Text Me Part 13

Carter anch.o.r.ed headphones in his ears before starting the treadmill. When he reached the steady pace he liked, he turned up the volume and focused on the lights outside the gla.s.s. They blurred and bounced as he moved. Running outside was one of the primary things he missed while away. In a city this size with traffic, people, and the constant blur of activity, an outside jog would surely put him in the hospital.

Thailand had a zillion charms about it, and he hadn't minded the travel. Almost everywhere were people that had a smidgen of English under their belt, so while he tried to learn the basics of the language, it hadn't hampered him much. The charm could easily be misconstrued as chaos, frenzy, and overcrowding. Not to him.

He loved the way they did business also. People were as driven to succeed-as he was. They worked hard, meticulously applied themselves, and had little tolerance for lack of effort. Not to mention that most of them took their health as serious as their business. Therefore, he had no trouble accessing a gym and working out whenever needed.

The only thing that annoyed him was the music. Pop music in Thailand was nothing like home. More of a dance, electronic thing that made his head throb. He glanced at the time on the treadmill. He'd gone more miles than intended. It was ironic since he had debated not working out when he left the office. He needed something to take his mind off work. And Abby's revelation.

Carter shook his head and kept jogging. Four miles. He'd gone four miles while he mulled over her words. I lied. That's all she said-as if it wasn't a big deal. He could think of a small number of reasons she would withhold Amanda's response to the flowers. Two that made sense. Either she thought he'd be more upset by it and she hadn't wanted to make it worse-or she felt sorry for Amanda. Then there was the thing with Jackson: it wasn't a long time ago. He lifted the towel from the machine and rubbed his head. That didn't take into account Jackson's admission.

There had never been a reason for him to suspect Amanda was involved with someone, yet she was. Of course, his work had been crazy busy so he hadn't paid much attention. More like basking in his overall success. He still felt the kick to his gut when she told him. Now he recognized it as a kick to his ego rather than his heart. It was a kick he probably deserved for being inattentive.

It hadn't compared to when Jackson stunned him by revealing his relations.h.i.+p with Abby. What exactly was that relations.h.i.+p anyway? Jackson said he'd been with her before, but was it after Carter mentioned her? After Jackson knew he was interested? Knowing it was in the past helped a little-but only a little.

When Jackson told him to call Abby, he'd thought the motive sincere. Until she started telling him whatever she had to say. He wasn't up for it. Not again. Amanda was history, but Abby still touched a nerve. If she was involved elsewhere, he wasn't ready to accept it. Not after the way they'd connected during the last weeks. The whole thing blindsided him. Ironic since his friends all thought him notorious for short-term interest in women.

Four and a half miles. His breathing was labored and sweat ran down his neck then trickled along his spine. It reminded him of Abby's fingers as they had trailed there. Dammit.

He hit the Stop b.u.t.ton and headed to the shower before going back to his hotel. A little cold water would do him good. There was a twelve-hour difference between home and Bangkok, which meant he had about forty minutes before his scheduled video conference with Roger. He needed to get his head back in the game and focus. This was the biggest project he'd ever managed, and it was going to be kick-a.s.s. His career depended on it.

His phone signaled a chat message from his new friend and pseudo-counselor.

She Hearts Dogs: Well, leave it to me to screw it all up.

He grinned.

What happened?

He thumb-typed.

She Hearts Dogs: I told him. Why did I do that? I mean you tried to warn me but NO, did I take your advice? Of course not. I blurted it out like an idiot.

Carter checked the time to make sure he could still respond and delved into the chat screen. He wasn't really in the mood but he'd give it his best shot.

Repeat ... what happened?

She Hearts Dogs: He hung up. Mad.

Man, she's really grinding over this and she didn't even do the cheating. n.o.ble. He sighed. What to say? He thought for a second then answered.

He'll get over it once he realizes where the fault belongs. Next time, listen to me. OK?

She Hearts Dogs: OK. Gotta get to work. Bye.

"Good morning," Carter said as Roger joined the conference. Roger had their client, John Gazman, beside him. John waved.

"Good evening to you." Nine p.m. in Bangkok meant Carter was already half a day ahead of Roger and the rest of his team. Roger looked freshly showered and battery-charged, which was about as far from Carter's current state as possible. Still, he'd fake his way through.

"Okay, let's get started." The men jumped into the project plan and talked about the various orders and deadlines required to meet their needs. An hour and half later, John had excused himself. Carter and Roger went over their internal needs, with Carter giving a list of research items, some small a.s.signments for other members of their team and a status report for the board. "So, what's this about Abby's partner?"

Roger stopped tossing a wadded paper and pulled closer to the camera. "Which partner?" He frowned and shook his head, a clear warning to hush.

Carter laughed. "I'm pretty sure there's only one. You know who I'm talking about. She said-"

Roger rolled his chair to look toward his credenza. "What exactly did you say, Abby?"

Carter snapped his mouth shut. Oops. He forgot. With the time change, they were on morning time and right in the middle of plant maintenance. Yikes. He waved sheepishly when she leaned over Roger's shoulder. "Hey, Abby. What d'ya know. There's the pretty little liar in the flesh."

Her gloved hands were filled with a water can and a fertilizer/plant food bag. "Watch it. I could douse your friend here if you provoke me."

Roger crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "Spill that and I'll make him pay."

Abby dropped her brows in a brief glare at the camera before shrugging. "I'm counting on it. I just told him you noticed her. A lot."

Roger rolled his eyes. The chair screeched as he lunged to a stand. "I'm going down the hall to get the team started on this list. You need anything else, just send an e-mail or text me." He held up a stack of papers with scribbled notes, waved it then disappeared.

They were alone. Or at least he thought they were-in two separate rooms, on two separate continents. Just the two of them. And a ticking time bomb.

"Not sure, but I don't think he liked the idea of us talking about him."

"Ya think?" She s.h.i.+fted from one foot to another and set the bag of plant food down in Roger's chair. Hopefully no dirt would spill because Carter was pretty sure Roger had light colored pants on. The man was really into khaki.

"You sure you're not reading it wrong?"

She plopped the water can on the desk, sending a few drops to the floor. "I'm sure." She paused to glance at the door. "You guys use Skype a lot?"

He nodded. "It's a good way to hold a meeting without flying around the globe. It keeps things personal. I use it to talk to a lot of people. If I could get my mom to use a computer, I'd Skype her too."

"She doesn't have one?"

"Oh, she has one. She just never turns it on. What about you, do you ever use video-chat or Skype to visit with family or friends?"

She nodded. "Sometimes. On my tablet. I have family spread out all over, so once in a while we use it. With my business, it's not really necessary."

While she looked fresh and energized, he was anything but. He ran a hand over his head and rubbed his neck. "So, what was it you wanted to tell me? Another one of your big stories? Just curious, is there an organization called Liars Anonymous? 'Cause if there is, you should sign up. You seriously have a problem."

Abby moved the bag of dirt to the floor, dropped into Roger's chair and leaned forward. Even angry, the pixilated image was nice, but he would have preferred the real thing. She sighed. "Look ... whatever you thought about my leaving the other day, it was wrong. I just had to get to work, okay? Don't read anything into my actions."

"Or your words either, right? Got it."

"Okay, got everything," Roger's voice jolted both of them away from the screen.

Abby jumped from the seat, apologized for taking over, and grabbed her things. She tossed an obligatory wave and headed toward the hall.

"Hey, Abs?" Her image had disappeared and Carter wasn't sure if she was gone or not.

"Yeah?"

"Take it a little easier on the next guy, okay? He might not be as easy to let go of you as I am. Oh, and send me your info and I'll be happy to plaster it on the bathroom stalls in the bars around town when I get back."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Wait, I think I still have it." He yanked his wallet open and looked through the pile of receipts and cards. Yeah, it was there. He yanked it out and held up the card, "Got it. Never mind."

"She's already gone," Roger said. "That was fun. You're a real jerk, you know. Good thing you're not here, I might have to kick your a.s.s. You know, this isn't what you think, right? I can explain everything. It's actually a funny story."

"Ha. Ha. You don't know what you're talking about. Doubt you could explain or kick my a.s.s. That woman's a habitual liar. Besides, from what I hear, you're all talk and no action. So, tell me what you have." Carter flipped open the folder in front of him and grabbed a pen to jot notes.

Roger frowned and pursed his lips before he started reading through the information Carter had requested.

They dove back into business mode.

A few mornings later and back on his own turf, Carter glanced at the time on his phone as he hurried toward work. d.a.m.n it. Late. He was never late. Or at least never used to be late. The wind slashed his face as he pa.s.sed the newsstand. He glanced at the front page on each stack, a habit and sometimes his only chance to see what was going on in the world. National news showed nothing. Local news was a family of socialites talking about their family business. Wait. He slammed the brakes on. Was that Abby?

Holy s.h.i.+t, it was. Right in the middle of the group. He grabbed a paper and scanned the text underneath. His stomach dropped. Jennifer Jeffries. As in Jennifer Abigail Jeffries. As in the hateful woman that had gotten him fired months ago, thanks to Jackson's outburst. Seriously? They were the same person? Vile rose in the back of his throat. No way. No fricking way. Well, that explained Jackson's ranting in the meeting-and to think Carter'd been stupid enough to stand up for him.

He strode into the office and slammed the paper on Roger's desk. "Take a look."

Roger jolted. "Good morning to you too."

Carter punched a finger at the picture. "That is Jennifer Jeffries. The Jennifer Jeffries that killed my project and sent me packing. She is also Abby Jeffries, a.k.a. Abigail Jeffries ... a.k.a. Satan."

Roger picked up the paper calmly and shook the page to straighten it. Carter stared at his face which had gone almost as white as the paper. "Um, yeah, that's definitely her. She looks good, don't you think?"

"Good?" Carter thought his head would split open. "Good!" He tried to think of words. None would come. He sputtered for a second, then turned on his heels and strode away.

Chapter Twenty.

Abby tied her running shoes then slipped the ear buds in. The sun hung low over the trees outside. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten in a few miles and she needed it desperately.

Lifting the screen to choose her playlist, she noticed the flash of a chat message. Should she respond? Another glance out the window answered the question. She grabbed her keys and headed to the park.

She planned for three laps and was nearing the end of the second when she looked up. s.h.i.+t. Carter. Good. He's talking to the dog. Maybe he won't notice. If she just took a long drink of water as she pa.s.sed, maybe he'd think she hadn't seen him either? Too late to do a U-turn.

She lifted the bottle and drew on it. Four steps more and she'd be past and could drop the camouflage. She drew another sip and got-air. Rats. Empty. She forced her attention on the pavement and tossed the empty bottle at the trash receptacle as she pa.s.sed.

Yay. Awkwardness over. She picked up the pace to make a fast retreat.

"Hey! Pick that up!"

Ignoring the sound, she slipped an earbud lose but kept running.

"Get back here and pick up your trash, woman."

Abby slowed to a stop and turned to see the empty water bottle roll into the gra.s.s. She'd missed the can. "What's your problem?" She dropped a hand to her hip. Sweat trickled down the side of her face and a light breeze cooled the dampness away.

Carter approached. Abby checked the path behind. Should she back up and run? His face deepened to a ruddy shade.

"I don't have a problem. You do. Do you always toss your trash all over the park and leave it for someone else to trip over? Or maybe for a dog to choke on?" He thrust a forefinger at the empty water bottle that glistened at the edge of the sidewalk. "Pick that up."

When he loomed over, she stumbled backward. "Good grief. It's just a water bottle. I missed. I wasn't trying to put it there."

"Just a water bottle. Right. And if everyone threw them on the ground, the entire park would be covered in trash." He wrapped his fingers around her forearm and yanked her toward the offending bottle. When he stopped, her toes were against it. "Pick it up." He repeated.

Seriously? He was going to force her as if she were ten years old? Not happening. Abby yanked her arm free, stuck her nose in the air, and turned. She took three steps and tossed a response back. "Pick it up yourself if you're gonna get all G.o.dzilla about it."

Abby slipped the earbud in place and increased her speed to get the last lap in before dark. The sun was barely a sliver behind the trees when she rounded the corner and returned to the spot he'd accosted her. She glanced around, half expecting Carter to be there.

He wasn't. Neither was the bottle.

She let out a whoosh of air and relaxed.

Bang. Thunk. Her head stung, then her arms, then-oh my G.o.d. A rain of debris fell over her shoulders and head. Something wet and sticky trailed down her neck then dripped to her arm. Gross. She kicked a few things as she slowed and they bounced and rattled. The clatter startled a group of people standing nearby and their mouths fell open.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Abby whirled to see-Carter's chest. His arms were above his head shaking the contest of the trash receptacle. All over her. She growled and yanked the plugs from her ears. "Are you CRAZY?"

Carter dropped the can to the ground with a thud. "No, just sick of people like you who don't see how every single piece of this adds up. One bottle here. One bottle there. A candy wrapper," he retrieved a McDonald's bag from the ground, "a half-eaten meal. If we all throw our c.r.a.p on the gra.s.s like you, this is exactly what it'd look like. Is that what you want? You happy?"

Abby swiped the goo from her arm and threw it his way, then pulled her s.h.i.+rt free from her slimy, plastered skin. The sucking noise it made a.s.sured her there were plenty of un-empty beverages in that trash pile. "Seems to me this is more about you being happy, isn't it? This isn't-"

"Everything okay here?"

Abby whirled, ready to give the nosey onlooker a piece of her mind. Uh oh. Her face heated. A bicycle cop.

"Yes, sir." Carter's voice held the respect she'd missed earlier. "I mean ma'am. We're fine. Just was trying to help the lady clean up her mess."

Abby hitched a brow and threw him a glaring scowl. "My mess?"

Caroline rolled her eyes while she sc.r.a.ped the box cutter along the cardboard. "So, now you're picking up trash in the park for a month?"

Abby still smelled the garbage though she'd showered twice since. "It was that or pay the $500 littering charge. It's only on Sundays so shouldn't be a problem for work. What else was I supposed to do?"

"And he's going to be there too?"

Hope not. "I don't know. We can show up whenever we want to. I doubt he goes at the same time. He hates me."