Melissa Good - Red Sky at Morning

A finger pointed at him. “If you go a step further than that, I will personally fire your ass. Understand?”

“Understood,” Bob acknowledged quietly, as Dar reentered the restaurant, moving back toward them and taking her seat. Alert blue eyes flicked first to Alastair, then to him, and he got the curious sensation of being analyzed like a faulty piece of code by the raw, potent intelligence lurking just behind Dar’s now watchful gaze.

“Trouble, Dar?” Alastair took a gulp of his wine and swirled the remainder around his glass. “Didn’t think we had that much going on this week.”

“Ah.” Dar twirled a forkful of spaghetti and munched on it, swallowing before she answered. “It’s that damned conversion in Chicago. They’ve been trying to tie in that big ATM pipeline up to Canada for two weeks, and every time they do it, they take down half the Midwest.” She took a sip of her own wine. “I may have to send a team out there.”

“Lousy time to be traveling,” Bob ventured. “Holidays and all.”

“Mm,” Dar agreed, meeting his gaze. “Comes with the territory, though. My people know that. Work comes first.” She finished off her meatballs and sat back, crossing an arm over her chest as she sipped the wine. The problem was aggravating, for sure, and she wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t going to have to go there in person to take care of it.

Which truly, truly sucked.

“Hey, Dar?”

She looked up to find Bob leaning forward with a look of friendly interest on his face. “Mm?” Something had gone on between him and Alastair, that much she knew, but what that was... Probably didn’t involve her. “Something on your mind?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Get to the city much?”

That surprised her. “No. I try to not cross the Mason-Dixon unless I have to,” she replied dryly, giving Alastair a look. “Why?”

Bob folded his hands together. Dar noticed they were nice, strong ones, with well-tended nails and just a hint of callus along the top of his index fingers. “I’m pretty proud of the place. I’ve lived here since I was shorter than the fire hydrants outside. Will you let me give you a quick tour?”

10 Melissa Good Dar considered the request. “If you put an itinerary together for tomorrow night, sure,” she agreed amiably. “It’s been a long day.” He was attractive, and a sharp businessman, and it never hurt to build a few bridges when one had the chance to. Especially with the sales and marketing side of the house, with which she tended to be forever at cross-purposes.

“You’re on.” Bob grinned, then pushed back from the table and stood up. “Al, it’s been a pleasure as always.” He inclined his head.

“See you at the soiree tomorrow.” His eyes shifted. “And you, as well, I hear, Madame. Looking forward to hearing the presentation.” With a slight bow, he turned and threaded his way through the now truly busy restaurant, disappearing into the New York night once he cleared the door.

KERRY STROLLED SLOWLY along the sidewalk. It was after her meeting and she was enjoying the bustling crowds as they passed around her along busy South Beach. The atmosphere around her was laid back and relaxed, people seeing and being seen, and she felt a sense of anonymous comfort as she dodged a Roller Blader and paused to peer in a shop window.

Fashions. Her nose wrinkled a little. South Beach tended to the avant-garde and eclectic. And though Kerry wouldn’t exactly consider herself stodgy, she couldn’t quite imagine wearing most of what she saw.

Outside her bedroom, anyway.

She pushed the door open anyway and went in, letting her hands riffle through the rich, exotic fabrics as she made a brief, polite eye contact with the girl behind the desk. “Hello.”

“Hi,” the girl replied, in an agreeable tone. “Howaya?”

“Fine thanks.” Kerry paused, her attention attracted by a rack of leather somethings. “Oo.” She pushed aside two pairs of pants and peered at a studded leather bustier, biting the inside of her lip as she tried to imagine herself wearing it.

“Nice, huh?” The girl was now at her shoulder. “That designer’s great. He’s local,” she said. “A lot of people wear his stuff to the clubs.”

Clubs. Dar wasn’t much for clubs, and Kerry really wasn’t either, finding them noisy and chaotic though possessing a thrumming energy she sometimes appreciated. “It is nice,” she agreed.

“You want that for you?” the girl asked, her voice doubtful.

Kerry gave her a sideways look. “Don’t look like a biker rebel club chick, huh?” She caught a flash of herself in the mirror behind the counter, acknowledging that her Midwestern blonde conservative appearance probably leant itself to the girl’s dubious expression.

“Well.” The girl gave her a half grin. “You never know, you know?

But most people who come in here, they’re pretty radical already.”

Red Sky At Morning 11

The door to the shop opened, and the girl looked up. “Excuse me,”

she said. “If you need something, just holler.” She ducked between the racks to greet the newcomers, male and female voices rising in a thickly accented question as she approached.

Kerry turned back to her rack, and took the bustier off the hook, holding it up. It laced all the way down and was cut to fit very tight, studs outlining the breasts adding a blatantly sexy touch. “Hm.” She nibbled her lip. “But what on earth would you do with it, Kerry?” She started to put the hanger back, then she stopped, and turned, heading for the cashier’s desk. “I’ll find a place to wear it even if it’s just to give Dar a good laugh in our living room.”

The two other customers were arguing over long, leather pants, and the sales clerk looked glad enough to leave their side when she saw Kerry approaching. “You going to go for it?”

“Yeah.” Kerry produced a wry grin, along with her credit card.

“You only live once, right?”

“Not according to my abuela ,” the girl answered promptly. “She says we all live many, many times. She knows.”

Kerry leaned on the counter. “How? How does she know?”

The clerk presented her with a charge slip and a pen with the head of Ozzy Osborne on it. “She says she knows because every time she gets a cat, it’s her ex-husband coming back all over again.”

They both laughed, and Kerry signed the slip as she shook her head, while the girl neatly folded the bustier and put it in a bag. Kerry pushed the slip back across the table and picked up her bag, turning fully to look at the two other shoppers for the first time.

Ah. She blinked, and gave the two a brief smile as she squeezed past them. Hoping she didn’t catch anything on one of their many piercings or the four inch nails the girl was waving around, Kerry conceded that the clerk certainly did have a point about her usual clientele.

Ah well. She pushed the door open and emerged into the cool evening air, checking her watch as she started down the sidewalk again.

“Coming back as a cat, huh?” She chuckled, as she headed in the direction of one of her favorite sushi dives. “Boy, people believe in some weird stuff.”

She swung her bag over her shoulder and continued ambling along, peeking into windows. She approached one set, with a bench in front of them. The bench held a long limbed man sprawled across it, apparently just enjoying the cool night air. “Evening.” Kerry greeted him a she passed.

“Hey, cute lady.” The man responded, in an amiable tone. “C’mere.

You got great skin. Want something gorgeous on it?”

Kerry glanced at the window, which featured the word Tattoo prominently on it. “Not tonight, thanks.”