„Well, I still don’t see why Uncle Lowell would expect you to take the responsibility of keeping me out of trouble,“ Sara declared firmly.
Adrian deliberately kept his voice casual even though he was oddly aware of the strong, steady beat of his own pulse. „Don’t you? The explanation’s simple enough. Lowell Kincaid has plans for you, Sara. You’ve arrived a little ahead of schedule. I think he was planning on you coming to visit him in a couple of months, but the timing doesn’t change things.“
For the first time since he had caught her in his study, a degree of genuine wariness flared in Sara’s gaze. Adrian immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. But the strangely primitive desire to let her know she wasn’t quite as free as she assumed was pushing him.
„What plans?“ she demanded suspiciously.
He’d already said too much, Adrian decided. In a way it was alarming. He’d allowed his unaccustomed emotional response to push him in a direction he’d guessed would be awkward. Odd. He usually had a much better sense of discretion. Having gone this far, however, he was committed to finishing the business. He couldn’t take back the words he’d already spoken. The next best thing he could do was concentrate on keeping his tone light and whimsical.
„Didn’t your uncle tell you that he has decided to give you to me? You’re my reward, Sara. My gift for finishing Phantom and a couple of other things that were hanging fire in my life.“
Chapter Two
„Uncle Lowell has always had an odd sense of humor. If you’re really a close friend of his, I imagine you know that by now. I’ve always thought he would have made a good cartoonist. Between his constant doodling and his offbeat notion of what’s funny, he’d have been very successful.“
An hour later Sara lay in the unfamiliar inn-room bed rerunning her response to Adrian Saville’s casually outrageous remarks. She decided she’d handled the scene reasonably well. She would have suspected Saville of having a warped sense of humor except for the fact that she knew her uncle. It was entirely possible that Lowell Kincaid had „given“ her to his friend. He’d told her more than once that she didn’t know how to pick her men. It was Lowell who had the fractured sense of humor, Sara decided grimly. What worried her was that under that trace of whimsy, she sensed Adrian might have taken him seriously.
She turned onto her side, bunching the flat pillow into a more supportive shape, and thought about what her uncle had done. It was annoying, irritating and totally in keeping with Lowell Kincaid’s somewhat bizarre way of arranging things. His affinity for the unexpected was probably some sort of survival trait. A good secret agent couldn’t afford to be too predictable, Sara thought with a sigh. Normally, however, Lowell didn’t allow his penchant for the unique approach to infringe too much on the lives of friends and family. He knew intuitively where to stop.
But he’d let himself go overboard this time, and Sara found herself wondering why. Couldn’t he see that Saville was a man who took life seriously? You didn’t play jokes on people like that. They either got mad or hurt. There was always the possibility that Lowell was deadly serious about handing her over to a man of whom he approved, of course. He’d made it clear often enough he didn’t think much of her own choices in male companions. Yes, Lowell might have been very serious in his intent. In which case she would be sure to give him a piece of her mind when he showed up again.
Sara watched the shadows behind the gently blowing curtains. The window was open a few inches, allowing the fresh, crisp night air into the room. She knew a lot about her uncle’s sense of humor. Over the years she’d seen enough examples of it. Strange that he was such good friends with Saville. No one would ever accuse him of having much sense of humor, warped or otherwise. The faint flashes of amusement she had seen in him that evening disappeared so quickly she might have imagined them. She had the impression that when they did appear they surprised him as much as her. Saville was a controlled, quiet man who not only seemed quite different from her uncle but who was also a perfect opposite to the kind of men who circulated in her world.
Her ex-world, Sara reminded herself. Yuppiedom was another ex-world to add to the pile of such interesting experiments. It had been fun, but she had known when she’d gone into it that it wouldn’t be permanent. Sara knew she would recognize the life she wanted to live on a permanent basis when she found it. Until then she played games with the world. She wondered if she was getting a little too old for games.
Restlessly she switched to her other side and plumped the pillow again. Still, she had learned some useful skills during the past few years. For example, she knew how to slide out of a socially awkward situation such as the one that had occurred tonight. A light laugh, a wry expression and an easy comment.
Adrian had accepted her withdrawal from the topic, although he had insisted on accompanying her to the inn in her car. He’d offered her a bed at his house but had not seemed surprised when she politely declined. There was no sense complicating an already complex situation, Sara had told herself. As much as she had been intrigued by Adrian, she had been a little wary of him toward the end of the evening.
She was accustomed to men who didn’t take anything except their careers, their running and their new Porsches seriously, men who knew the socially acceptable vocabulary of the new male sensitivity by heart but who didn’t really know how to make commitments. Sara knew how to handle men such as that. She wasn’t so sure about Adrian Saville. She sensed he took a great deal in life very seriously.
There was more age in his eyes than on his face, she thought. And there was quiet, implacable strength in that pale gray gaze. She thought she understood why her uncle liked him. But she could also picture her unpredictable uncle trying to lighten the somberness that surrounded the younger man like an aura. She could just see Lowell Kincaid laughing and telling Adrian that his niece would be good for him and that he could have her when he’d finished his novel.
Sara made a rueful face. Perhaps her easygoing uncle hadn’t realized just how seriously a man like Adrian Saville would take such an outrageous comment. Ah, well. She would do her best to keep things light and easy between herself and the budding author on the drive back into the mountains tomorrow. And when this was all over she would give Lowell a lecture on interfering in the private lives and fantasies of his friends. Assuring herself of that, Sara finally drifted off to sleep.
It was sunny and warm the next morning as Sara showered and dressed for breakfast. Accustomed to that kind of weather in San Diego, she didn’t think much about it. She buttoned the wide cuffs of the oversized men’s-style shirt she had chosen to wear and fastened the yellow belt that clasped the tapered olive-green trousers. Hastily she clipped her bluntly cut hair with two clips and wondered if Adrian Saville would be on time for breakfast as he’d promised. She decided he would be. Authors were entitled to be erratic in their habits, Sara felt, but Adrian was the kind of man who would be exactly where he said he would be at the specified time. Dependable.
She hurried downstairs and across the street. The coffee shop Adrian had pointed out last night when he’d escorted her back to the inn was full of people who weren’t nearly so inclined as she was to take the local weather for granted. There seemed to be a kind of desperation in the air, as if everyone was determined to grab the last of summer before the Northwest winter took hold. Everyone from the hostess to the busboy commented in a dazed fashion on the fact that the Seattle area was getting another day of sunshine.
„Yes, it certainly is marvelous weather,“ Sara agreed politely as she was seated. Privately she thought that no one in San Diego would have even bothered to comment on it. „By the way, I’m waiting for someone.“ Something made her glance back toward the doorway. „Oh, there he is now. Would you show him to my table?“
The gray-haired, middle-aged hostess chuckled. „Sure.“ She waved energetically at the man who stood in the doorway surveying the room. „Hey, Adrian. Over here.“
Not just Adrian but everyone
else in the room looked around. Sara experienced an acute twinge of embarrassment. She should have guessed that in a small community like this everyone knew one another. Determinedly she smiled as Saville walked toward her.
Striving for a casual pose of polite welcome, Sara was astonished to realize that she was actually mildly fascinated with Adrian’s approach. His stride was a deceptively easy, flowing movement that covered the distance between the doorway and her table very quickly. He had a coordinated, masculine grace that went beyond the kind of athletic motion her male friends developed by running or working out. Sara had a feeling Adrian’s physical control and smoothness had probably been born in him, the way a cat’s coordination was.
The pelt of dark hair that he obviously kept disciplined with a scissor was still damp from his shower and combed severely into place. He wore jeans and a cream-colored button-down shirt. On his feet were the usual sneakers, Sara noted in amusement. The shoes made his progress across the coffee shop quite soundless. If Sara hadn’t been watching him, she would never have heard him approach the table. Just as she had never heard him come down the hall to the study last night, she reflected as he greeted the hostess.
„Good morning, Angie. How’s it going today? Looks like a full house this morning.“
The hostess nodded, pleased. „Give these Northwest folks a little sunny weather and they crawl out of the woodwork in droves. We’ve been doing real good this past week. Real good. Have a seat with your lady friend here and I’ll send Liz on over for your order.“ Beaming impartially down at Sara and Adrian, the hostess bustled off to find the waitress.
„Lady friend!“ Sara winced. „I’ve always heard that in small towns people pay a lot of attention to what their neighbors are doing but I hadn’t realized they were so quick to jump to conclusions! Better be careful, Adrian. When everyone finds out you’ve gone off to the mountains with me for the day, you’ll be a compromised man.“
„I can live with it.“ He appeared unconcerned, turning his head to greet the teenage waitress as she hurried over to the table.
„Morning, Adrian. Coffee for both of you?“ Liz began filling Adrian’s cup without waiting for confirmation and then glanced inquiringly at Sara.
„Please.“ Sara smiled.
„Ready to order?“ Briskly Liz whipped out her pad.
„Try the scones,“ Adrian suggested before Sara could speak.
„Scones?“
„Ummm. Homemade. They’re great,“ he assured her.
„Well, I usually just have a croissant and coffee,“ Sara began uncertainly.
„You’re leaving that yuppie life-style behind, remember?“
Adrian pointed out seriously.
Sara felt a wave of humor. „All right. An order of scones and a poached egg,“ she said to the waitress.
„Got it,“ Liz responded. She glanced at Adrian. „The usual for you? The number-three breakfast without the bacon?“
„Fine, Liz.“
Liz giggled and hurried off toward the kitchen.
Sara stirred cream into her coffee and slanted a glance at Adrian. „Okay, I give up. Why the giggle over your order of a number-three breakfast?“
Adrian’s mouth twisted wryly. „Because a number three without bacon is really a number one. The first time I ate here I didn’t notice the difference on the menu and just told Liz I wanted the number three minus the bacon. For some reason she’s made it into a standing joke between us.“
„I see. You don’t like bacon?“
„I don’t eat meat,“ he explained gently.
Sara was instantly intrigued. „Somehow you don’t look like a vegetarian.“
He leaned back against the cushion of the booth and picked up his coffee cup. „What do vegetarians look like?“
„Oh, I don’t know. Maybe like leftovers from a sixties’ commune or like a member of some exotic religious cult. Do you avoid meat for health or moral reasons?“
„I avoid it because I don’t like it,“ Adrian said too quietly.
Feeling very much put in her place, Sara managed a faintly polite smile. She knew when she was being told to shut up. „I guess that’s as good a reason as any other. So much for that topic. Let’s try another one. When will you be able to leave for the mountains? I’d like to start as soon as possible, if you don’t mind.“
Adrian’s dark lashes lowered in a thoughtful manner and then his steady gaze met Sara’s. „Was I rude?“
„Of course not,“ she assured him lightly. „I should never have pried. What you eat is entirely your own business.“
„I didn’t meant to be rude,“ Adrian insisted.
„You weren’t. Forget it. Here come the scones and they do look good.“ Sara flashed her best and most charming smile. The one she reserved for cocktail parties and management types.
„Don’t.“
She blinked and arched a brow in cool question. „I beg your pardon?“
„I said don’t,“ Adrian muttered as his plate was set in front of him.
„Don’t what?“
„Smile at me like that.“
„Sorry,“ Sara said rather grimly. Perhaps she would go to the mountains without him.
„It looks like something left over from your yuppie days,“ Adrian explained carefully. „Kind of upwardly mobile. A little too flashy and not quite real. I’d rather have the real thing.“
Sara couldn’t resist. „Choosy, aren’t you?“
„About some things. I can leave right after breakfast if you like.“
„Actually,“ she began forbiddingly, „I’m on the verge of changing my mind.“
„About breaking into your uncle’s cottage?“ Adrian slid a piece of egg onto a piece of toast.
„About taking you with me,“ Sara said sweetly.
He glanced up, surprised. „Just because I was a little short with you a few minutes ago?“
Put like that, it did sound rather trite. Sara was at a loss to explain exactly why she was vaguely reluctant to have him accompany her, but the feeling had been growing since she’d awakened that morning. She didn’t really have a valid excuse for refusing his companionship, however. After all, she was the one who had sought him out and she had done so precisely because Lowell Kincaid had advised it several months ago. The sense of ambivalence she was feeling for Adrian was a new emotion for her. Sara drummed her berry-tinted nails on the table and decided to lay down a few ground rules. Normally she didn’t think too highly of rules, but there were times when they represented a certain safety.
„I suppose I can’t stop you from coming with me, although I’m not at all sure it’s necessary. But I would appreciate it if you would keep in mind that this whole plan to get into the cottage is my idea.“
„Meaning you’re in charge?“ Adrian munched his toast, watching her with intent eyes.
„Something like that. Forgive me if I’m jumping to conclusions, Adrian, but I have this odd feeling that you might be the type to take over and run the show.“ Even as she said the words, Sara realized the truth of them. Perhaps this was the source of her vague wariness regarding this man.
„Think of how nice it will be to have someone else along to share the blame in the event you get caught breaking and entering.“
Sara’s eyes widened. „Not a bad point,“ she conceded. Then her sense of humor caught up with her. „What did you do before you became a writer, Adrian? You seem to have a knack for getting what you want. Were you a businessman?“
He considered the question. „I guess you could say I was sort of a consultant.“
„A consultant?“
„Umm. Someone you call in when things go wrong and have to be fixed in a hurry. You know the type.“
„Sure. We used a lot of consultants in the corporation where I recently worked. What’s your area of expertise? Engineering? Design? Management?“
„Management.“
Sara nodded, familiar with the field. „Get tired of it?“
„More than
that. I got what is casually known as burned out.“
„I can understand that. I think that in a way that’s what happened to me. Uncle Lowell is right. It takes a certain type of personality to be really happy in corporate management. I guess neither you nor I is the type.“
A slight smile edged Adrian’s hard mouth. „Maybe we have more in common than you thought. We’re both in the process of changing careers and we both like Lowell Kincaid.“
Sara laughed. „Do you think we can keep each other company on a long drive given those two limited things in common?“
„I think we’ll make it without boring or strangling each other.“
An hour and a half later Sara was inclined to agree with Adrian. The drive east of Seattle into the Cascades had passed with amazing swiftness. There had been stretches of silence, but the quiet times had not been uncomfortable. Adrian was the kind of man a woman didn’t feel she had to keep entertained with bright conversation. In fact, Sara was privately convinced that Adrian would be disgusted if he thought someone was deliberately trying to entertain him with meaningless chatter. It was rather a relief to feel so at ease with him in this area, she realized. Her early-morning tinglings of ambivalence faded as Adrian guided the car deeper into the forest-darkened mountains.
When they did talk, the topics varied from the spectacular scenery to speculation on Lowell Kincaid’s whereabouts. In between they discussed Adrian’s fledgling career as a writer and the turning point Sara had reached in her own life.
„Are you in a hurry to find a new job?“ Adrian asked at one point.
He had calmly assumed the role of driver and Sara had acquiesced primarily because she suspected he would be excellent behind the wheel. She was right. His natural coordination and skill made her feel comfortable at once. He had insisted on using his car and Sara couldn’t complain about that, either. The BMW hugged the curving highway with a mechanical grace and power. Normally Sara wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about being a passenger in a car being driven by someone whose driving techniques she didn’t know well.
The Waiting Game Page 3
