Fantasy Man (6 page)

Chapter Nine

In the lower level of his townhouse near Key Biscayne, Vinnie had created an information room. Blackout curtains covered the windows. The French doors leading to the patio were double-insulated and equipped with triple locks. The room had been sound-proofed and wired with its own alarm system. If the alarm was tripped, everything was rigged to self-destruct. Hard drives would be destroyed, data corrupted and made unusable.

Vinnie didn’t back anything up. Ever. His computers scanned for information he programmed into them, searching on auto-pilot twenty-four/seven. If they found what he was looking for, he was notified by a coded message sent to one of several email inboxes.

His information room wasn’t sanctioned by the organization. Certainly not by Pops. Pops didn’t care how Vinnie obtained information. He probably assumed Vinnie was breaking legs or severing fingers like in the old days. Vinnie had never broken a leg or severed a finger, though he’d knocked a couple of heads together when he had to. But he’d discovered methods of extracting information that didn’t involve touching other human beings. No one was safe from Vinnie’s nose.

He was always amazed at the kind of information that could be pieced together about anyone so long as someone was willing to invest the time and the patience. Vinnie’s time was often his own. He had no family he was close to. He’d never seen the point in marrying or having kids. He’d never been in love. He’d discovered prostitutes at a young age. When he was finished with them they left him alone. All in all, he found it an acceptable arrangement. Gave him more time to work.

He unlocked the door and disabled the alarm using a code known only to him. The equipment was all his. The Carboni family had not invested one dime in this technology. Pops was old-fashioned that way. Perhaps the old ways were best for some things, but in the internet age, the old ways were the slow ways.

They could search for Quinn Fontana for a hundred years with a thousand pairs of eyes and never find her. But all she had to do was make one false move, one footprint on the e-trail, and he’d find her. If she was on the run, hiding somewhere, she’d need cash, food, lodging. At some point she’d use an ATM card, or a credit card or a driver’s license. And then…

He took a seat in the ergonomic chair and rolled it up to one of the laptops. He accessed a generic email site and put in his user name and password. He changed his passwords regularly using a system that would only make sense to him. He hoped.

Of course there were hackers far better than him, way more sophisticated, guys who could probably break his codes quickly enough if they wanted to. Which is why he flew under the radar, so to speak. He was careful never to connect anything he did to the Carboni operation.

He heard a rustling behind him and then the scratch of tiny toenails. He smiled as tiny feet grasped the edge of his chair and a pair of inquisitive faces looked up at him “Hi, guys. You two behave yourselves if you’re going to be in here, all right?” Vinnie scooped the ferrets up, one in each hand. They sniffed and wiggled against his chin.

He let them go and they scurried away, chasing each other across the room, looking for trouble.

He checked his various email accounts. Each on a different network, each under a different name, each with a different password.

Nothing…nothing…nothing…

On the fourth one he had an alert from one of his programs. He focused on the subject line. Excitement rushed through him. Had he found Quinn Fontana’s hiding place? What if he could nab her all on his own and present her to Pops?

Something crashed in the other room. Dammit. What had those two knocked over this time? He pushed back from the desk. No doubt he had another mess to clean up.

* * * * *

“You owe me,” Quinn said.

“How do you figure?” Reif asked, incensed.

He’d been dodging Quinn’s attempts to seduce him every night for two weeks now. When he pointedly sidestepped her physically, she tried wheedling and logic. An argument usually ensued which Reif decided was a good thing. While he enjoyed the verbal sparring, he was afraid if she kept it up, she’d wear him down. If she stomped off in a frustrated huff, at least he wasn’t tempted to give in to her.

“You admitted it. That morning, that you were only half awake and didn’t know what you were doing, you weren’t thinking—”

Reif held up a hand. “I know what I said.”

“You don’t want Tony to find out that we slept together.”

“Old news.”

“So, I think you owe me.”

“I think the term you’re looking for is blackmail.”

“No, blackmail is me threatening to tell Tony if you don’t do what I say. This is me telling you I
could
have told Tony but didn’t, so you owe me.”

Reif smirked, amused by the hair splitting. “So what do I owe you?”

“That was my first time with someone who knew what he was doing, even if he was asleep through most of it. And as good as it was, I think I should get to experience what it’s like to be with a man when he’s focused and knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we should go back and do it over again. Just once. Only this time, I want to be treated like a woman you’re actually interested in, not one you just found in bed with you one morning after a few too many. I want to be wined and dined and seduced. One night, but I want you to act like it means something—”

“I never said it didn’t mean anything,” Reif interrupted in weary resignation.

“No, you just said it was a mistake and you felt like you took advantage of me and you’d like to either marry me out of some medieval sense of obligation or forget it ever happened.”

Quinn’s eyes flashed, but it wasn’t with that usual mischievous glint, more like a hint of anger. He’d hurt her with his attitude, his regret about that first morning. What a mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Stop saying that! Do you know how it feels to have the only man you’ve
liked
having sex with constantly apologize for it? You act like it was the worst experience you’ve ever had.”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m thrilled we slept together, that I slept with you without even knowing who you were? I’m not thrilled. Whether you realize it or not I did you an injustice—”

“Said Sir Lancelot.”

“—and I can’t take it back. I can’t undo it. No matter what I do or say, I make things worse.”

Quinn would never understand. He’d abused Tony’s trust, no matter how innocent and unintentional the circumstances. The worst of it all was that the longer Reif was with her, the more time they spent together, the more attracted to her he was and the harder it became to keep his hands off her.

“I want you to stop apologizing to me. I want you to stop regretting that morning, because no matter what you choose to believe, I was in control. All I’m asking for is a repeat performance, except this time I want you to do it right.”

“Do it right?”

“I told you. I want to be romanced. Wined and dined and seduced. I want the full boyfriend experience and I want you to pretend you want me. That’s how you can make it all up to me. If you do this for me, I promise, I will never tell Tony about what happened.”

“And we’re back to blackmail.”

Quinn shrugged, looking innocent and impish at the same time. “What’s with all the definitions? Look at the bigger picture. I’ll back off. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll stop trying to seduce
you
.
So what do you say?”

Reif often thought his brain might explode when he tried to follow Quinn’s logic and her lightning fast changes in mood. She wanted one night with him. Dinner and dancing. One night in his bed with all of his
sober
attention focused on her. Well, that he could almost guarantee, because with her in his bed where else would his attention be?

He was pretty sure his less noble side was in control right now, but so what if it was? If this is what he had to do to make things right with her, to square it all, he supposed he could accommodate her. For the greater good. In fact, he was pretty sure his sanity depended on it. Maybe one night with her would get her out of his system once and for all. Where was the harm?

“Okay. When do you want to do it?”

* * * * *

The following Friday, Reif left the office early, came home, took a shower and got dressed. He’d made reservations at the most romantic restaurant he knew, sent Quinn a dozen red roses earlier in the day and got a haircut.

She’d probably laugh at the roses and tease him for getting a haircut. But he remembered the first time he’d seen the look on his mother’s face when his father showed up after work one night with a bouquet of red roses. It was their anniversary and even though Reif was only seven, he’d never seen his mother look so happy. His parents’ affection and respect for one another had had a lasting impact on his formative years.

Women deserved respect. That’s what he’d learned by the way his father treated his mother and his sisters. Sure, Reif had teased his sisters. When the devil got the better of him, he’d made them cry on more than one occasion, but it always made him feel bad. Then the angel on his other shoulder told him to do whatever it took to make it up to them.

In college he’d been appalled at the way some of his classmates treated girls. And some girls just took it like they didn’t deserve anything better. If a guy treated one of his sisters that way he’d pound him into the ground.

Reif preferred women who knew their own worth, who expected to be treated decently. If that made him old-fashioned, so be it. And if Quinn didn’t appreciate it, there was nothing he could do about that.

He’d told her they needed to leave by eight to make the reservation. He opened a bottle of wine and set out a tray of hors d’oeuvres he’d picked up on the way home. He’d just poured two glasses when he heard Quinn on the stairs. He made himself wait in the living room, listened to the
click click
of her heels on the wood floor. Then she appeared and he had to remind himself to breathe.

He might have known she’d pull out all the stops tonight. She wore a black halter dress that bared her sexy shoulders. The fabric hugged the fullness of her breasts, gave a hint of cleavage, but still left lots to the imagination. Though the dress fell to mid-calf, a slit up one side bared her leg every time she moved. Her barely-there high-heeled sandals revealed a pedicure of red-painted toenails. Her hair was loosely clipped on top, but looked ready to tumble down at even the slightest tug. Her makeup was minimal, but she’d played up her eyes and mouth.

Reif stood there stunned by the overall effect, forgetting that he had a glass of wine in each hand.

As she came toward him all he could do was stare and try to take in every detail at once. When he still didn’t speak she grinned. “Is that for me?” she asked, indicating one of the glasses.

Somehow he got his act together enough to answer. “Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Sure.” He handed her a glass and she raised it in a toast, so he raised his as well.

“What are we drinking to?” she asked. He could see that barely suppressed glimmer of mischief in her eye. She knew exactly what she was doing. Reif began to have an uneasy feeling that this evening wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d led him to believe. But he’d agreed and he couldn’t back out now, could he?

“To…us?” he questioned. “To one night?”

She chuckled. “How about to a long night and an even longer…” she let her gaze drop down the length of him before coming back up to meet his, “…morning.”

She’d aroused him with just that look, and he’d bet money she knew it. “You’re wicked,” he said. “And dangerous.”

She sipped her wine and smiled up at him. “That doesn’t sound like a complaint.”

They somehow managed to sample their glasses of wine and nibble the canapés while keeping the conversation light.

“By the way, thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

“Not half as beautiful as you,” Reif replied. The words were glib, part of the act he was expected to play, but he was surprised to realize he meant it.

She peered at him as if unsure of his sincerity.
Good
, Reif thought.
Let her wonder.
He’d like to think he had just as much ability to keep her off balance as she did with him.

Soon they were off. He opened the car door and handed her in, taking care to see she was settled before closing it, the picture of gentlemanly conduct.
So far, so good
, he told himself.

Dinner went off beautifully, if he did say so himself. Quinn loved the restaurant, the small candlelit tables, the unobtrusive staff, the slow pace of a really expensive eatery. They sipped more wine with their meal, but it was as if each were aware they had no intention of overdoing it. Not after that first encounter. There would be no dulled senses this time. Nothing to take the edge off of the experience.

After dinner they went home, but Reif had planned ahead there as well. He slipped out of his jacket and turned on some prepared music and poured them each some brandy. He handed her a snifter which she tested tentatively. She wrinkled her nose a little, but then smiled as the liquor radiated through her.

“Good, huh?” Reif asked, taking a sip from his.

“Different. I’ve never had brandy before.”

“I like it,” he said, stepping toward her. “It heats things up.”

“Does it now?” she asked, tilting her head back.

He took her glass and set it aside. “Care to dance?” he asked, slipping his arm around her. He didn’t wait for an answer but started to move with the music, taking her with him, entwining his fingers through hers.

She was the perfect height for him. Maybe five-six or so. She’d slipped out of her high heels at the same time he’d kicked off his own shoes. The top of her head reached just below his chin. He closed his eyes, enjoying the silk of her hair against his skin, the spicy scent of whatever perfume she was wearing tonight, the way she felt in his arms. He held her a little closer, feeling her body molded against his, thought he heard a quick intake of breath.