. Maybe her reticence was for the best. After what had happened with Cathy, he must be crazy to be thinking about ruining another woman’s life.

  So many questions. Why had she made sure nobody followed her over the weekend? Where had she gone; who had she seen? What was her secret? Was she trying to protect someone, or was she up to no good? And did it have anything to do with the games somebody was playing with her?

  His lab was putting a rush on matching those latents he’d lifted from the storage room at Trent’s office. Maybe once he knew who’d been standing at that window on Friday, he’d know a little more about what was going on with Georgie.
/>
  Or maybe not.

  Horton was still rambling on. “…seem like the kind of man who—”

  “A lot of people in law enforcement are cynical, Mr. Horton,” he finally said. “Comes with the territory.”

  Horton cocked his head. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ethan. I really am. Nevertheless, back to business. You wanted to know if we’ve had any trouble with personnel recently?”

  “You saying you have?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, indeedy,” Horton replied. “Three incidents I’m aware of. Hildy Nelson…she does Hildy’s Haute Chocolate…well, Hildy’s ratings were slipping, so we were forced to give her show a new time slot. Not a happy camper, and she let everybody know it.”

  “Who got her old time slot?”

  “Well, Georgie, of course. Wasn’t Georgie’s fault, but Hildy didn’t see it that way. A time slot can make or break a show, you see.”

  Ethan pulled the notebook from his pocket and scribbled down the information. “I’m going to want to talk to Ms. Nelson. You said there were three incidents?”

  Horton slumped back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of him. “Hmm, yes. Well, the next one was Iona Jameson.”

  “She a TV cook, too?”

  “No. Nuh-uh, no. She was in charge of Georgie’s wardrobe, but she just wasn’t capturing the silhouette we wanted for Georgie, so we replaced her.”

  “And she blames Georgie?”

  “I didn’t think so. Actually, she’s done quite well in the end. Advanced herself up to head wardrobe mistress for all of KALM, but she was pretty cranky for a while over the change.” He wrinkled his nose. “People don’t like change, you know.”

  Ethan made more notes. Looking up, he said, “And the third incident?”

  “Ignacio Quincy.” Horton rolled his eyes. “Brilliant showman, excellent chef, but a bit of a prick, if you ask me,” he said in a hushed tone. “Top-rated shows, until Georgie came along. He approached me a few months ago and wanted her fired.”

  Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

  Horton shook his head. “Just on general principles, apparently. Accused her of stealing his recipes, but since Iggy prepares ethnic cuisine and Georgie’s focus is natural foods, I didn’t see how or why she would. Besides, that’s just not Georgie. Not a deceitful bone in her body.”

  Hmm. Now, there was a subject for debate, as far as Ethan was concerned. “And old Iggy was pissed about her higher ratings?”

  In an exasperated tone, Horton sighed, “Ah, the artistic temperament. His ratings are still right up there, but…well, the ego, you see.” He gave a helpless shrug.

  Ethan flipped his notebook closed. “I’m especially interested in talking to those three.” Checking his watch, he said, “It’s nearly six. I’d like to get started about eight tomorrow. Have them here.”

  “Sure. You bet, will do, Ethan.” Horton leaned forward, absently adjusting the three framed photos on his desk until they sat perfectly aligned.

  “Your family?” Ethan asked, gesturing to the photo of a man with his arm around a small boy.

  Horton beamed. “Yes. My partner and our son, Josh. The light of our lives. I don’t know how I ever thought I was happy before…well…” He sighed and released the photo. His grin faded and his voice became serious. “This, uh, this set-tampering business, it has to end, before somebody really does get hurt. I desperately want this whole thing to be over.”

  Rising to his feet, Ethan offered his hand. The two men shook. “I understand, Mr. Horton. Until tomorrow, then.”

  As Ethan left Horton’s office, his cell phone vibrated. Checking the readout, he pressed the button. “Lucas? You got a name on those prints for me?”

  “Sure do, boss,” the agent replied. “And I think you’re going to find this very, very interesting.”

  It had taken nearly a full pint of Häagen-Dazs Vanilla Bean ice cream to finally neutralize the foul taste in Georgie’s mouth.

  Standing in front of her oval bathroom mirror, she smirked into her own eyes. Full-fat, nonsoy, nonorganic, guilt-inducing, thigh-dimpling real ice cream—a terrible infraction, all those calories, but after what she’d been through, she certainly deserved to indulge herself. She eyed what little remained in the container, then ate it as well.

  Sex would have been a far better treat, but that simply wasn’t an option at the moment. She watched as her smile drooped into a pity-party pout.

  Sex. How long had it been? She was nearly thirty, single, smart, accomplished, nice-enough-looking—eh-hem, some would say beautiful—financially in de pen dent, had curves in all the right places, and was acquainted with many eligible men—none of whom she wanted in her bedroom at the moment.

  The arrogant image of Ethan Darling swaggered across her mind. Talk about frustrating. Now, there was a man who probably knew his way around a woman’s body. Without so much as having kissed him, she knew that he’d get the job done and leave her panting for more.

  Deep inside her body, her blood heated, sending a trill of excitement up her spine. Tossing her head, she threw his image aside. Why torture herself with lusty thoughts of Ethan? Besides, he was the enemy.

  She picked up her natural-bristle hairbrush, absently stroking the soft tufts with her thumb. In frustration, she let it clatter back onto the vanity.

  It wasn’t just sex she missed, although a few major male-induced orgasms would certainly cure what ailed her. It was the emotional and physical closeness, the man-woman stuff she craved—quiet conversations, hugging, tender kisses…the sheer happiness of being in love.

  There was a gleam in Ethan’s eyes that had her thinking he might be a man who could give her those things. When he looked at her, his eyes held an elusive something that promised a softer side, hinted of a facet to his personality he allowed few people to see. She’d glimpsed it a couple of times now, catching her off guard, confusing her, making her think that if tough-guy Ethan Darling ever fell in love, it would be completely.

  Even though she’d be hard-pressed to define her suspicions, the attraction, the connection between them couldn’t be dismissed. It was there. For good or ill, or whether anything would ever come of it, it was definitely there.

  But intimacy with any man came with a price, one she couldn’t afford to pay at the moment. If she had to go without romance a little longer, she could manage. There were people who loved her, even if they were hundreds of miles away. It was just the way it had to be right now, until she was sure things were safe. She’d gone into this situation with open eyes; loss of intimacy was simply the price she’d have to pay for her deceit. To protect her family, it was worth it. Besides, a lifetime of indifference inside an unresponsive system hadn’t exactly equipped her for love.

  Orphaned at five, she’d been ricocheted around inside the system like a runaway pinball. Twelve years of abuse, neglect, and just plain apathy had left a thick layer of rust on her soul. Love was under there somewhere, if a man took the time to chip away at the residue. So far, no man had.

  The first of her three foster families had been wonderful. She’d spent two years with the Dowds before being moved. The next situation was horrid, but fortunately, her time with The Man and The Woman, as she and Raine had called them, hadn’t lasted long. And while the last place had been tolerable, the Bakers had too many kids and too little time for her.

  The only real good to have come of it all was Raine, and then later Mrs. Beebes. Despite their lack of a blood bond, the three of them were family in every way that counted, and she’d fight to the death to protect them.

  Snapping off the bathroom light, she picked up her cell phone from the nightstand beside her bed. After a quick call to Santa Barbara to make sure everything was okay, she stripped out of her clothes, took a shower, and slipped into her comfiest pajama bottoms and stretchy tank. The white knit top was a little tight, cupping around her breasts like a second skin, but it wasn’t like anybody was going to see her in it, so what the hell.

  Padding
in bare feet down the hall to her office, she sat down and opened the laptop sitting on the small desk by the window. A few seconds later, the Green Day screensaver flickered to life. Just as she went to open her e-mail, the phone next to the computer rang. She checked the readout; that was weird. Who would be calling her from her own dressing room phone? Was there a problem at work?

  “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Hello?” she repeated. “Who is this?”

  Silence. A sick tickle feathered up her spine and her breath stopped in her throat. She swallowed, but didn’t speak, only listened. A million scenarios blasted through her head, none of which were good, and all of them starred—

  “Paul. It’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Wow.” He chuckled. “You are good—”

  “Get out of my dressing room, you fucker!” she whispered, her voice harsh and raspy. “Get out of my dressing room and get out of my life!”

  “Aren’t you gonna ask me how I got into your inner sanctum?”

  “I can guess. I’m hanging up now and calling the police.”

  He laughed, a loud boisterous guffaw, ending on a lilting sigh. “Ah, Georgie. Silly, silly goose. By the time anybody gets here, I’ll be gone, and you know it.”

  She closed her eyes. “It was you in the window the other day. What do you want?”

  He can’t know. He can’t! He’s just being an ass. He cannot know anything.

  “Well, I’ll tell you, Georgie. The way you treated me when we broke up cut me, it really did.”

  “You’re a criminal, Paul. A common criminal. You should be in prison, and would be if—”

  “Really,” he snorted. “I have it on good authority that you’ve been playing fast and loose with the shady side of the law yourself.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Give it up now,” he warned, “or you’ll be the one paying the price.”