away from us. The adventure isn't over. Stay and fight with us.'
But no sparks flashed in those deep dark eyes. Something essential had left him. He stood before her-a visionary with no vision, a missionary who had lost his faith. Gently, he removed her hand from his cheek. Then he turned on his heel and left them alone.
Chapter 29
Susannah was cold with fear. She couldn't imagine SysVal without Sam. He
Apparently they were no more anxious than she to be alone, because they immediately agreed to her suggestion.
They drove separately. Mitch and Yank parked in front, while Susannah drove into the single-car garage. As she came in through the kitchen, she heard Paige's throaty laughter in the foyer.
'Well, well, well. If this isn't my lucky day. Tell me. Have you boys ever considered a sexual threesome?'
Susannah quickly made her way toward the foyer. She heard Mitch give a chuckle that sounded thin at the edges. 'Sorry, cupcake, I only work solo.'
'It figures. I'll bet you leave your socks on, too.'
Susannah arrived in time to see Paige sauntering over to Yank. 'Feeling left out, slugger?' She began to move closer, only to have him shoot out his hand and grasp hers, giving it a solid shake that effectively kept her at arm's length.
'It's good to see you again, Paige.'
Paige's presence proved a welcome distraction. She picked up their somber mood, but she didn't ask any questions. Herding them into the kitchen, she began putting together a platter of cold cuts and making sandwiches.
Paige's position as a major FBT stockholder prevented them from discussing the crisis that was uppermost in their minds, but all of them seemed to welcome the respite. The next day would be soon enough for them to pick over the bones and see what they could salvage.
Yank was quiet and distracted throughout the meal. In contrast, Mitch teased and bantered with Paige as if he hadn't a care in the world. Once again Susannah wondered what it was about her sister that produced such a transformation in her stodgy partner.
Over scoops of vanilla ice cream smothered with homemade butterscotch syrup, Paige shifted her attention to Yank. She gave him a mischievous smile. 'Do you know why female pygmies don't like to wear tampons?'
'Oh, Lord,' Susannah groaned, losing interest in her ice cream.
Paige waved her to be quiet while Yank appeared to think over the answer. When nothing was forthcoming, she leaned toward him. 'They trip on the strings.'
Mitch chuckled. Yank's forehead wrinkled as if he were trying to sort out the physics of the whole thing.
'Paige, that's gross,' Susannah protested.
The three of them gave her varying looks of disapproval, until she felt like an old maid schoolteacher with a prim mouth and chin whiskers. Slapping down her napkin, she got up from the table. 'You people can party all night if you want to, but I'm going to bed. There's a cleaning lady coming in the morning, so leave the dishes.'
Mitch stood up. 'It's getting late. I think I'd better be getting to bed, too.'
Paige lifted one eyebrow mischievously. 'Why not climb in with Susannah? Now there's a combination of live- wire personalities guaranteed to set the sheets on fire. I'll bet the two of you could bring up the temperature of a bedroom-oh, maybe one and a half degrees.'
'Paige, shut up, why don't you?' She scowled at her sister and escorted Mitch to the door. Even though she knew it was silly, Paige's taunt had made her self-conscious. 'In my office at eight on Monday, okay?'
He nodded and deposited a chaste kiss on her forehead. 'You take care, hear? We'll work things out.'
She shut the door behind him and walked upstairs to her bedroom. If only it were that easy.
In the kitchen below, Paige made a great show out of clearing the table. With far more force than was necessary, she snatched the dessert bowl out from under Yank.
He gently clasped her wrist. 'You were rude to your sister.'
'I'm always rude to Susannah. She wouldn't recognize me if I turned nice.'
He maintained his grasp on her wrist. To punish him, she deliberately dropped down into his lap, where she wedged herself between the edge of the table and his thin, wiry body. 'How's the celibacy trip going, lover boy? Ready to break your fast yet?' She wiggled the tip of her fingernail in between two of the buttons on his shirt and lightly scratched his bare skin.
He removed her hand.
She sighed dramatically and extracted herself from his lap. 'Whenever I'm around you, I feel like Mary Magdalene trying to tempt Jesus.'
'It's not the right time, Paige.'
'And you're not the right man.' She had intended to say the words lightly, but they came out with a sharp, vicious edge. She tried to cover up with a laugh, but it rang hollow.
He came up behind her as she walked over to the sink. 'Please don't worry.'
'Who me? Not a chance.'
'Everything's quite difficult now. We have a crisis.'
'Not my problem, slick. And by the way, our deal is off as of right now.'
'That's not a good idea.'
'Stick it, okay? I'm serving notice. Before the month is over, I'm going to tumble your good-looking buddy into a big double bed and screw his brains off.'
He stood absolutely still. 'You want to go to bed with Mitch?'
'Wouldn't any woman in her right mind?'
She waited for some reaction, prayed that he would yell at her or shake her or tell her he'd lock her in a room before he'd see her go back on the promise she'd made. Instead, he regarded her with great seriousness. And then to her astonishment, he leaned back in his chair and smiled in the deeply satisfied manner of a man who has the world under his absolute control.
'As long as it's Mitch, it's all right.'
She wanted to slap his geeky, nearsighted face. He might just as well have stabbed a fingernail file right through the center of her heart. At that moment, she hated him, and so she gave him her bitchiest cat's smile. 'Wanna watch?'
For a moment he looked so thoughtful that she wondered if he was actually considering the idea, but then he patted her arm and, as he got up to leave, told her she needed a good rest.
That night as she climbed into the guest-room bed, she heard the echo of the devil's laughter.
Sam's resignation lay on Susannah's desk when she arrived at work Monday morning. She stared down at it, unwilling to touch it with her fingers. The neat black and white letters swam in front of her eyes. She pushed the paper away and covered it with a folder. For now, at least, she would pretend that it didn't exist.
She managed to postpone the board meeting for another week while she brought in her key security people to begin tracing Edward Fiella, the engineer Sam suspected of being responsible for the bad code. Stressing the need for secrecy until they made a public announcement about the failures, she also had checks run on every employee at both SysVal and Dayle-Wells who had had any contact with the faulty ROM chip.
She spent the weekend preparing for the board meeting she had called for the following Monday. In hopes that bad news might be received better if it came in a brightly colored package, she dressed that morning in a hot pink suit draped at the neck with a boldly patterned Matisse scarf she had bought in the gift shop at San Francisco's Museum of Modern Art.
