Jayne Ann Krentz
The Waiting Game
Dear Reader,
When Sara Frazer turned up in my study, rifling through my desk, I was more than a little surprised. Not because she had broken into my house, but because she was a week early – and more attractive than I had ever imagined. You see, I’ve waited for Sara to arrive on Bainbridge Island for a long time-ever since her uncle cooked up his crazy matchmaking scheme – and I’ve had plenty of time to fantasize about what she might be like as I look out over the sound at the lights of Seattle. But my dreams were never like this.
Adrian Saville
JAYNEANNKRENTZ
The Waiting Game
Harlequin Books
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN MADRID • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as „unsold and destroyed“ to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this „stripped book.“
For Ann Maxwell, who understands the fantasy
HARLEQUIN ENTERPRISES LTD.
225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9
THE WATTING GAME
Copyright® 1985 by Jayne Krentz, Inc.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Ltd. 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9
ISBN: 0-373-45.197-0
Published Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd. 1985,1993,1995
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and ail incidents are pure invention.
® and ™ are trademarks used under license. Trademarks recorded with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed In the US. A.
Chapter One
Sara Frazer paused in the act of searching Adrian Saville’s desk and told herself for the hundredth time that what she was doing was illegal and potentially dangerous. And while she had her faults, as her family had only recently pointed out to her in some detail, she had never, until that moment, sunk to the level of doing something of this nature.
But Sara was concerned, worried, anxious and more than a little suspicious of the stranger whose study she was going through with such haste. Besides, she told herself with her customary impulsive enthusiasm, the opportunity had been too good to let pass. The door to Saville’s isolated home had not been locked when she had arrived twenty minutes earlier. And she had, after all, no intention of stealing anything. She just needed some answers.
Impatiently Sara scanned the room as she closed the drawer of the desk. The study was a clean-lined, orderly room. It was a quiet, solid, masculine room, and she couldn’t help wondering how accurately it reflected its owner. Hardwood floors, simple, substantial furniture and a great deal of shelving were the main features. If the den did mirror its owner with any degree of accuracy, she would be in trouble should Saville happen to walk in the door. Something about the place seemed to resist and resent her intrusion.
A greenhouse window that overlooked the cold, dark water of Puget Sound provided the main source of light. Dusk was settling in on Bainbridge Island, where Adrian Saville made his home, and across the expanse of water the lights of Seattle began sinking into life. Sara didn’t dare turn on a lamp for fear of alerting a neighbor to her presence. The house was tucked away by itself amid a stand of fir and pine, but one never knew who might pass by on the road outside. It was late summer and she ought to have enough fading twilight to get her through the rest of the search.
She was turning away from the desk, intent on exploring the bookshelves, when she noticed the apple. Startled, Sara reached out to pick it up. In that moment she was forced to acknowledge that she might have been mistaken in her suspicions of Adrian Saville. After all, she had an apple just like this one and there was only one person who could have given it to Saville.
Sara held the object up to the fading light and studied it intently. It was not just any apple, of course. It was fashioned of heavy crystal, and the stem with its leaf was of intricately worked gold. The person who had made a gift of the apple believed in substantial things such as gold, Sara knew. Small bubbles had been captured inside the apple by the artist. They reflected the light in an intriguing manner, making anyone who held the object want to examine it more intently.
All in all, it was a very attractive paperweight, and the fact that it sat on Adrian Saville’s desk put a whole new light on the situation. Sara stood still, turning the apple so that the crystal caught the light, and wondered what she was going to do next.
„Offer me a bite.“
The deep, graveled voice came from the doorway. Sara chilled for an instant as fear and embarrassment washed through her. She nearly dropped the crystal apple as she spun around to face the man who was lounging calmly against the doorjamb. Frantically she struggled for self-control and a reasonable explanation of her presence in his study. Unfortunately the situation did not do wonders for her presence of mind. Sara found herself wishing very badly that she had never succumbed to the temptation his empty house had provided.
„I’m sorry,“ she managed, stumbling over the words. Vaguely she realized that her hands were trembling. „I didn’t hear anyone. I mean, there was no one at home when I arrived, and the door was unlocked. I had no business wandering in to wait for you, but it seemed pointless to sit outside in the car and I – “ She broke off abruptly as something occurred to her. „You are Adrian Saville, aren’t you?“
Eyes that were either unusually colorless or else were washed of color by a trick of the dim light swept curiously over her. Sara had the feeling that the stranger had taken in every detail in that brief glance.
„If I’m not Adrian Saville, this situation is going to get even more complicated, isn’t it?“ he noted softly.
Sara’s fingers tightened on the paperweight as she forced herself to sound reasonably cool and collected. „It would mean that there are two intruders in Mr. Saville’s home instead of just one. Yes, I would say that would complicate things. But I don’t think that’s the case. You are Adrian Saville.“
Arms folded across his chest, the man regarded her with mild interest. „What makes you so sure?’’
„You’re leaning much too casually in that doorway, for one thing,“ Sara retorted. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t seem intent on doing her any immediate harm. Actually, he really didn’t look like the sort of man who would harm someone unless greatly provoked. The fear died away, leaving only the embarrassment. „Look, I can explain this, Mr. Saville.“
„I can’t wait to hear the explanation.“
Sara felt the warm flush paint the line of her cheekbones. Carefully she set the crystal apple back down on his desk. It was a relief to have an excuse to look away from that strangely colorless gaze. „Then you’re going to acknowledge your name, at least?“
„Why not? This is my home. I might as well use my name,“ he murmured easily.
„I’m Sara Frazer,“ she said quietly, turning her bead to meet his eyes once more. „Lowell Kincaid’s niece. I have a paperweight just like th
is one at home.“
„I see.“
She hadn’t expected the silence that followed. It made her feel uneasy and awkward. Hurriedly she tried to fill it with further explanations. „I came looking for you because I couldn’t locate Uncle Lowell. I just arrived from his place in the mountains late this afternoon. I caught the ferry here to the island and by the time I found your house it was getting quite late. There was no answer when I knocked on your door, and when I tried it, it was unlocked. I’m afraid I just came on in to wait for you,“ she concluded with a tentative smile.
„And wound up searching my study as a means of passing the time?“ He didn’t return her smile but he didn’t seem unduly upset.
Sara took a deep breath. „I happened to notice the paperweight,“ she lied politely. „It really is just like the one have. Uncle Lowell gave it to me a few months ago. I assume he gave you this one?“
„Umm.“
Sara decided the noncommittal sound was an affirmative. „They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they? I have mine on my desk at home.“
He ignored her determined chattiness. „What were you looking for, Sara?“
Something about the calm manner in which he asked the question convinced her that Adrian Saville wasn’t going to accept her explanation of why she happened to be in his study. Sara exhaled slowly, considering her options. This might be a clear-cut case of honesty being the best policy, she decided ruefully. Folding her arms across her small breasts in a subtle mockery of his own stance, she leaned back and propped herself against the edge of the desk. She met his gaze with a level one of her own.
„I was looking for something.“
He nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. „For what?“
She shrugged. „That’s the problem. I don’t know. Anything that might give me a clue about where my uncle is.“
Adrian continued to regard her with solemn interest for another long moment. This time Sara resisted the impulse to fill the silent void with attempts at explanations. She could be just as remote and laconic as Adrian Saville could, she promised herself.
„What makes you think I might have some answers for you?“
„I’m not sure you do. But Uncle Lowell once told me that if anything ever happened to him, I was to notify you. He gave me your address several months ago, shortly before he sent the apple, in fact.“
„And you think something has happened to Lowell?“
„I don’t know,“ Sara admitted. „I only know that he’s not at his home up in the mountains.“
„Perhaps he’s taken a short trip. Was he expecting you?“
Sara swallowed uneasily. „Well, no. I just showed up on his doorstep unannounced, I’m afraid. I did try to call but all I got was his answering machine.“
„Then why the concern?“ Adrian pressed quietly.
Sara looked at him searchingly. „How well do you know my uncle?“
„Well enough.“
Not much to go on, but she might as well see what happened when she told him the reason for her concern. „His neighbor said he went hunting.“
Adrian Saville greeted that bit of information with more silence. Then he straightened away from the door. „Have you had dinner, Sara?“
Sara frowned as he turned away and started down the hall. „Wait a minute! Don’t you understand?“ she demanded, hurrying after him. She caught up with him just as he rounded the comer and walked into the small, rather old-fashioned kitchen. „They said he went hunting.“
„And Lowell Kincaid doesn’t go in for blood sports. Yes, I understand.“ Adrian opened the refrigerator door, examining the contents with a wary eye.
„It’s because of his old job,“ Sara said quickly. „Before he retired he worked in a rather violent world, you see.“
„He worked for the government, you mean.“ Adrian finally decided on a plastic-wrapped chunk of cheese. He removed it from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. Then he opened a cupboard and reached for a box of crackers. „I know what your uncle used to do for a living, Sara.“
She blinked, watching him carefully. „Oh.“
„You didn’t answer my question. Did you have any dinner?“ Adrian began slicing cheese with smooth, methodical strokes of a knife.
„Uh, no, I haven’t had time,“ Sara said vaguely. Her mind was on other things and had been all afternoon.
„Neither have I. Cheese and crackers and some vegetables okay?“
„Look, Adrian… Mr. Saville…I’m really not very hungry. I just came here to see if you knew anything about Uncle Lowell.“
„And stayed to rifle my study.“ He nodded. „Sorry I can’t offer anything more interesting. But it’s kind of late in the evening to start something more elaborate. And I’m really not that good a cook in the first place.“
„I didn’t rifle your study!“ Sara exploded, beginning to lose her patience. She didn’t have a great deal of that commodity in the first place. Life was short enough as it was, she felt. What good was an excess of patience? „Now, about Uncle Lowell…“
„There’s some wine in that cupboard next to the sink. Why don’t you open a bottle while I slice up a few carrots and some broccoli?“
„But I don’t want any wine!“
„I do.“ He glanced back at her over his shoulder, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. „I’m celebrating, you see.“
That stopped her. „Celebrating what?“
„The sale of my first novel.“
Sara stared at him, astonished. „Are you really?“
„Umm.“
Again she assumed the noncommittal sound was a yes answer. Her enthusiasm sprang up, as usual, out of nowhere and rushed into her voice. „Adrian, that’s fantastic! Absolutely fantastic! A once-in-a-lifetime event. I can’t believe it. I’ve never even met an author before.“
„Neither have I,“ Adrian said dryly. He finished slicing the cheese and opened the refrigerator to pull out a handful of carrots. „Choose whichever bottle of wine you want.“
A little bemused, Sara found herself obediently reaching into the cupboard and selecting a bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir. She’d heard the Northwest wine industry was starting to flourish but she hadn’t yet had much experience with the products. They hadn’t yet become chic in California. „You must be very excited.“
He thought about that. „Well, it was a relief to make the sale,“ he began consideringly.
„A relief! Why, it’s marvelous! Terrific! Thrilling! What’s the matter with you? I should think you’d be doing handsprings or something.“
„I imagine it’s easier to get excited when there’s someone else around to get excited with you,“ he murmured, arranging raw vegetables on a platter and putting a dollop of mayonnaise in the center. „I did go out and have a beer down at a local tavern. That’s where I was when you arrived, in fact.“
Sara poured the wine and handed him a glass. With a smile she raised her own glass in a grand salute. „Congratulations! And here’s to nice, fat royalty checks.“ She sipped her Pinot Noir with attention. It was good. She made a mental note of the fact. There appeared to be a future in Northwest wines. Then she remembered belatedly that she didn’t have to worry so much anymore about being on top of the latest culinary trends. „Too bad you can’t tell Uncle Lowell. I’m sure he’d be very happy for you.“
Adrian regarded her over the rim of his glass as he took a deep swallow. „Yes, I think he would be quite satisfied.“
Sara smiled at him quizzically. „Did he know you were writing a book?“
„He knew.“
„Then you really are a close friend of his?“ she went on doggedly.
„Umm.“
Sara shot him a narrow glance. „Can’t you just say yes or no?“
„Sorry. Yes.“
„Then you do realize that it was odd he would tell his neighbor he was going hunting?“ she continued more seriously.
„Is that exactly what his neighbor
said? That Lowell said he was going hunting?“ Adrian picked up the platter of vegetables and led the way into the rustic living-room. He set the plate down on a low wood-and-brass table in front of the couch and went over to the old stone fireplace. Going down on one knee, he reached for a handful of kindling. Although it was still technically summer and the day had been sunny and warm, the first hint of the coming fall was in the air tonight.
Sara sat down in the corner of the worn black leather couch, studying the man in front of her. „That’s what the woman who had the cabin near his said. Her exact words.“
Adrian didn’t respond, his attention on constructing the fire. Sara sipped her wine and continued to watch him. There was a certain fluidity to his movements that intrigued her. There was also a definite logical precision to the way he built the fire. A coordinated, controlled man.
He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a black denim workshirt. The clothing molded a lean, tautly built body that seemed totally balanced. On his feet he wore a pair of dusty, soft-soled canvas sport shoes. Now that she had a moment to think about it, she decided the strange eyes were really a shade between blue and gray. In the right light they might appear as silver.
He was a friend of her uncle’s and that took the nervousness out of contacting him, even if he had caught her going through the contents of his desk. Although he gave the impression of being easygoing and very friendly, Lowell Kincaid was actually quite cautious in his friendships. He had worked too long in a world where few people could be trusted. If he liked Adrian Saville, then Sara knew she, in turn, could trust the stranger in front of her. Her uncle had always been an excellent judge of people. Sometimes his life had depended on those judgments. The fact that he had survived and been able to retire at the normal age was evidence of just how accurate his analyses of other people had been over the years.
Adrian set a match to the kindling and the yellow flames leaped to life. He crouched for a moment in front of the fire, making certain it had caught properly, and the flickering light illuminated the hard line of his profile.
The Waiting Game Page 1
