Flash Page 4

  Olivia set her cup down on Zara’s drafting table. “Let’s try it.”

  “You got it.” Bolivar went to stand at the control panel.

  Olivia walked to the six-and-a-half-foot-high entrance of the blue cave and peered into the depths of the plastic foam construct. The fake cavern walls shimmered with a weird blue light.

  “Give me the full range of special effects, Bolivar. Lights, sound, and the stupid fog. I want to see the whole show.”

  Bolivar flipped switches on the panel. “Here we go. I give you Merlin’s Cave.”

  Olivia stepped into the artificial cavern. She was quickly enveloped in the futuristic blue light. The strange glow turned hazy as the fake fog swirled from concealed jets.

  “Creepy enough for you?” Bolivar called.

  “Pretty eerie, all right,” Olivia admitted. She moved deeper into the cave.

  The imitation stone walls had been painted by one of the freelance artists who contracted with Light Fantastic. The woman specialized in faux and trompe l’oeil finishes.

  Olivia was pleased with the final result. The stone-textured surface of the interior of the cave was satisfyingly rocky in appearance.

  A short distance past the entrance, the cavern curved abruptly, cutting off the view of the studio outside. Olivia studied her surroundings with a critical eye.

  It was not Hollywood or Disneyland, but it was good, she decided. The client would be pleased

  The mist thickened, and the light grew more ominous. She looked at her hands and noticed that the strange glow had turned her skin an otherworldly color.

  She walked around another corner and stepped into the center of the cave. On the night of the event a half-dozen computer stations would be installed to allow guests to experiment with the latest versions of Camelot Blue wizardry.

  “Give me the storm sequence,” Olivia called.

  “Here goes.” Bolivar’s voice was muffled by the cave walls.

  Haunting electronic music swelled. Wind blew. Thunder drummed in the distance. Arrows of blue light crackled overhead and underfoot. The hazy mist thickened. It reflected the glow, intensifying the aura of sorcery.

  Olivia was engulfed in the special effects. The dancing lights pulsed with the electronic music in a dazzling, intricate pattern that had a mesmerizing effect.

  “Well, shoot,” she muttered. “I’m going to have to give Bolivar and Zara another raise.”

  Bolivar had gone a bit overboard on the fog, she decided. It was getting noticeably thicker by the second. She waved a hand to clear away some of the misty stuff.

  “Turn off the fog, Bolivar. I can’t see a thing.”

  There was no response. She realized he could not hear her above the music and the sounds of the gathering storm.

  “Bolivar, shut off the fog.”

  The vapor grew denser. The lenses of her glasses misted. She realized that she could no longer make out the outlines of the fake rock walls.

  She removed her glasses and wiped the lenses on her sleeve. When she put them back on they immediately clouded over a second time. It was like being trapped inside a blue cotton candy machine, she thought. Everything around her was concealed in a fuzzy, dark turquoise mist.

  The music soared, a high-tech electronic symphony with strong Celtic themes.

  Irritated, she groped her way toward the exit. At one point she flung out a hand and made contact with a wall. Her knuckles scraped against the rough surface.

  “Ouch.” She winced and shook her bruised fingers. Gingerly she made her way by touch along the twisting corridor that led to the mouth of the cave.

  She rounded a corner.

  And froze when she saw the dark figure looming in the glowing mist.

  “Bolivar?”

  But she knew it was not her cousin. Even with vapor-shrouded glasses she could see that whoever he was, this man was too tall, too broad across the shoulders, too overwhelming in every way to be Bolivar.

  Please don’t let him be a potential client. The runaway fog would not make a good impression, she thought. Belatedly it occurred to her that he might be from the Camelot Blue publicity department come to check on progress.

  Her business instincts surged to the fore. She rallied swiftly.

  “A small problem with the fog machine,” she said in her most reassuring tones. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll have it adjusted in no time.”

  Blue mist swirled around the man as he moved toward her. “I’m told there’s a mechanical problem. The young man at the controls asked me to come in and guide you out. He said that by now your glasses would be fogged up.”

  Perhaps because she could not make out his features, she was acutely conscious of his voice. It was imbued with a deep, dark resonance that vibrated along her nerve endings. He spoke softly, but she could hear him quite clearly through the ancient music.

  Instinctively she removed her glasses again. She batted impatiently at the seething mist. It parted just long enough to reveal a magician’s enigmatic eyes and severe, ascetic features.

  Merlin had returned to his cave.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “I’m Sloan.”

  A strange shiver shot down her spine. The glowing blue vapor seemed to intensify. She waved her hands frantically to clear her view.

  “Darn it, I told Bolivar it was a mistake to go for the romantic atmosphere,” she said.

  “It usually is.”

  He gripped her arm with powerful fingers and led her out of the mist-filled cavern into the light of day.

  4

  He had done business with plenty of women in the past, but he knew in his gut that this time things would be different. This woman was different.

  Jasper paused briefly in the doorway of Olivia’s small office. He barely managed to suppress a groan.

  The desk was piled so high with papers, notebooks, and invoices that he could not see the surface. There were more papers on top of the computer.

  On the other side of the room a file drawer stood open. The folders inside were crammed willy-nilly with documents. More folders, apparently waiting to be filed, were stacked perilously high on top of the cabinet. The air of busy clutter made him want to grind his teeth.

  Without a word he made his way through the crowded space. He went to stand at the glass window that looked out over the studio.

  The fact that his new business partner had no respect for order and organization was the least of his problems, he told himself. Of far more immediate concern was this intense, edgy awareness that arced through him. The office seemed very small with the two of them in it. He felt as if he stood in the center of a small electrical storm. Invisible energy crackled in the air.

  Behind him he heard Olivia close the door. He glanced over his shoulder and watched her circle around behind her desk. As far as he could tell, she appeared blithely unaware of the sizzle in the atmosphere.

  He had to fight the urge to watch every move she made. Something about her fascinated him. Probably the fact that she owned forty-nine percent of his new company, he thought grimly. This is business, not sex. Get the right message to the hormones before they do something really, really stupid here.

  It had been sheer curiosity as much as his innate desire for information that had led him to stop at the Seattle Public Library before making his way to Light Fantastic today. He had found the year-old edition of West Coast Neo magazine and read the piece Crawford Lee Wilder had written about Logan Dane and his so-called Dark Muse.

  Wilder had got it all wrong, Jasper decided. Olivia Chantry was not an arrogant, imperious, ball-busting Amazon with predatory marketing instincts. She was a sharp, intelligent, vital woman who gave off sexual sparks.

  He swiftly reviewed the facts in the magazine article and compared them with the flesh-and-blood woman in front of him. He concluded immediately that Crawford Lee Wilder had probably been secretly intimidated by Olivia. The strength in her had obviously been more of a challenge than Wilder co
uld handle. The journalist had taken his revenge by turning her into a notorious part of the Logan Dane legend.

  She was tall, Jasper noted. In a pair of heels she would look him straight in the eye.

  Her height and slender figure did interesting things to the long lines of her fluidly draped menswear-style trousers. The pale lime green linen shirt fell elegantly over small, firm breasts.

  The sculpted line of her shoulders and spine, together with the easy, energetic way she moved, hinted at the benefits of a regular physical fitness routine. She might be careless about her filing habits, he reflected, but she looked as though she was highly disciplined about her workout.

  Goal-oriented. Like himself, he thought.

  Her interesting, fine-boned face was framed by glossy red-brown hair that she wore in a casual twist. The sleek designer frames of her glasses emphasized the perceptive awareness in her wide hazel-green eyes.

  Jasper sighed. He knew only too well that it was his dangerous lot in life to be attracted to intelligent women. The older he got, the more pronounced the taste had become.

  “Sorry about the greeting you got when you arrived. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Olivia waved a graceful hand to indicate the busy scene on the opposite side of the windowed wall. “We’ve got four major events coming up in quick succession. One of them is a reception for Camelot Blue investors and clients.”

  He inclined his head. “That explains the giant glowing blue sword-in-the-stone and the fake cave.”

  “Uh-huh.” She sprawled lightly in her chair. The casual pose belied the glint of wary assessment with which she watched Jasper.

  “What else is on the schedule?” he asked politely.

  “Let’s see.” She held up one hand and ticked off items on her fingers. “We’ve got the annual Silver Galaxy Foods Night event, which will be an overnight cruise this year. A fund-raiser for Eleanor Lancaster—”

  He raised his brows. “As in Eleanor Lancaster, the candidate for governor?”

  “One and the same.”

  That event had to have been a major coup for Light Fantastic, he thought. The conventional wisdom and virtually every newspaper pundit in the state were busy predicting that Eleanor Lancaster would easily win the election. The event firm that produced her fund-raisers would be in a very nice position when the client became Governor Lancaster.

  “I’m impressed,” he said.

  “Don’t be.” Olivia gave him a cheerful, conspiratorial grin. “I’ve got an inside track. My brother, Todd, is her policy consultant and speechwriter.”

  “Convenient.”

  She raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Business is business.”

  He wondered how far she took that bit of philosophy. What exactly had she done with the fortune in Logan Dane paintings that Crawford Lee Wilder claimed she had inherited after Dane got run over by a bull?

  “I think I’ve got invitations to every event you’ve mentioned so far,” he said.

  “Planning to attend any of them?”

  “No. I don’t get out a lot.”

  Olivia looked amused. “You’ll probably be invited to the last big production on my list this summer, too.”

  “What is it?”

  “The annual Glow, Inc., company picnic.”

  He smiled slightly. “You’re right. I expect to be on the guest list. And I will definitely attend that event.”

  He turned back to the view out the office window. There was a fair amount of purposeful activity taking place in the studio, he noticed. An array of tools, art supplies, and electrical equipment littered the floor. The young man who had been introduced as Bolivar Chantry was deep into the guts of the control panel that had recently gone awry.

  Zara Chantry was busy at the drafting table. Her wealth of golden blond hair glowed in the light that filtered through the huge factory loft windows behind her. Jasper wondered why she looked vaguely familiar.

  Two androgynous figures, both artistically thin and terribly trendy, were at work in one corner. They appeared to be constructing huge foil flowers for a large silver foil vase. Jasper recalled that the pair had been introduced as Bernie and Matty. He was not positive which name went with which person, though. Maybe when he figured out which was the male and which was the female he’d get that part straight.

  “Have a seat,” Olivia said behind him.

  “Thank you.” Jasper turned to survey the one unoccupied chair in the office. It was heaped with a variety of vendors’ catalogs.

  Olivia followed his gaze. “Sorry about that.” She started to get to her feet. “I’ll clear those off for you.”

  “Never mind. I’ll handle it.” He picked up the stack of catalogs and hesitated briefly while he considered his few available options. There was no place to set his burden.

  “Just put them on the floor,” Olivia said carelessly. She held up her latte cup. “Coffee? This came from the café downstairs, but I can make some for you, if you like.”

  He glanced at the gleaming black industrial-sized coffee machine in the corner as he sat down. “No thanks. I had some earlier.”

  “So did I.” She took a deep swallow and set the cup down. “But I’ve been mainlining the stuff lately. The past few weeks have been murder.”

  For some reason Jasper had a sudden vision of his battle for life on the Pelapili cliffs. “An interesting choice of words.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He watched her lean back in her chair. She propped both feet on the edge of her desk and stacked her heels. The cuffed legs of her trousers fell gracefully away from her slender ankles. He hoped she would not light up a cigar.

  “Yes,” he said. “I know what you mean.”

  A cool, critical gleam lit her eyes. “Ever since we got the news about Uncle Rollie and Wilbur, I’ve been swamped.”

  “I apologize for not getting back to Seattle more quickly. I only got word of your uncle’s death a couple of days ago.”

  “Your office said you were out of touch.”

  “Sort of. I was supposed to be on an extended vacation.”

  She did not appear to be appeased by that explanation, but she let it go. “It was a shock.”

  “The deaths of your uncle and his friend? Yes, it was.”

  “Rollie and Wilbur Holmes were more than friends. They were together for nearly forty years. Absolutely devoted to each other.”

  “I believe your uncle once said something about Wilbur Holmes owning an art gallery?”

  “That’s right. Wilbur sold it last year, though.” Olivia sighed. “He and my uncle planned to do more traveling.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll miss them both.” She picked up her coffee cup and raised it in a small salute. “They were a couple of the good guys.”

  “I never met Wilbur Holmes, but I got to know your uncle a little. I respected his business skills and his sense of the market. He was a valuable client.”

  “Yes, I imagine he was.” She smiled a little too sweetly. “Glow’s profits have started to climb again in recent months. But I suppose you already know that.”

  “I’m aware of that fact, yes.”

  “All that money Uncle Rollie poured into research and development a while back is finally starting to pay off. Glow is poised to move out of its regional niche. It’s on the brink of becoming a major player in state-of-the-art light technology.”

  Olivia’s lecturing tone told him that she had decided to cast him in the role of the outsider who needed to be brought up to speed. The tactic was a not-so-subtle one designed to put him firmly in the role of the junior partner in this relationship.

  He decided it was time to flex a little muscle.

  “It was my money that good old Uncle Rollie used to finance Glow’s R&D expansion.” He smiled slightly. “But I guess you already know that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You mean, it was your company that lined up the investor financing for the expansion.”

  “No,�
�� Jasper said very deliberately. “That’s usually the way I work, but in the case of Glow, I was the sole investor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was my own, personal money that went into the R&D expansion.”

  Her answering smile was as bright as a highly polished rapier. “Tell me, is it customary for a venture capitalist such as yourself to arrange to inherit half of the client’s company in the event the client dies?”

  “Venture capitalism is just what the name implies. Capital for high-risk projects. People come to us when they can’t get funding from mainstream banks and lending institutions. Loan repayment arrangements vary. I try to be creative.”

  She raised her brows. “Your arrangement with my uncle was certainly creative. You wound up owning half the company.”

  “I should probably point out that I did not inherit half of the company,” he said very evenly. “I inherited fifty-one percent. Controlling interest. For all practical purposes, I own Glow.”

  “So Winchmore said.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. Her jaw tightened. Her cool smile, however, did not waver. “Well, partner, you’ll need a quick rundown on the status of the situation at Glow, Inc.”

  He was amused by the new attempt to establish herself in the driver’s seat. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I stopped by the Glow offices before I came here today. I told all of my managers that I’ll want an initial status report by tomorrow morning.”

  “I see.” She studied the toes of her stylish silvergray oxfords. “I realize you’ll want to cash out as quickly as possible. No problem. I’ve already talked to Melwood Gill, the chief financial officer at Glow. He says we can put together a generous offer to repurchase your shares in Glow.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Gill. I told him that it won’t be necessary to waste any more time structuring a buyout offer.”

  She went very still. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m not open to an offer,” he said gently. “I don’t want to sell my fifty-one percent of Glow to you or anyone else. I intend to take Rollie’s place as president and CEO of the company.”