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  Nell put her chin down. “Give me those.”

  “No.” Tim stood stern and tall. “Absolutely not. You should see yourself, you look crazy.”

  “Give me those,” Nell said quietly, “or I will take them from you and beat you to death with them.”

  Tim gawked at her, and Nell reached out and wrenched one from his arms and swung it into the desk, feeling stronger with each explosion.

  “This is crazy.” Tim tried to scramble around her, and she grabbed another Icicle, tripping him as he went, and smashed it on the desk before turning to scoop up one he’d dropped as he’d staggered over her foot. She smashed that one, too, and then advanced on him for the last one, lusting after it more than she’d ever lusted after him.

  “I need that,” she said. “Give it to me.”

  “Stop it,” he said, clutching his last Icicle to his shirt. “For heaven’s sake, look at this mess.”

  “You think this is a mess?” Nell said. “Have you seen our family lately? Have you checked out our business? You smashed everything we’d built, everything we worked for, because you wanted to screw a size six. This”—she gestured to the glass-strewn office—“is nothing in comparison.”

  Although now that she looked around, the place was a pretty significant mess. His desk was destroyed. The window was cracked. The gray carpet was fall of crushed glass. She’d done some good work here.

  “There’s no need to be nasty.” Tim’s anger made him flush. “Whitney wears a two. And I lied for you and Jase,” he said, backing toward the door. “I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

  Nell stopped, dumbfounded, breathless with disbelief. “You didn’t want me to be hurt? You spend twenty-two years living with me, working with me, having a family with me, not a cloud in the sky, not a hint that anything is wrong, and then on Christmas you leave me, no explanation, the world suddenly makes no sense, and you think that won’t hurt?”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Tim said, taking a step forward.

  “I know it wasn’t my fault.”

  “It wasn’t because you weren’t attractive or young or understanding,” Tim went on. “I didn’t care about that.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Nell said.

  “If I’d said, ‘There’s another woman,’ you’d have thought it was because you weren’t good enough.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have,” Nell said. “I’d have thought you were an unimaginative son of a bitch having a midlife crisis.”

  “But it wasn’t about you,” Tim said earnestly. “I just fell in love. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “So it’s all about you,” Nell said. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  “Yes!” Tim said, relieved that she understood. “It would have done you no good to know about Whitney, it would only have caused you pain. I did it for you.”

  “Were you always this much of a weasel?” Nell said. “Because I honest to God can’t remember.”

  “Nell, I know it’s a shock, but really, everything’s fine. You’re doing great, Jase is doing great, I’m happy.” He spread his arms to show forgiveness, the last Icicle in one hand. “ ’Course, I’m going to have to replace a lot of Icicles here.”

  Nell locked her eyes on the last Icicle and went after it, ignoring the crunch of the glass under her feet. “Give me that.”

  Tim shoved the Icicle at Peggy who was still standing frozen by the door. “Quick!” he said. “She’s lost her mind. Go lock that up.”

  Peggy took the last Icicle and looked at Nell, caught, and Nell stopped, equally caught, this time by reality. She looked around the office and felt like hell, not because she’d destroyed it, but because destroying it hadn’t helped. All she’d done was lower herself to his level. Now Peggy thought they were both scum.

  Tim nodded, stern and in control, the Face of Reason in a mint-green shirt and coordinated tie. “I’m so disappointed in you, Nell. And I know Peggy must be, too.”

  “Not really,” Peggy said and handed the last Icicle to Nell. “I quit.”

  She left as Tim said, “Peggy!”

  “You are such a loser,” Nell said, holding the last Icicle. “And I will never have to save you again.” With one final swing, straight from the shoulder, she smashed the last Icicle—flinching as a piece of it flew up and caught her on the cheek—and with it the last of her life with Tim.

  “You never saved me,” Tim said, any pretense of friendship gone. “I was the brains in the business. You were just the secretary.”

  “You can keep telling yourself that,” Nell said, “but it’s not going to help.”

  He stood behind the mutilated desk and looked at her as if he hated her, and she said, “Good. Now you know how I feel.”

  Then she walked out of her old office and her old life, completely at a loss about what to do next.

  * * *

  Nell tried to stay angry on her way to the McKennas, absentmindedly wiping blood from the cut on her cheek, but it didn’t work. Back in the office, she sat behind her desk and felt the ice creep into her veins. She wasn’t allowed to fix this place, wasn’t allowed to get the money back from Lynnie, wasn’t even allowed to go rescue that poor dog in New Albany. Every time she tried to get up to speed, some man slowed her down. She tried to be angry about that, but mostly she just felt tired. And she’d lost Peggy’s job for her, too. She called the office and got Peggy as she was leaving.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nell told her. “Don’t quit because of me.”

  “I’m not,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to work here anymore. Ever since Whitney took over your job, she’s driving me crazy. She doesn’t know what she’s doing because she’s just starting, and she makes mistakes and then gets mad at me if I fix them without checking with her, and then she gets even madder if I don’t fix them. I can’t win.”

  “I know how that feels,” Nell said. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m going to be fine,” Peggy said. “Tim’s going to have problems, though.”

  “Good,” Nell said, but when she’d hung up, she slumped in her chair again. She tried to concentrate on her work, but when Gabe came out of his office a few minutes later, she was staring hopelessly into space.

  He started to say something and then stopped to stare at her. “What happened to your cheek?”

  Nell touched the cut. My old life happened to it. “Flying glass.”

  “Oh, hell, stay there,” Gabe said, his voice exasperated as usual. He went into the bathroom and came out with a damp paper towel and the first aid kit.

  “Really, it’s okay.” Nell rolled away from the desk a little. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re bleeding all over the office.” He hooked his foot around the bottom of her chair and pulled her back. “Sit still. This is the closest we’ve got to medical benefits, so take advantage of it.”

  He dabbed the cut clean and then smoothed antibiotic cream on her cheekbone, his fingers surprisingly gentle even while he scowled at her, so she sat quietly while he cut a tiny butterfly bandage to hold the cut closed, and tried not to enjoy being taken care of since it was sure to be a fleeting moment. She watched his eyes while he worked, intent on her, and when he was finished, he glanced at her and the glance caught. She stopped breathing for a minute because he was so close, and he froze, too, and then he said, “You’re done,” and sat back. “Now, where the hell did you find flying glass?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Nell touched the butterfly.

  “Yeah, I do. Am I missing another window?”

  “No,” Nell said and flushed. He sat watching her, waiting for something, and she finally spoke just to fill the silence. “Thank you for the first aid. I owe you.”

  “Good.” He stood up. “We’re collecting. We need you to work tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Nell shrugged as he took the first aid kit back into the bathroom. “Okay. Tell me what it is and I’ll do it now.”

  “Not secretarial,” he said as he came out aga
in. “Riley will pick you up at nine. Lose the bandage by then.”

  “Nine tonight?” Nell said. “What is this?”

  “Decoy work. You sit down in a bar next to a guy to see if he picks you up.” He turned back toward his office.

  “Wait a minute. Some guy is going to proposition me?” She thought of herself in the mirror that day, looking like she’d been dead for months. “I think you’ve got the wrong kind of woman here.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Men in hotel bars are not that picky.”

  “Ouch,” Nell said.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean it that way. You’re a very attractive woman.”

  He seemed marginally sincere, but she’d seen herself in that mirror. On the other hand, she didn’t have anything better to do with her evening, except discuss her day with Suze.

  “I’ll do it,” Nell said.

  * * *

  When Nell returned Gabe’s datebook an hour later, she still looked flushed and stormy and even more unstable than usual with that cut on her cheek, all of which was oddly attractive. Of course, he’d always had a weakness for the odd and unstable. Look at Chloe.

  He stood up. “Let me show you our freezer.”

  “Your freezer?” she said, but she followed him through the outer office and into Chloe’s storeroom where he unlocked the door to the big walk-in freezer.

  “This is where we keep our back files,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  “Why?” she said, peering in.

  “Because it locks,” Gabe said. “And because Chloe only uses the front part.”

  “Why does she have a freezer at all?” Nell said.

  “The place used to be a restaurant. We use what we have.” He flipped on the light and stepped inside and she followed him in. “Somewhere in here is at least one file box marked ‘1978,’ possibly two. Find them and go through them and pull out everything that has Trevor Ogilvie’s or Jack Dysart’s name on it.”

  “All right,” Nell said, looking around. “I can’t get locked in here by accident, can I?”

  “No. It’s not an automatic latch.”

  “And how many years of files do you have in here?”

  “Twenty or thirty. The rest are in the basement.”

  “You have a basement, too.” She sounded depressed by that. “Okay, 1978. I’ll find it.” He turned to go and she said, “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Sure,” Gabe said as he stepped out of the freezer. “About the time I let you redesign the business cards and repaint the window.”

  * * *

  Searching through file boxes didn’t do much to occupy Nell’s mind, so she worried about the night to come; by five, she’d found at least two dozen files with Trevor’s or Jack’s name on them, and she was sick to her stomach with pre-performance stage fright. So on her way home, she stopped at Suze’s and said, “I need a makeover,” and when she opened the door to Riley four hours later, he was appropriately speechless at the sight of her.

  “I had some work done,” she said as she waved him into her apartment.

  “It shows.” Riley tilted his head and surveyed her. “Redhead, huh? It suits you.”

  “You don’t think it’s too bright?” Nell went back to the mirror. She couldn’t get over it herself. With vivid color in her hair and some makeup, she looked semi-alive again. “I thought it was too much, but Steven said this would look natural.”

  “Who’s Steven?”

  “Suze’s hairdresser. By the park. He’s a genius.”

  “He certainly is,” Riley said. “Everything looks natural.”

  Nell turned back to see him looking at her dress, an electric blue bandage that wrapped around her like a second skin. “It’s Suze’s,” she said, and when he said, “What’s Suze’s?” she realized he was looking at her body, not the outfit. “The dress. My best friend, Suze, gave it to me.”

  “Suze has good taste,” Riley said. “Jesus.”

  “So all I have to do is be nice, right?”

  “In that dress, you don’t even have to be nice,” Riley said. “And now we have a problem.”

  “What?” Nell tugged at the dress. “Too tight?”

  “For me, no. For the bug, yes.” He held up a tiny tape recorder. “You need to put this somewhere where it can’t be seen.” He shook his head at her. “I can see everything.”

  “No, you can’t.” Nell held out her hand. “This is Suze’s push-up bra that’s at least a cup size too big for me. There’s room in here for an entire stereo system.”

  “Imagine my disappointment,” Riley said and handed over the recorder mike.

  She managed to wedge the recorder into Suze’s bra, but that was the only thing she was relieved about as she went into the elegant hotel bar half an hour later and crossed the room to the man Riley had pointed out to her from the doorway.

  “Scotch and soda,” she told the bartender, and then she looked around the mirrored bar before glancing at the man next to her.

  He was an ordinary-looking guy in a nice-looking suit, and he was watching her. Or, at least, he was watching Suze’s bra and Steven’s hair.

  “Hi.” She smiled and turned back to her scotch and startled herself with her redheaded reflection in the mirror. It had been a long time since she’d looked this good. She wet her lips and smiled again into the mirror, into her own eyes instead of somebody else’s, flirting with herself as she drank her scotch. Actually, she’d never looked this good. If she put back on some of that weight—

  The guy caught her eye in the mirror. “Hi,” he said and held out his hand. “I’m Ben.”

  “Hi, Ben,” she said, taking it. “I’m Nell.” And I’m hot. Sort of.

  “What’s a nice lady like you doing in a place like this?”

  “Getting a drink.” Her pulse was pounding. It was a miracle he couldn’t feel the throb through her palm. “You?”

  “Getting drunk,” he said. “I’m in town on business, and it’s boring as hell. You here on business?”

  “Yes,” Nell said, taking back her hand as the bartender put a second drink on the bar for her. “My job is definitely responsible for this.”

  “Well, here’s to your job,” Ben said, raising his glass. “It’s certainly making my night better.”

  He was nice, Nell discovered as he bought her drinks and listened to her. Tim hadn’t listened to her since she’d said, “I do.” “I like you,” she told Ben over her third drink, and then she remembered that he was married.

  He smiled back at her. “I like you, too.” He looked around the bar and added, “But this place is noisy, and I want to talk some more.” He looked deep into her eyes. “How about coming up to my room where it’s quieter?”

  Was the whole world full of straying men? How did anybody stay married?

  “I’m sorry,” Ben said into her silence. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Nell said. “I’m just getting over my divorce, so I’m a little shaky on this stuff.”

  He smiled at her, sweet if you didn’t know he was a cheating scum. “I promise to go slow,” he said and touched her shoulder lightly, and to her surprise, Nell flushed.

  It had been just a little blip in her pulse, but it was there, and it made her realize there hadn’t been any blip for a long time. She looked down at herself, wrapped in Suze’s blue Lycra, and realized she’d become disconnected from her body. No hunger, no lust, she wasn’t even sure she could feel pain. The cut on her cheek hadn’t hurt at all, now that she thought about it. Maybe she was dead and she was just too damn dumb to lie down.

  “Nell?” Ben said. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Yes,” she said to him, suddenly desperate to feel something. She didn’t want to die without having slept with anybody but Tim. She didn’t want to die at all, she wanted to feel alive again. Ben was a cheat, he didn’t count, he was from out of town, she’d never have to face him again. Prove to me I’m still alive.

  “Ye
s,” she said. “I’d love to come to your room with you.”

  “I’m glad,” he said. “You’re somebody I want to get to know better.”

  You don’t want to know me, she wanted to say. Just have sex with me, and then I’ll rat you out to your wife.

  They caught the elevator as people were getting off, and Nell stood beside him, vibrating with tension. This was the right thing to do. She needed something to break through the ice that held her still, something to start her moving again.

  The elevator doors opened, and Ben held them apart for her. She went down the hall with him and waited while he unlocked his door. “In you go,” he said cheerfully, and in she went, trying not to hyperventilate.

  He took off his coat and threw it over a brocade chair, looking like every guy she’d ever known in a shirt and tie. Maybe I should try dating bikers, she thought.

  “How about a drink?” Ben said, and she put her hand on his arm and said, “No. Thanks.”

  She stepped closer so he could kiss her, and he stepped closer, too, smelling of whiskey, which wasn’t unpleasant, and feeling warm under her hands when she put them on his arms, which also wasn’t unpleasant. She had a feeling she should be getting more than “not unpleasant,” but she’d been dead a long time, so she didn’t want to ask for too much. And when he kissed her, a perfectly good kiss, that wasn’t unpleasant, either.

  Then he slid his hands down her back onto her rear end, and she didn’t feel a thing, not a tremble, not a shudder. And for the first time she realized that could be a problem; unless he traveled with KY, there was no way she was going to be able to have sex with him. Not to mention when he peeled off her bra, he was going to find the microphone.

  He kissed her again while she tried to figure out what to do. Maybe if she—

  Somebody knocked on the door, and Ben whispered, “Sorry,” and went to answer it.