Dara Girard - Sparks

Lionel glanced away.

“Let me help you out.”

He sent her a curious glance.

“I could give you some of the information you seek, for a small fee.”

“No.”

She folded her arms under her breast and sighed heavily. His gaze dipped. It was a cheap trick, but she was pleased it worked. “Very well. If you don’t want the juicy tidbit I could give you, that’s your choice.”

His face remained impassive, but his eyes lit with interest. “Juicy tidbit?”

“That is correct.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Okay. It’s a deal. What do you have for me?”

“So you admit that Brandon sent you to spy on me?”

“Yes.”

Dawn held out her hand. He hesitated, then handed her a few bills. She counted them then folded them up. She grinned at him when he glanced at her cleavage. “No, I’m not going to put them there.” He colored a bit and looked away.

She put the money in her purse. “Good. You can go now.”

Lionel surged to his feet. “Wait. What about the juicy tidbit?”

Dawn opened her desk drawer and pulled out a tangerine. “It’s delicious. Enjoy.” She placed it in his palm.

He stared at the tangerine, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

She walked across the room and opened the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Redding.”

“You’re a conniving, lying…”

She bowed as though he’d offered her a compliment. “Welcome to Washington, D.C., Mr. Redding. Good day.”

After Redding left, Dawn closed the door then went over and stood by the window. She used to have a view of Wisconsin Avenue with its well-dressed people and designer cars. Not anymore. Although she did see cars: she had an unblocked view of a parking lot.

Dawn tapped a finger against the wall. She used to have everything until Brandon Layton, her then lover and business partner, had convinced the board that as vice president, she had been involved in shady deals with the company’s finances. They voted her out of office within a week.

Looking out the window, she suddenly spotted a tall lanky man acting strangely. He was wearing a gray overcoat, and his reddish-brown hair stuck up all over his head—from the wind or by design she wasn’t sure. He wandered around the parking lot, probably searching for his car. Dawn folded her arms then frowned at the tightness under her arms. This jacket used to fit—loosely. She took it off and tossed it over her chair. A lot of her clothes used to fit, but not anymore.

Wouldn’t Brandon just love to know about the extra fifteen pounds she’d picked up since their breakup? Her slim figure had actually gotten rather curvy. She looked at the box of donuts on the table and grabbed a half-eaten one: chocolate with coconut topping. She stopped with it halfway to her mouth. She shouldn’t. She should eat fruits, nuts and low-fat shakes. She should jog every morning and drink lots of water. She should really try to eat healthy.

She sighed. Dropped the donut back in the box and tossed it in the trash bin on the side of her desk. Her stomach rumbled. She could still smell the sweet scent of powdered sugar, coconut shavings and chocolate. But she would resist. She had to get into shape.

Dawn took a step back from her trash bin and turned back to the window. The man was still wandering. She opened the window. A light breeze from winter’s lasting hold struck her face. From her view on the fourth floor she could see the entire lot. Perhaps she could help. She called down to him. “What does it look like?”

The man jumped and spun around looking wildly around him.

“Up here,” she said waving.

He glanced up and shielded his eyes against the sun. “Yeah?”

“Your car. What does it look like?”

“I own a green Chevy.”

Dawn scanned the lot. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any green Chevys. Perhaps you drove something else today.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t drive here.” He pointed to his watch. “It’s supposed to be here waiting for me.”

Dawn glanced at her clock. He probably meant the bus. “No, you don’t catch the bus here. The stop is five blocks up the road.”

“I’m not looking for the bus. I’m waiting for the Parva.”

“Never heard of it. Is it a new tour company?”

“It’s my spaceship. I was certain the Telkain people would meet me here today. Have you seen them? Their friends have to return and I’m going with them. They’re really small, but have a laser that will shrink me so that I will be allowed to join them.”

Dawn sighed. Great. First a pig, now a nutcase. Her theory was correct. There were no more decent men left. “Sorry, I haven’t seen them.”

“Do you want to? I have them right here.” He opened his overcoat. She did not see the Telkain people, but she did see everything else.

Dawn ducked back inside, hitting her head on the window frame. She swore and shut the window.

Her assistant Simone Brackus peeked her head inside. Her greenish-brown eyes showed concern. “Are you okay?” she asked in a deep melodic voice that belied her petite size and delicate features.

Dawn rubbed the back of her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Well?” Simone asked, waving her hands impatiently.

“We didn’t get the job. Brandon hired him to snoop.”

She sighed. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“I know.” She looked at the stack of mail—bills mostly. If she didn’t get a job soon Ajani Consulting will have to go on hiatus permanently. Brandon would love that!

“Another hard day?” Martin, the security guard, asked her as she made her way to the elevators in her apartment.

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow will be better.”

“Thanks.” Dawn stepped into the elevator and watched the doors closed. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

Jordan Taylor didn’t believe in ghosts until his ex-wife began to haunt him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dead yet. Not that he ever harbored any thoughts of killing her. Killing her memory would be much more satisfying. Twisting its neck until all life was gone and throwing it in a trash heap to be forgotten. Yes, that would make his life perfect. Well, almost perfect.

He stared down at his bedroom floor, watching the red glow of his digital clock pierce the shadows amid the low lamplight. It mingled with the moonlight that splashed a pale glow on the carpet. Nobody thought he knew what he was doing as the new CEO of The Medical Institute. They were right, but they didn’t need to know that. And he wasn’t going to tell them.

The early April breeze tapped against his window. For a moment he considered inviting it in, letting the wind’s cool breath numb his body, perhaps freeze his thoughts. But he didn’t move.

He drummed his fingers against the mattress as his mind betrayed him, rehashing memories he’d wanted to banish, repeating words he wanted to forget. Do you take this woman—Within minutes the entire vow repeated in his memory as it had for years—for as long as you both shall live? He wondered if other grooms looked at their beloved and suddenly felt sick.

He had looked into his ex-wife’s eyes and saw the hope, commitment, and what he had mistaken for love, shining in her sweet, brown gaze and quickly pushed his doubts aside. He had willingly handed the preacher the key to his chains with two simple words: I do. Damn. He flexed his fingers, pushing the thought away.

A man should not be judged solely by his mistakes, and he did not plan on making any more. He was a simple, practical man and knew the best way to avoid future misjudgments was to act in a manner that prevented them.

He would never allow himself to be trampled on by a woman’s ambition.

He would never find himself in a situation he could not control.