Chapter Eleven
Rowan kept re-thinking the events of the last two days as she drove home. She had a nagging feeling that the mindgames played by the Rosewaters were far more serious this time. Something bad was definitely out there somewhere, just below the horizon, just beyond her grasp. Was she the target, she wondered, or the general population? Maybe they had simply gotten more expert at pushing her buttons.
No, she thought. That's not like me to be so spooked without reason. There was something very wrong, gathering itself together. She would have to be ever more vigilent.
It was early evening and starting to rain heavily when she finally pulled into her garage. Rowan was exhausted. The weather matched her mood. She decided not to tell Roger, not wanting to spread her gloom. Perhaps her tiredness was interfering with her analysis of the last forty-eight hours, and sleep would put it all back in perspective.
The young woman unlocked her front door, and dropped her bags in surprise. The living room was aglow with candlelight, scented with dozens of roses. A pair of crystal goblets and a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket were on the the low table by the couch.
"Wha?" she muttered under her breath, "...what the hell is going on?"
Just then Roger came out of the kitchen. He had a big smile on his handsome face. "Welcome home!" he boomed, wrapping his arms around her. He lifted Rowan up, planted a big kiss on her mouth, and set her down on the couch. "We have to celebrate!"
"Boy," Ro replied, "I'm going to leave town more often if this is the result." Though she still felt bone-tired, his cheerfulness was irresistable.
Roger smirked. "Look," he said, handing her an envelope. Inside were two bank checks, one from the Van der Arcs, one from the Mooneys. They totaled an unbelievable twenty million dollars. The fee had been set by the court - one percent of the net income of each company. Both checks had been made out to Roger Smith.
"My god!" Rowan leaned back, shocked. She knew the history of the case (every negotiator in Paradigm did) and had been unsuccessful herself in working out an agreement between some distant cousins of both parties. Disgusted at their childish behavior, Ro had finally refused to handle any more of their requests. She simply would not put up with their soap opera lives. Roger had achieved the impossible. "This is incredible! What did you do? They're such awful people!"
Roger told her, obviously very pleased with himself. Rowan listened intently, laughing with him as he described how it went. She called his solution a stroke of brilliance.
"Roger, I think you've found your calling...and as for this," Ro held up the bank checks, "you're a free man now. Congratulations, Mr. Negotiator." She handed them both back to him.
"Don't you want half?" Roger asked. "After all, they were referred to us, not to me." He filled the slender goblets with champagne and gave one to Ro.
"No," said the young woman. "I would never have accepted the case. You earned this one, one hundred percent. Every other negotiator in town has failed with these idiots, including me. What you did was miraculous. Your reputation is made, sweetheart. Enjoy your success, you deserve it!"
Her pleasure in his achievement shone in her face. She touched the rim of her wineglass to Roger's, then took a sip of the bubbly golden liquid. It was delicious, its alcoholic warmth spreading pleasantly through her weary body. "Roger, you are a genius."
"You really think so, hm?" Smith moved closer to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
"Uh huh." She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him, her eyes closed. Roger looked at her beautiful face, saw the fatigue in the dark shadows under her eyes. What happened out there? he wondered. Why wasn't she talking now abut her mysterious errand?
"Rowan."
"Hmmmn?" She nuzzled his cheek sleepily.
"Where have you been for the last two days?" He felt her stiffen at the question.
"You really don't want to know..." she began, but Roger hushed her with a light kiss on her lips.
"Yes I do," he said. "Besides, we agreed, no secrets between us." He began to massage her shoulders, trying to ease her distress. He could feel the knots in her muscles.
"Okay, you're right." She told him where she'd been and who she treated. Roger was surprised that she'd been willing to treat Gordon Rosewater until she told him why. Smith realized that she was being blackmailed in a sense to take care of the old brute. He had no idea how potentially lethal the synthetic foodstuffs Paradigm depended on were. Roger understood that this alone wouldn't have distressed Rowan so, as it was a frequently repeated situation and thus an old story to her. Something else must have happened. He coaxed her to have a little more champagne, hoping the alcohol would loosen her tongue.
She finally told him of Gordon Rosewater's "gift" and the subsequent conversation with Alex (though she decided not to mention Gordon's book, as she was unsure if it was fact or fantasy.) Ro admitted that she was frightened. Her eyes flashed green fire. "Damn," she growled, "I didn't want to ruin the evening with this stupidity. I'm probably over-reacting to their little headgames. They are both so good at manipulation."
Roger was furious at the Rosewaters, but there was nothing he could realistically do. He knew in his gut that Rowan was right to feel threatened. Despite her proven history as a tough and fearless survivor, she would need someone to watch her back now. Smith vowed to himself to be that person...he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her. He knew she would never ask him for help.
Roger also realized that his lady needed a diversion, preferably something playful, to soothe her troubled spirit. He decided to go for the basics - simple, but effective.
"Rowan, I think you need a little 'r and r.' "
" 'R and r?' " she echoed, puzzled. "What's that?"
"I'll show you," said Roger. Smirking, he took the wineglass from her, seized her hands and led her into the bedroom. He went into the master bath, turning on the shower, and returned to his curious sweetheart. He proceeded to undress Rowan (to feeble protest and much giggling) and then himself. He insisted on bathing her with gentle thoroughness, making it a special point to massage her neck, shoulders, and back.
Rowan found the whole procdure delightful. She wondered where he got the idea, then decided some things were better left unknown.
Getting towel-dried was as delicious as being bathed. Her entire body tingled, glowing with the attention.
Finally, satisfied with his handiwork, Roger gathered Rowan in his strong arms and deposited her in the middle of the silk-covered bed. He laid down beside her.
"Now," he said, putting his arms around her lithe body and pulling her close, "for some r and r." Ro laughed softly...she was so tired and so relaxed she couldn't help herself, and asked, "Roger, what ARE you talking about?"
"You still don't know?" he teased, kissing the top of her nose, then slowly moving his way south with his mouth and hands.
"No," she laughed again, squirming pleasureably under his expert touch.
Roger slid forward, so that they were face to face. His hands gently smoothed her inky hair. He nuzzled her, brushing his lips across her cheek.
"It's this," he whispered in Rowan's ear. "Just me and you, Roger and Rowan. Let the rest of the world go hang."
Rowan kept re-thinking the events of the last two days as she drove home. She had a nagging feeling that the mindgames played by the Rosewaters were far more serious this time. Something bad was definitely out there somewhere, just below the horizon, just beyond her grasp. Was she the target, she wondered, or the general population? Maybe they had simply gotten more expert at pushing her buttons.
No, she thought. That's not like me to be so spooked without reason. There was something very wrong, gathering itself together. She would have to be ever more vigilent.
It was early evening and starting to rain heavily when she finally pulled into her garage. Rowan was exhausted. The weather matched her mood. She decided not to tell Roger, not wanting to spread her gloom. Perhaps her tiredness was interfering with her analysis of the last forty-eight hours, and sleep would put it all back in perspective.
The young woman unlocked her front door, and dropped her bags in surprise. The living room was aglow with candlelight, scented with dozens of roses. A pair of crystal goblets and a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket were on the the low table by the couch.
"Wha?" she muttered under her breath, "...what the hell is going on?"
Just then Roger came out of the kitchen. He had a big smile on his handsome face. "Welcome home!" he boomed, wrapping his arms around her. He lifted Rowan up, planted a big kiss on her mouth, and set her down on the couch. "We have to celebrate!"
"Boy," Ro replied, "I'm going to leave town more often if this is the result." Though she still felt bone-tired, his cheerfulness was irresistable.
Roger smirked. "Look," he said, handing her an envelope. Inside were two bank checks, one from the Van der Arcs, one from the Mooneys. They totaled an unbelievable twenty million dollars. The fee had been set by the court - one percent of the net income of each company. Both checks had been made out to Roger Smith.
"My god!" Rowan leaned back, shocked. She knew the history of the case (every negotiator in Paradigm did) and had been unsuccessful herself in working out an agreement between some distant cousins of both parties. Disgusted at their childish behavior, Ro had finally refused to handle any more of their requests. She simply would not put up with their soap opera lives. Roger had achieved the impossible. "This is incredible! What did you do? They're such awful people!"
Roger told her, obviously very pleased with himself. Rowan listened intently, laughing with him as he described how it went. She called his solution a stroke of brilliance.
"Roger, I think you've found your calling...and as for this," Ro held up the bank checks, "you're a free man now. Congratulations, Mr. Negotiator." She handed them both back to him.
"Don't you want half?" Roger asked. "After all, they were referred to us, not to me." He filled the slender goblets with champagne and gave one to Ro.
"No," said the young woman. "I would never have accepted the case. You earned this one, one hundred percent. Every other negotiator in town has failed with these idiots, including me. What you did was miraculous. Your reputation is made, sweetheart. Enjoy your success, you deserve it!"
Her pleasure in his achievement shone in her face. She touched the rim of her wineglass to Roger's, then took a sip of the bubbly golden liquid. It was delicious, its alcoholic warmth spreading pleasantly through her weary body. "Roger, you are a genius."
"You really think so, hm?" Smith moved closer to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
"Uh huh." She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him, her eyes closed. Roger looked at her beautiful face, saw the fatigue in the dark shadows under her eyes. What happened out there? he wondered. Why wasn't she talking now abut her mysterious errand?
"Rowan."
"Hmmmn?" She nuzzled his cheek sleepily.
"Where have you been for the last two days?" He felt her stiffen at the question.
"You really don't want to know..." she began, but Roger hushed her with a light kiss on her lips.
"Yes I do," he said. "Besides, we agreed, no secrets between us." He began to massage her shoulders, trying to ease her distress. He could feel the knots in her muscles.
"Okay, you're right." She told him where she'd been and who she treated. Roger was surprised that she'd been willing to treat Gordon Rosewater until she told him why. Smith realized that she was being blackmailed in a sense to take care of the old brute. He had no idea how potentially lethal the synthetic foodstuffs Paradigm depended on were. Roger understood that this alone wouldn't have distressed Rowan so, as it was a frequently repeated situation and thus an old story to her. Something else must have happened. He coaxed her to have a little more champagne, hoping the alcohol would loosen her tongue.
She finally told him of Gordon Rosewater's "gift" and the subsequent conversation with Alex (though she decided not to mention Gordon's book, as she was unsure if it was fact or fantasy.) Ro admitted that she was frightened. Her eyes flashed green fire. "Damn," she growled, "I didn't want to ruin the evening with this stupidity. I'm probably over-reacting to their little headgames. They are both so good at manipulation."
Roger was furious at the Rosewaters, but there was nothing he could realistically do. He knew in his gut that Rowan was right to feel threatened. Despite her proven history as a tough and fearless survivor, she would need someone to watch her back now. Smith vowed to himself to be that person...he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her. He knew she would never ask him for help.
Roger also realized that his lady needed a diversion, preferably something playful, to soothe her troubled spirit. He decided to go for the basics - simple, but effective.
"Rowan, I think you need a little 'r and r.' "
" 'R and r?' " she echoed, puzzled. "What's that?"
"I'll show you," said Roger. Smirking, he took the wineglass from her, seized her hands and led her into the bedroom. He went into the master bath, turning on the shower, and returned to his curious sweetheart. He proceeded to undress Rowan (to feeble protest and much giggling) and then himself. He insisted on bathing her with gentle thoroughness, making it a special point to massage her neck, shoulders, and back.
Rowan found the whole procdure delightful. She wondered where he got the idea, then decided some things were better left unknown.
Getting towel-dried was as delicious as being bathed. Her entire body tingled, glowing with the attention.
Finally, satisfied with his handiwork, Roger gathered Rowan in his strong arms and deposited her in the middle of the silk-covered bed. He laid down beside her.
"Now," he said, putting his arms around her lithe body and pulling her close, "for some r and r." Ro laughed softly...she was so tired and so relaxed she couldn't help herself, and asked, "Roger, what ARE you talking about?"
"You still don't know?" he teased, kissing the top of her nose, then slowly moving his way south with his mouth and hands.
"No," she laughed again, squirming pleasureably under his expert touch.
Roger slid forward, so that they were face to face. His hands gently smoothed her inky hair. He nuzzled her, brushing his lips across her cheek.
"It's this," he whispered in Rowan's ear. "Just me and you, Roger and Rowan. Let the rest of the world go hang."