The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [7]
“What would you like?”
She smiled at him. “Whatever you’re having,” she said.
Trevor looked slightly distressed. “I’m not sure what I’m having,” he said. It was rather endearing.
“Well,” she said, “do you have any wine?”
“Red, white, or rosé?”
At least he understood the differences. “Red,” she said.
“Cabernet, merlot, shiraz—” Trevor was actually counting them off on his fingers.
“A merlot sounds wonderful!”
“Okay,” he said, and rewarded her with that sweet smile again. Clearly, he felt more comfortable in his own surroundings. He left and went into another room.
She listened for a moment, then jumped to her task. Quickly she removed a small mechanical device, no bigger than her thumbnail, from her purse. She attached it to the back of Trevor’s computer and counted the seconds it would take to perform its task, then snatched it back. From the kitchen, she heard the sound of the cork popping and wine being poured. Libby had just dropped the device back into her purse and sat back on the sofa when Trevor reappeared with two glasses.
He handed one to her and she noticed how well-shaped his hands were. A faint stab of guilt knifed through her. This was the part about her job that she hated—using the innocents. Trevor struck her as a decent, if boring, fellow. But she had to do this.
He raised his glass. “A toast,” he said. “To fortunate coincidences.”
[21] She clinked her glass against his. “I’ll drink to that.” She looked into his eyes and saw that they weren’t a muddy, unnamable color after all. They were a lovely shade of olive green flecked with gold.
The wine was excellent. They chatted for a while and then Libby exclaimed loudly at the time.
“I’m so sorry to have kept you this late,” she said, rising. “I’ve got to be up very early tomorrow.” She extended her hand, and this time when he shook it, his grasp was strong and warm.
“Libby,” he said, “I’ve—I had a wonderful time.” He seemed to be about to say something more, then apparently lost his nerve. Libby was profoundly grateful.
She playfully waggled the padd he had returned to her. “I didn’t know that losing this would lead to such a pleasant evening.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. The last half hour had been quite pleasant. Before he could gather up his courage to say anything more, she had taken a few steps toward the door. She could almost see Trevor shrink back into his protective shell of ordinariness.
He walked her to the transporter site. She kept expecting him to make an overture, but he seemed distracted, lost in thought, and when she said goodnight again he barely seemed to notice. Libby was vastly relieved.
Trevor watched the beautiful young woman dematerialize and began cursing himself the minute she was gone. Damn it! Why did he always ... why did he never ...
Against his better instincts he had read a few entries in the journal she had dropped. He had blushed at the frankness displayed therein and when she had [22] suggested going out with him, he had been stunned. Libby had seemed so nice and sweet. So beautiful. And he had done nothing, said nothing. By her attitude he could tell she, like everyone else, looked at him and dismissed him. He couldn’t blame her. There was nothing to set him apart, to make him someone anyone would want to really see.
But they would see him soon enough. Everyone would see him and be unable to avert their eyes from what he had done.
Everyone.
Libby lifted the hypospray to her throat and pressed. Instantly, she felt more alert. The pleasant haze of the wine and food departed, leaving a sharpness and focus in its stead. The drug wasn’t supposed to be used often, but she’d wrangled permission. Time was fleeing and if she was going to stop Montgomery, she needed something on him. Fast.
She sat down at her computer and attached the small device. Instantly it began downloading its contents to her own computer. Libby didn’t utilize a lot of gadgets, but when she did, she always found them amusing and useful. The computer