Marriage Confidential Page 5

  She glanced around at what appeared to be an average concrete parking garage without the typical foul odors. Only five parking spaces were occupied, all of them with luxury vehicles. She recognized a sporty Porsche crossover in smoke gray and the sexy lines of a deep blue Lamborghini. She couldn’t name the other three without taking a closer look. Wherever they were, the neighbors were apparently as wealthy as Sam.

  Her feet ached from the high heels as he led her toward an elevator in the corner. “Sam, I really should go.” If she slept without removing the heavy makeup on her face, she’d wake up looking like something from a bad horror movie. That would be mortifying and a certain end to their friendship, just in case lying about the marriage hadn’t done that already. “I need—”

  The elevator doors parted automatically at their approach and she glanced around for the motion sensor, forgetting her protest.

  “Intrigued?” His lips twitched in a smirk. “What do you need, Madison?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

  You. Thankfully, she bit back that absurd, knee-jerk response. “My apartment,” she managed. “I’m sure your place is...” The elevator opened to a penthouse and the sparkling nighttime view of San Francisco stole her breath. “Oh, Sam.” She couldn’t stop herself from walking in, admiring everything in sight.

  “You like it?”

  It wasn’t anything she imagined his home might be. Not the casual mess that always surrounded his work space at school. Of course it wouldn’t be like that. He was a man now, a lauded expert at the top of his industry. The position obviously paid well. The furniture had a lived-in feel, modern, clean lines without feeling too stark or glossy or new. Nothing in her fantasies had prepared her for this, for seeing him in this kind of space. She could happily snuggle into the corner of that big couch next to Sam and forget there was a world out there that needed them.

  Exasperated with herself, she wondered if anything would smother the torch she’d carried for him all this time. He’d never given her the first signal that he thought of her in a romantic way. Unlike his business partner, Rush, there was never a whisper of Sam having any romantic ties. Maybe that was why her heart was so stubbornly locked on to him.

  She forced her gaze away from the stunning view and faced him. “I need to go home.” Staying here would be unbearable. He’d already commented on her lack of composure. “I need my space and my things.”

  “Let me guess?” He started typing into his phone. “Toothbrush and toothpaste. Do you still prefer that striped brand you used when we were kids?”

  “Pardon me?” How did he know what brand of toothpaste she’d used in high school?

  “My bathroom is surely lacking.” He held out the phone to her. “Put in whatever you need and it will be here within the hour.”

  “No.” It was closing in on one in the morning. She jerked her hands behind her back and clutched the handle of her briefcase. “No, thank you. Take me home, please.”

  His gaze narrowed and his brown eyes were calculating something as he studied her from head to toe. His thumbs flew over the surface of his phone and then he pocketed the device.

  Before she could react to that, he’d slipped a hand around her elbow. “Take off your shoes.”

  “Take me home.”

  His jaw clenched, but his touch remained gentle. “I didn’t blow your secret out of the water tonight, did I?”

  “No.” She tried to smile. “I appreciate that more than I can say.”

  “Thank me by listening for a minute. Your feet need a break from the shoes.”

  “You can’t know that.” How did he know that?

  “Take them off,” he said. “And follow me.”

  She gave in, stifling a whimper when the cool hardwood floors soothed the soles of her feet. He guided her toward the kitchen, pausing to pull out two bottles of water. He opened both and handed her one. Without a word, he continued on toward an office.

  This was where he lived, she realized immediately. He enjoyed the front room, but here she saw signs of the Sam she remembered. The big corner desk with three monitors and an ergonomic keyboard was cluttered with files and books, spiral notebooks and pencils and countless small toys mixed in with various awards. His masculine scent drifted through the air.

  One wall was all windows, the spectacular view currently muted by a sheer shade. In a corner was a tall, antique secretary desk, outfitted with a slim laptop, a pen and notebook and none of the clutter. A padded executive chair held a point of honor at the corner desk and a smaller version of the same chair was positioned in front of the antique.

  He sat down at the corner desk and brought his computer to life. “I assume you have your own computer, but I’d rather you used the laptop over there. You can start your report while we wait for the delivery to arrive.”

  She barely remembered mentioning the report. Her firm boundaries crumbled with every minute she spent with him. “Sam, it’s late and you’re losing me.” Whatever his mind had moved on to, she needed more of an explanation.

  “I doubt that,” he said absently. “You want to go home. I understand.” He stood up and took the briefcase from her hand. “Drink your water. In a few minutes you’ll see why going home is a bad idea.”

  She started for the opposite chair because her feet were tired, stopping short when several images popped up on his monitors. Her grip tightened on the pebbled leather of the chair’s headrest as she recognized what he’d done. “You had Jake drive by a string of traffic cams when you thought we were followed.”

  “That’s right. Rush and I worked up the protocol when we realized we couldn’t rely on blind luck all the time. We were being followed,” he added.

  She ignored that, more concerned about the next step. “The transportation or police departments don’t mind you hacking in for a look?”

  “They never caught me when I did, but now I don’t have to.”

  She didn’t ask, just in case knowing the details turned her into an accomplice. She drank her water while he used various views, zooming in on the driver and passenger in the dark sedan that had tailed the limo unerringly from the museum until Jake lost them long enough to duck into the building. “Those two are part of the security force at the Vietnamese consulate. Why would they follow us?”

  That brought the full weight of Sam’s attention back to her. “Vietnam? You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “In case you haven’t kept up, things are as dicey as ever between China and Vietnam. I’ve been working on keeping things cordial all year long.”

  “You didn’t introduce me to any Vietnamese diplomats tonight,” Sam said.

  “They weren’t invited to the private viewing of the exhibit. Tonight was China and America only.” Had someone spilled her marriage news to someone in the Vietnamese consulate? Even if that had happened, it didn’t explain being followed. “I don’t understand this.”

  “Why work so hard to stick with us?”

  She knew his query was rhetorical. Good thing, since she didn’t have an answer.

  “What’s your address?” He tugged his tie loose and popped open the top two buttons of his shirt while he waited for her reply.

  She answered, surprised by the polite question when she knew he could look it up online in seconds. It didn’t take long before he’d pulled up views of street corners. He took his time while she watched over his shoulder as he searched for the car that had tailed them. “You think they’re waiting for me to come home?”

  “Time will tell.”

  At this hour speculation wouldn’t get them anywhere. Even without the shoes, her feet were starting to cramp. Making a note in her phone so she wouldn’t forget to bring up this detail at tomorrow’s meeting, she decided that home or not, her mind and body needed rest. “Do you have a guest room?”

  “Yes.” Standing, he shrugged out of his tuxedo coat and folded it over the chair in front of the antique desk. “This way.”

  They walked through the central room, past the floor-to-ceiling windows and glorious view to the opposite side of the condo. There were two bedrooms connected by a luxurious bathroom. On the counter an array of skin care and bath products had been set out.

  “Thanks,” she said. It was a weak substitute for the miles of gratitude she wanted to show him. “I don’t want to know how you managed this.” She hadn’t heard a delivery arrive or anyone moving through the condo. It was a little freaky.

  “I’ve developed some connections through the years. You’ll find pajamas and casual clothes on the bed. Hopefully something will fit. I had to guess your size.” His gaze swept over her once more and her body responded with a flash of heat. “What time do you need to be at the office?”

  “Weekend meetings start at ten.” She nearly whined when she noticed it was just past two.

  He nodded and his eyebrows came together in that familiar way whenever he crunched numbers. “That gives me some time to work. I’ll make arrangements for breakfast and factor in a stop at your place.”

  “Great.” She couldn’t muster another protest tonight. It would only fall on deaf ears anyway. “Good night, Sam.” She wiggled her fingers and he left the bathroom, shutting the door on his way out. Turning to the supplies on the counter, she removed her makeup, pampered her skin and brushed her teeth, all the while wrestling with the concept of anyone having cause to follow her.

  Ready for bed, she cracked the door a bit and confirmed she was alone. On the queen-size bed she found a lavender camisole, matching shorts and an oversize sleep shirt in a deeper hue. Like the items in the bathroom, everything here was bran
d-new. What kind of staff or assistant did he have that he could summon up toiletries and clothing with a text message in the middle of the night? Taking the tags off the sleep shirt, she stripped off her dress and lingerie. The soft cotton fabric was bliss against her skin. Pulling back the covers, she smoothed a hand over the finest sheets, wondering if Sam had chosen them or left the decision to a decorator.

  Unlike most nights when she grappled with the events of the day and the uncertainties of tomorrow, Madison fell asleep within moments of her head touching the pillow.

  Chapter Four

  Back on what he considered his side of the condo, Sam mentally turned and flipped the various pieces of the puzzle that made up Madison Goode. If anyone had told him a woman like her would use him as a fake husband, he’d call them crazy. He had it on good authority that no woman in her right mind wanted to waste a lifetime with a man as introverted, self-involved and work-centric as Sam. He supposed he understood her reasoning for calling him husband about as much as she understood his extensive resources and willingness to use them for her.

  Did that give them common ground or was it an insurmountable divide? “Doesn’t matter,” he reminded himself aloud. He’d answered the call of a friend and done what he could to help her. End of story.

  Aside from the challenges posed by the hacker, the small, personal moments of the evening replayed in his mind as he changed clothes in his bedroom. Her small touches, the knowing looks. It had been for show, he knew that. Still, the straight, glossy hair and the shape of her legs in that killer dress had left a lasting impression. For the rest of his days, he would remember her floral perfume weaving around them as they danced.

  Exasperated with his foolishness, he dumped the tuxedo in the bag for the dry cleaner and pulled on comfortable shorts and a T-shirt sporting the logo of the gym where he boxed a few times each week. He removed his contacts and slipped his glasses into place. He wasn’t an evening-wear kind of man. Although he could pull it off once a year as required, he was far more content at home like this, with the company of his computers.

  He sat down at his desk and started researching the people he’d met tonight. How did Madison know he didn’t sleep well or often? He couldn’t recall making that confession to her when they were kids. Maybe she’d picked it up from an interview, except he wasn’t prone to sharing such personal details with reporters.

  Pushing that distraction to the back of his mind, along with the persistent awareness that an interesting, beautiful woman was sleeping in his guest room, he turned his mind to the issues that had dragged him into her world and opened windows for several searches.

  He ran a search on the car that tailed them from the museum and confirmed the registration information linked back to the Vietnamese consulate. Identifying the men wasn’t his priority. Madison’s recognition was enough for his needs. He printed out the information so she could take it to her morning meeting.

  Setting a timer, he limited himself to another hour of research before he called it a night. He’d planned to work out an insulating layer of protection for the museum at the Gray Box offices, but leaving her here alone didn’t sound like the right decision for a husband to make.

  Husband. The weight and responsibility of the word settled across his shoulders, even though she was only a casual friend in truth.

  He understood her explanations, especially after seeing her in action this evening. He hadn’t missed the sideways looks aimed at both of them amid all the polite smiles and kind words. He fisted his hand around the pen he held, remembering the way some of the reception attendees had ogled Madison. He tossed the pen down. Good grief, he’d been a fake husband for a few hours and he was already possessive. He supposed it was a design flaw in his brain, reading too much into one encounter and not picking up enough of the right cues in another.

  Sam tugged off his glasses and pressed his fingers to his eyes, willing himself back on track. If he wasted any more time dwelling on Madison’s cover story, he’d never get any sleep. He needed to be on his toes tomorrow at the office. Though he was tempted to share the news of his “marriage” with Rush in an email or text message, his best friend deserved better.

  Replacing his glasses, he picked up the pen and resumed his research into the history—recent and old—between the United States, China and Vietnam. There had to be a better motive than mere mischief to explain the hacker’s timing and his choice of targets. With every layer Sam peeled back, he marveled at Madison’s patience. The politics and cultural differences overwhelmed him. It was like trying to use an ever-changing set of rules to sort and read the unspoken communication among strangers at a party. Given a choice, Sam would always prefer the cut and dried logic of computers over people.

  When his timer went off, he made a few notes, backed up his work on a private server and then checked the security feeds in and around his building. The team from the Vietnamese consulate had double parked across the street from the building’s main garage entrance. “Nice work, guys,” he muttered to the screen. His address wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t advertise it either.

  Just over three years ago, Rush had forced him to spend more time away from the office, supposedly for his mental health. Unwilling to deal with nosy neighbors or community associations, Sam had found a building he could remodel and design to his strict, personal privacy standards. He had room here for his growing car collection as well as an entire floor where he could play with computer builds, operating systems and virus solutions, as well as develop and test new ideas.

  His decision had made the city happy, Rush happy and, most of the time, himself happy. Tonight wasn’t one of those times.

  For several minutes Sam watched the men in the car, debating between reporting the bad parking and sending down a couple of coffees. Yawning, he decided it wasn’t time to rattle the saber. No one without a code could get into his building without tripping at least one electronic or physical alarm. Satisfied they were isolated and safe, he dimmed the lights in his office and retreated to his bedroom.

  * * *

  Saturday, June 11, 6:20 a.m.

  SAM WOKE THREE hours later, ten minutes before his alarm sounded, with an idea for covering the gap in the museum security blasting through his brain. He went to his office, wrote it out and did a quick test. Pleased, he sent it to Rush for review.

  By half past seven he’d showered and shaved and had the coffee brewing. The team in the car had gone and Sam couldn’t identify any replacements. Maybe they’d given up or found answers elsewhere. So far he hadn’t heard a peep from the guest room. The security system would have alerted him if she’d left. He should have confirmed the schedule for today. Then he wouldn’t be standing here wondering how much time she needed to prep for her meeting.

  He wished he knew how she took her coffee. When they were in school, she’d always had a Diet Coke nearby. Not an item he stocked. At their reunion, he’d seen her with a mimosa at brunch and a cosmopolitan in the evening. Maybe she didn’t drink coffee at all. Rather than make another crazy list for a delivery that covered all bases, he decided to wait and ask her first.

  Filling a tall mug with piping hot coffee, black as sin, he called himself out on going overboard to impress her last night. Regardless of her reasons or intentions, she’d outed them as married and he’d been compelled to put the right foundation under the illusion. Once people put his face with her ruse, they would have to follow through with the charade as a couple until they could pin down the hacker and the spotlight moved on to someone else. He’d tried to point out that fact last night and she’d avoided the topic. He couldn’t give her that kind of leeway today. They had to have a plan in place before either of them left the building again.

  The signal chimed that the paper had been delivered downstairs. Although he subscribed to the online edition as well, he still liked the feel of the newspaper in his hands first thing in the morning on the weekends. He checked the security camera views from the drop-down monitor in the kitchen, then took the elevator down to the lobby to pick up the paper.

  When he returned, Madison was waiting for him in the kitchen, her gaze shifting from the monitor to the elevator door. “Nice setup,” she said.