“No need for that. Ms. Tambor wouldn’t recognize me anyhow.” Naturally not, since he was not a former colleague of hers. If she got a look at him she might check with the agency, and that would put an end to everything. Covering his movement with his body, he slipped a second card into the slot.
“Very well, sir. You may go on up.”
The card stayed in the machine. With a hum, the intricate brass and steel sculpture that blocked the lobby as efficiently as any grate parted to admit him. His heart pounded as he pressed the button for Twelve sub-T inside the wood-paneled elevator.
He stepped out into a round room, beautifully furnished in rare woods and matching fabric wallpaper. Four doors led off from the reception arch. He went to number four and pressed the greeter. Chimes sounded from inside, followed by a faint voice. “Just a moment.”
There was a snap as magnetics were uncoupled. The door opened about a foot and a face so beautiful Eric’s heart skipped two beats peered out at him. It was the color of cafe au lait and as delicate as spun-sugar sculpture
“Can I help you?”
“The lobby security admitted me,” he mumbled, as if seeking further assurance of his own presence. “My name is James Lawson. I’m from the agency.”
“The agency.” She frowned exquisitely, her facial muscles a symphony of subtle motion.
“The Magdalena Agency. You used to do work for them.”
“Oh, yes. That was for such a little while. I don’t understand.” He had the presence of mind to say nothing. The door moved aside a little more. “You’d better come in, Mr.…?”
“Lawson. Thank you.” Never had he meant two words more in his life.
The floor and ceiling were curved, forming a large ellipse with the walls. Outside and below lay the East River and the towers across the water. There were no straight angles in the room. It was decorated entirely in soft curves, unthreatening furniture, and all enameled white, like a furnished egg. Round sculptures decorated the floor, paintings in circular frames startlingly colorful on the walls. There was lots of crystal.
In the white-and-crystal room the dark-skinned Tambor shone like a Burmese ruby in a necklace of diamonds. Perhaps the effect was intentional, perhaps she simply liked white, but the result was overpowering. It was hardly needed. She would have stood out as boldly in the Chinese room at the Met.
She indicated a nearby white couch. “Please sit down.” He did so, trying not to stare at her too long lest he trip over the furniture, or the carpet, or his own feet. His earlier hope that on contact his obsession might dissolve itself vanished in a flood of emotion. There was nothing now she could do to mute his love for her. She was all he imagined she could be, and much more.
“Du bist wie eine Blume, so hold und schoen und rein.”
“I beg your pardon?” She walked to a crystal bar.
“Old poetry,” he murmured. “It means, ‘Your beauty is like a flower, immaculate and fair.’”
She hesitated in the middle of pouring a glass of mineral water, eyed him confusedly. Her expression was charming, as was everything else about her.
“That’s a very nice thing to say, Mr. Lawson, but a bit forward, don’t you think? Certainly not professional.”
“My name isn’t Lawson,” he blurted out helplessly. “I’m not sure what it is anymore. I’m not sure of anything right now.”
Wrong, all wrong! You’ll frighten her. Yet she didn’t seem nervous as she sipped at her glass and looked back at him.
“What an interesting thing to say. You look like an interesting man, Mr. Whoever-You-Are.”
“Abbott. Eric Abbott. At least, that’s who I was last week and the week before that. I’m not so sure now. Not sure of anything except”—he was surprised how easily the words came out—“that I’m in love with you.”
What her response to that declaration might be he couldn’t imagine. Shock, surprise, confusion over this amorous masquerader who’d somehow gained entrance to her home. Her reaction was not what he’d expected. She put a couple of ice cubes into her glass, pulling them from a kinetic sculpture. He began to wonder if it was possible to surprise this woman.
“That’s unfortunate for you, Mr. Abbott.” There was real sympathy in her voice. Her eyes were sad and secret. She stood there by the bar, her body visible through the transparent crystal, and continued to watch him. She was perfectly calm and seemingly unintimidated by his presence.
She deals with these kinds of intrusions all the time, he thought suddenly. Even now a silent alarm might be at work, summoning bodyguards or security from a nearby suite or downstairs.
“I mean it.” He rose. “I love you with every atom of my being, Lisa."
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, dammit.” He took a step toward her. “I know this all sounds crazy. It sounds crazy to me, too. I saw you once, in a car, in Phoenix.”
“Phoenix,” she murmured, making it sound like an invitation. “Yes, I was there just recently.”
“In a car,” he repeated. “From that moment, that glimpse, I loved you."
“Of course you did.” There was no mockery in her tone. “You couldn’t help yourself.”
“No, I couldn’t.” He hesitated. “I’m not the first man to confront you with this, am I?”
She looked apologetic and much sadder. “No, not by a very large number, Mr. Abbott.”
“Eric, please.”
“If you like. It doesn’t matter. It never matters.”
“You think I’m playing at this. I’ve never been more sincere in my life. I’ve never said that to another woman.”
She looked at him with a little more interest. “That does make you unusual. You don’t look like a recluse. Are you telling me you’ve never loved another woman?”
“Not like this. No, not ever.”
“I’m surprised. You’re a good-looking man.”
