Trust Me

as a perfectly secure system once you’re hooked up to a modem or involved in a computer network. All of Stark Security machines have vulnerable spots. That’s why I do serious development and design work at home on a completely isolated computer.”
    “I was just wondering,” Desdemona said, “do you have any enemies?”
    Stark watched the sexy shadow of her figure as she moved about behind the opaque white screen. She raised her arms over her head for a moment. The action tilted her delicately curved breasts in a provocative manner. He was aware of a deep, satiated sensation thrumming through his body. And of the hunger that lay beneath it.
    “I could probably name one or two if I tried.” He buttoned his shirt. “Why?”
    “I’m not sure. I just had a strange feeling.” Desdemona appeared from behind the screen. She looked up from the task of tying the sash of her kimono robe. Her eyes were huge with concern.
    “Is this another example of the famed Wainwright intuition?” Stark asked, amused.
    “Maybe. There’s something very intimate about this situation, if you know what I mean.”
    Wistfully he eyed her little bare toes. Damn, but he hated to leave here tonight. “I know what you mean.”
    She frowned. “I’m talking about the person behind the attempted theft of ARCANE. Stark, whoever hired Vernon Tate and then killed him knows a lot, not just about you, but about me. About us. Don’t you see?”
    Stark’s fingers stilled on the last button of his shirt. “You think that whoever is behind this was the one who sent Vernon Tate to Right Touch to pose as an ice carver?”
    “Yes. And that person also knew enough to realize that he could set Tony up to take the fall if things went sour. He had to know that Tony was into computers and that he was sort of a… well, you know.”
    “A screwup. Right. But that still leaves a lot of possibilities,” Stark said quietly. “Down to and including my secretary.”
    “I suppose so.”
    “You’re saying it’s not my enemies I need to worry about. It’s my friends.”
    “Maybe it’s my friends we need to check out,” Desdemona said softly. “Some of them know as much about computers as your secretary. All of them could have known about my relationship with you and also that I needed a new ice carver. And there’s no getting around the fact that one or two are desperate for cash at the moment.”
    Stark buckled his belt. “You’re thinking about Ian?”
    Desdemona gave him an unhappy look. “Well, the thought did cross my mind.”
    “Forget it,” Stark said. “It’s not Ian Ivers.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “I’m sure. I’ve got my own kind of intuition.”

2O

    Late the following afternoon Juliet stuck her head around the door of Desdemona’s office. “Everyone else has gone for the day. Floors are mopped, counters are clean, and I’m off to rehearsal.”
    “Right. Thanks.” Desdemona, immersed in the proposal for a wedding reception, did not look up. “Don’t forget the charity luncheon tomorrow.”
    “I won’t.”
    Desdemona studied the list of menu items she was considering. “You know, this reception literally cries out for ice sculptures. I wonder if that man, Larry Easenly, who did those carvings for Vernon Tate would be interested in a commission.”
    “Personally, I don’t care if I never see another ice sculpture,” Juliet said. “Every time I look at one I’m going to think of Vernon and this whole mess.”
    “So am I.” Desdemona put down her pen and leaned back in her chair. “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
    “All of us will be glad when – “ Juliet broke off. “What’s that sound?”
    A tiny, muffled beep-beep-beep reverberated shrilly from some unseen location.
    Desdemona glanced speculatively at her jacket, which was hanging on a hook. “I do believe that is the sound of my new, handy-dandy, state-of-the-art, personal digital assistant.”
    Juliet made a face. “It probably wants to give you the latest weather report.”
    “Or the final score of the Mariners’ game.” Desdemona reached into the jacket pocket and removed the PDA.
    “Neither of which are of any great interest to you. Be honest with me, Desdemona, are you really sure you want to marry a man whose idea of a birthday present is a miniature computer?”
    “It’s the thought that counts. Don’t forget, if it hadn’t been for Stark’s gift, I’d have been stuck in that freezer with poor Vernon for Lord knows how