The answer was straight enough, Sara had to admit to herself. Straightforward and honest. Just like the man. The bluntness of it served to wilt the small blossom of excitement within her before she’d even had a chance to fully analyze it. She stifled a small sigh of regret.
„Pleasant,“ she mused. „That sounds a little insipid.“
He seemed surprised at her interpretation. „No. Not at all. I’ve learned to value the pleasant things in life,“ he continued slowly. „Pleasant things are civilized. They bring an element of grace and gentleness and peace into our lives. A glass of wine before dinner or a can of beer on a hot afternoon, a late-night walk on a beach, a friend you can trust with your life, a woman whose love is unshakable even if she knows you’ve been to hell and back. A wise man values such things.“
„It must be the writer in you that can put the love of a woman in the same category of pleasantness as a glass of wine. Don’t expect a woman to be impressed, however. We like to think we’re special,“ Sara said with a degree of lightness she wasn’t feeling.
„You’re not going to take me seriously, are you?“
„Not tonight. It’s two o’clock in the morning and we’ve had a disturbing day. I feel a little strange after reading Phantom; restless in some way. And as for you, you’re a man whose understanding of life’s pleasures seems to be different from the way other men view them. I’m not sure I understand you. All in all, I think there are too many jumbled emotions and unknown factors hanging around tonight for me to risk taking you seriously.“ She said it all very easily but Sara believed every word she was uttering.
„You may be right,“ Adrian agreed. He paused before asking, „Are you always this cautious with a man?“
She laughed in spite of herself. „It’s the only area of my life in which I am careful. Or at least that’s what my family would tell you. A woman can get burned falling in love with a man who’s only interested in the superficial pleasures and pleasantries life has to offer. And there are so many men out there who are only interested in the superficial things. Uncle Lowell is right. But then, he usually is when it comes to judging people.“
„I’m different, Sara,“ Adrian told her as he faced the sea. „I’m not one of your superficial wimps.“
„No, I don’t think you are. But I’m a long way from figuring out just exactly what category of male to put you in, Adrian Saville. And until I do…“
„You’ll be cautious?“
„I think so. Good night, Adrian.“ Deliberately breaking the spell, Sara turned and stepped back into her room. Resolutely she closed the sliding-glass door and pulled the curtain. She stopped for a moment, listening to the silence, trying to examine the strange emotions swirling within her. Perhaps she was only feeling the remnants of the passion Adrian had ignited with his kiss.
But that kiss had ended hours ago. Perhaps she was simply disquieted by the tale of Phantom, she thought. No, there was far more to it than the restlessness left by the powerfully told story of a man on the brink. She had to face the fact that her suspicions concerning Adrian’s serious approach to life were true. In all probability he really did look upon her as the prize he’d been promised by Lowell Kincaid.
What made her deeply uneasy was that she wasn’t resisting the idea of being handed over to Adrian nearly as much as she ought to. Was it because she couldn’t bring herself to take the notion seriously? Or was it because she was finding herself attracted to this stranger in a way that she’d never experienced with any other man?
Pleasant! Adrian thought it would be pleasant to be loved completely by a woman he could trust. Sara gritted her teeth. The man had a lot to learn emotionally. Either that or he needed a new vocabulary! After having read Phantom, though, she couldn’t believe he lacked emotions.
But after having read his novel she could believe he was the kind of man who was determined to stay in control of the emotional side of his nature. The story of Phantom told her that on some level Adrian viewed the emotional side of life as full of risk. He would want to be very certain of a woman’s love before he could allow himself to trust it, Sara realized.
It was all too complicated to figure out tonight and there were so many other things to worry about. Sara took a deep breath and went back to bed.
It was the kind of conversation that neither of them would want to mention the next morning. She felt certain of that. The late hour and the inherent safety of being on separate balconies with the soft rustle of the wind in the trees as background had combined to create a strange mood that had infected both of them. The mood would be gone by morning, and she had a hunch Adrian was wise enough to let it go.
Besides, she didn’t really care to be lumped into the same category as a glass of wine or a can of beer.
Out on his balcony Adrian watched the shadowy sway of a tall pine and decided that, as a writer, he really ought to pay more attention to his choice of words.
Obviously words such as „pleasant“ and „pleasure“ were not the right ones to use around Sara Frazer. To her they were part of the games one enjoyed in life. Not matters of seriousness. She just didn’t realize how much he valued the softer things in this world, or how seriously he took everything. Well, he’d try to watch it in the future.
After all, he sure as hell didn’t want to fall into the same category as all those lightweight males Kincaid claimed she dated.
Straightening away from the railing, Adrian paced back into his room and closed the door. He had been unable to sleep earlier, his body far too aware of the fact that Sara was awake next door. The glow from her room while she read had lit her balcony and had been plainly visible from his own room. Now that she’d finally turned out her light perhaps he’d be able to get some rest.
The next morning Sara decided to take the initiative. She would put the mood and the conversation back onto a safe track. Setting an assured, easygoing tone was second nature for her. It was a skill she’d picked up early on in the world of corporate management and perfected even more in the world of casual dating.
„I’ve been thinking,“ she said as Adrian held the car door for her the next morning, „that you never really got a chance to properly celebrate the sale of Phantom. You had a beer by yourself and a glass of wine with me later, and that was it. Since then, I’ve had you running around helping me break into a private house, clean up a nasty mess and calm my fears. This evening I think we should celebrate properly.“
„How?“ Adrian turned the key in the ignition.
„I’ll cook dinner for you. How does that sound?“ She smiled.
„It sounds very pleasant.“ His mouth twisted. „I mean it sounds very nice.“ He cleared his throat and tried again. „It sounds great.“ He appeared pleased with his final choice of words. „Can you cook?“
„A good yuppie can fix the current gourmet fad food at the drop of a hat,“ she assured him.
„How about an ex-fad food like pasta?“
„No problem, as long as it’s not macaroni and cheese. Imbedded in my brain cells is a recipe for a wonderful pasta and vegetable dish that will knock your socks off.“
„No meat?“
„Absolutely not. Meat would ruin the delicate flavor of the dish, anyway. We’ll need a nice Chardonnay to go with it.“
He nodded. „Sounds like we’d better make a stop at the Pike Place Market before we board the ferry home.“
„Terrific. I’d love to see the market. I’ve heard about it for years. I keep meaning to go whenever I visit Uncle Lowell, but somehow we’ve never had the time.“ Her sudden enthusiasm bubbled over.
„It’s one of Seattle’s main attractions. The only problem is finding a place to park. The place is usually crawling with tourists on a day like this.“
They followed the highway down out of the mountains, crossed the bridge that connected Bellevue and Mercer Island to Seattle and then descended the steep streets downtown to First Avenue. Seattle’s aggressive new skyline faced Elliott Bay, hugging the w
estern coast of the continent and waiting eagerly for the daily traffic of cargo ships from around the world. The Pike Place Market, an old and honored institution, occupied prime territory a block from the waterfront. But if anyone had dared to suggest that it be razed and replaced by a high rise, be would have been lynched by the local citizens, Adrian told Sara. Seattle loved its market, with its blocks of vegetable stands, craft shops, bakeries and restaurants.
Adrian pulled off the neat coup of finding a parking space not more than a block from the busy outdoor market. He seemed quite proud of himself for being able to avoid one of the expensive parking garages. Men always seemed to see it as a challenge to find street parking, Sara realized with an inner grin. She congratulated him as he reached for her hand and led her up a flight of steps into the bustling atmosphere.
„I got lucky,“ he acknowledged modestly. „Stay close. I don’t want to lose you.“
Street musicians, a mime, a puppeteer, craftspeople and various and assorted panhandlers added noise and interest to the basic color of a working public market. Sara was fascinated by the array of intricately arranged vegetables in the produce stalls. The fish vendors hawked their wares in loud voices, waving live lobsters around to attract attention. Meat vendors offered every cut imaginable. Tourists and locals thronged the crowded aisles and spilled out onto the cobbled street that ran down the center of the market. Sara noticed that Adrian did not glance at either the fish or meat stalls.
„There’s a shop where we can get the pasta at the far end of the market,“ Adrian advised as Sara halted to study an artistically arranged pyramid of red peppers. „And there’s a wine store across the street.“
„Why don’t you go select the wine and pick up the pasta while I choose the vegetables?“ Sara suggested. „I’ll meet you back at the flower stall on the corner. That way we can save a little time. It’s getting late.“
Adrian hesitated. „Sure you won’t get lost?“
„I’ll be fine. The flower stall in fifteen minutes.“ She smiled up at him.
„Well, all right. You said you wanted a Chardonnay?“
„Right.“ Sara turned to plow through a gaggle of tourists who were trying to photograph the red peppers forming a pyramid. She was intent on finding the perfect broccoli. And she mustn’t forget some Parmesan cheese, she reminded herself. There was a cheese vendor up ahead.
Somewhere between selecting the broccoli and choosing the fresh peas Sara began to lose track of time. Fifteen minutes went by very quickly and she was in the process of ordering the grated Parmesan when she happened to glance at her watch and realized she was going to be late meeting Adrian back at the flower stall. But surely he wouldn’t hold her to the exact minute, she decided. He’d realize she was bound to be a little late what with all the hustle and bustle and the endless distractions around her. On the other hand, she had a hunch Adrian Saville was a man who valued punctuality. No sense kidding herself, she thought wryly. He would insist that she be where she said she would be when she said she would be there. Demanding punctuality was an element of control one could exert, and Adrian liked exerting control.
She thought about that as she ordered the cheese, realizing she had just had a strong insight into Adrian’s personality. He needed to be in control of his environment. He needed to be sure of things. Maybe she’d better hurry.
She handed her money to the cheese vendor and accepted the package of Parmesan. It was as she turned away to plunge back into the stream of foot traffic that a large, male tourist careered into her.
„Excuse me,“ Sara said hastily, hanging on to her armful of packages. „It’s so crowded here, I – “ She broke off as the man gripped her arm.
„Your uncle wants to see you,“ the stranger grated. His fingers tightened, digging into her skin through the fabric of her shirt. He began pushing her deeply into the passing crowd.
Sara nearly dropped her parcels. Her mouth fell open in shock. „My uncle!“
„Come on, lady, we don’t have time to waste.“
She looked up at him, taking in the narrowed dark eyes, the gray-streaked black hair and the aquiline cast of his features. She was suddenly very scared.
„Who are you?“ she managed, aware that she was being pushed toward the far end of the cobbled street. Around her the crowd ebbed and flowed. A string of cars vainly searching for the few parking spaces right next to the market stalls inched through the crowds. The flower stall was in the opposite direction. „What do you know about my uncle? And let go of my arm!“
The man didn’t answer, intent on making progress through a cluster of tourists wearing name tags that declared they were all from New York. They seemed to resent his insistence.
„Hey, watch it, buddy,“ one of the group snapped.
„I thought folks out here were supposed to be laid back, not pushy. I coulda stayed home if I wanted this kinda treatment,“ muttered a heavyset woman with a huge camera strung around her neck.
The man with the face of an eagle didn’t bother to respond. He simply forced his way through the grumbling tourists, pushing Sara ahead of him.
„Wait a minute,“ Sara gasped, beginning to panic. „I’m not going with you until you tell me who you are and what you know about my uncle! Now, unless you want me to start screaming – “
„Sara!“
She turned her head at the sound of Adrian’s voice. „Adrian! Over here.“
With a savage oath the man holding her arm released her. Sara spun around to watch him as he melted into the crowd. He disappeared in an instant.
„Sara, what the hell is going on?“ Adrian came up beside her, pushing aside a few more New Yorkers in the process. He paid no attention to their enraged lectures on manners. „When you didn’t show up at the flower stall on time, I figured you’d gotten lost. You’re just lucky I spotted you when you stepped out into the street a minute ago. Who was that guy?“
„He said my uncle wanted me,“ she gasped. „He grabbed my arm and started pushing me along as though I were a sack of potatoes or something. Adrian, he knew who I was! How could he possibly know me? I’ve never seen him before in my life. And how could he know about Uncle Lowell?“ She felt a wave of relief as she huddled against Adrian’s side. His arm wrapped around her waist, fastening her securely as he began propelling her back toward the car.
„What did he look like? Tell me his exact words, Sara,“ Adrian ordered.
Sara clutched her packages and tried to think. „He looked very vicious. Sort of like a hawk, and his eyes were mean.“
„Sara, that’s not exactly a description, that’s an emotional reaction, for heaven’s sake.“
„Well, I can’t help it. I didn’t have a lot of time,“ she defended herself. „He – he had dark eyes and dark hair that was turning gray. I’d say he was probably in his mid-forties. He was wearing very nondescript clothes. I can’t even remember what color his jacket was. He said my uncle wanted to see me and that we didn’t have a lot of time to waste.“
„Those were his only words?“
„I think so. He was quite rude. Just ask those New Yorkers.“
„He simply walked up to you and said that?“ Adrian demanded. „Nothing else?“
She shook her head, trying to think. „No, I don’t think so. I asked him who he was and what he knew about Uncle Lowell, but he didn’t answer me. I was getting ready to start screaming when you showed up, Adrian, I have to tell you, I was very glad to see you! In fact I was never so happy to see anyone in my life as I was to see you a few minutes ago!“ It was the truth, she realized. The sight of Adrian had meant safety.
They reached Adrian’s car and he unlocked the door. His eyes narrowed as he took her arm to settle her in the front seat. „You’re trembling.“
„That man scared me,“ she said evenly. „There was something very frightening about him.“
„Given the fact that it looks like he was trying to abduct you, I imagine he was somewhat scary,“ Adrian growled as he
slipped into the seat beside her and started the car. „The bastard. I should never have left you alone.“
„You know, I said he had hawklike features but you could describe them another way,“ she noted thoughtfully.
He slanted her a sharp glance. „How?“
„You could say that with those dark eyes and those strict features he looked a little like a wolf. Ruthless and potentially violent.“
Adrian froze, his hand resting on the steering wheel. „You’re letting your imagination get carried away again, Sara.“
„I don’t think so,“ she whispered, staring out the window. Behind them an impatient driver who wanted the parking space honked loudly.
With an oath Adrian put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He headed down toward the wharf and the ferry docks. „Sara, listen to me. I’m the writer in the crowd, remember? Leave the melodramatic touches to me.“
„But I didn’t get a really cold feeling,“ Sara went on, remembering her reaction. „I was scared and my palms got damp, but it wasn’t like the temperature dropped twenty degrees or anything.“
„For pete’s sake, it’s eighty-three degrees today! The meanest-looking guy in the world is hardly likely to make you feel as though the temperature dropped into the low sixties.“
„True,“ she admitted dryly. „And I suppose Uncle Lowell only used that bit about the temperature drop for effect.“
„Your uncle likes to tell a good tale and he’s quite happy to embellish it for a willing audience.“
Sara’s mouth curved upward. „I know. I’ve been a willing audience since I was five years old.“ But there had been something different about the way her uncle had described the man called Wolf. Sara hadn’t had the impression that her uncle was embroidering a story for her benefit. He had been in an oddly reflective mood the night he’d told her about the man he’d trained. Lowell Kincaid had been uncharacteristically quiet that evening. Almost morose.
‘ ‘Forget your uncle’s descriptive turn of phrase,’’ Adrian said grimly as he guided the car into the line of traffic waiting for the white ferryboat. „We’ve got more important problems on our hands, thanks to him.“
The Waiting Game Page 7
