Marc was shaking his head slowly, a little dazed. “Alex, really, I’m not qualified.”
“You let me be the judge of that. Plan on the twenty-seventh to the thirtieth. All you need to bring are some clothes and personal things. We’ll have everything else. I’ll have Jackie call you.”
Jackie nodded, but before Marc could respond, Alex continued. “By the way, Jackie, did you get those tickets for Universal Studios?”
“Yes, I did. They came today.”
“Good. Marc, every now and then we get what we call ‘trades,’ free tickets for services we render. How would your boys like to spend the day at Universal Studios?”
“They’d be delighted.” He was suddenly suspicious. “Are you sure they’re free?”
“Jackie, tell him.”
“Completely. And they’re VIP passes.”
“In fact, just the other day, Jackie was saying how long it’s been since she’s been out there.” He nudged Marc. “We’ve got four passes.”
“Alex!” She blushed instantly, and it was clear that Alex had caught her by surprise too.
“I’d be delighted,” Marc said. “But going with two boys is hardly the way to enjoy the day.”
“I think your boys are darling. I’d love to go with all of you, but…” She shot Alex a dirty look, but he was beaming innocently.
“Then it’s settled,” Marc said. There was no need to feign his pleasure. To spend the day with Jackie would be tough duty indeed.
Alex was pleased with himself and didn’t try hard not to show it. “That’s great. Well, I’ve got to run. See you later. We’ll keep in touch, Marc.” And he was gone.
For a moment the two of them stood there, both a little embarrassed. “Look, Marc. I didn’t expect that. Alex sometimes—”
“You heard the man. If you really don’t mind taking the boys, I really would be delighted to have you with us.”
She looked up at him closely, then smiled. “I would like that too. Very much.”
“Good.” He reached in his pocket and extracted the car keys. “Do you want to drive?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “Are you kidding? And ruin your image with the security guard?”
Barclay’s black Lincoln Mark VII came out of the parking lot first, followed closely by the blue Lamborghini. The Lincoln turned south, the sports car north. In a parked car half a block away, Nathan Shoshani lowered his binoculars and picked up a microphone. “Shana, did you get confirmation on those plates yet?”
A woman’s voice, heavily accented, responded almost immediately. “Both the Lincoln and the Lamborghini are registered to Barclay Enterprises in El Segundo.”
“Thank you.” Shoshani pushed the button on the mike again. “Yehuda, you take Barclay. We’ll take the new man and the girl.”
There was no response, but a second car a block down the street pulled out and fell in a discreet distance behind the Lincoln. Nathan let the Lamborghini pass him, waited for two more cars, then started the engine and pulled a quick U-turn. As he accelerated, he reached across to a pad and jotted down some quick notes.
Chapter Eleven
“Mom?”
Mary Robertson looked up from the book she was reading. The late afternoon sun came in from the window, framing her in soft back light.
“Mr. Williams called today.”
“Mr. Williams?”
Valerie was on the couch, folding Matt’s shirts and jeans. She paused, not looking up. “Yes, my boss in Denver.”
The book lowered slowly to rest in Mary’s lap. “Oh?”
“My job has come open again.”
There was a brief deepening of the wrinkles around her eyes. Valerie looked at her more intently, trying to read the expression, but with her face in shadow, it was difficult. “He offered me a substantial raise if I come back.”
“I see.” Mary picked up the book again.
Valerie waited a moment, but when her mother continued reading, she sat up straighter. “You’re pretty well back on your feet again now, and it’s time I go back to work. The only thing I’ve been able to find here is in downtown L. A. I don’t relish driving forty miles in that traffic twice a day.”
“And Marc is on a yacht in sunny Mexico, with one Jacqueline Ashby, who is charming and very beautiful.”
“Mother!”
“Well, as long as you’re listing the reasons, let’s get them all out on the table.”
“Mom! You’ve been trying to match Marc and me ever since you started working for him.”
“That’s right, and it took having kidney stones to finally do it.”
“Well, it isn’t going to work.”
“Not if you go back to Colorado.”
“Not if I stay, either!” She dropped her head and started folding the clothes with quick, hard strokes. Mary watched her for a minute, then closed the book and set it aside.
“Valerie, don’t let Jackie blind you.”
“Blind me!” she blurted. “What about Marc? She’s all he seems to see lately. He’s taken her to dinner, to a concert. And two weeks afterward, Brett and Matt still talk about what a wonderful time they had with her at Universal Studios. And Baja!” She spit the word out with distaste.
“I guess you’re right,” her mother mused. “The fact that Marc invited Jackie for a cruise on his private yacht does put her one up on you.”
Valerie bit back a sharp retort, then got up and moved over to sit on the floor in front of her mother. “All right, so Alex invited him. But Jackie’s there!”
“Not by Marc’s doing.”
Valerie sighed and started drawing patterns idly on the carpet.
“And who did Marc take to that Christmas party at Mr. Barclay’s house last week? Jackie was there too. If Marc was as serious about Jackie as you seem to think, would he have taken you to that, knowing she would be there?”
“And do you know how I felt around those other women, Mom? I felt like a little girl in pigtails, come to a grownup party to stand in the corner and watch. Jackie, Jessica Gerritt, Ardith Barclay. Everyone with their hair just done, and their elegant clothes, and…” She stopped, biting her lip, close to tears.
“I thought you liked Ardith Barclay.”
“I do. She is a lovely and gracious woman. I think she and I could be good friends. But even she is so far out of my class, Mother.” She shook her head forlornly.
Mary leaned forward slightly and waited until Valerie looked up at her. “I chided Marc once for thinking he was outclassed by the Wilshire Country Club. Am I going to have to start giving you lectures on what constitutes real class and what doesn’t?”
Valerie sighed, smiling in spite of herself. “Tell me how classy I am. I could use a little propaganda right now.”
Her mother didn’t return the smile. “Valerie, you know I’m hoping and praying that something will work out for you and Marc. Nothing could make me happier. But I’m not interfering. I have not pushed Marc in any way—not hinted, not arranged things behind the scenes—which,” she added with just a trace of asperity, “is not true for Alex Barclay, as near as I can tell. But be that as it may, I know my daughter, and I know Marc Jeppson.”
She took a deep breath, picked up the book again, and found her place. Then and only then did she look at her daughter again. “I’ll only say this. I think you’re selling yourself short, and I think you’re selling Marc short. And your boss in Colorado better make that raise a mighty big one, because it’s going to take a lot to cover what you’ll lose by leaving here.”
Valerie would have been quite surprised to know that at that very moment Marc was not with Jackie, but sitting in a deck chair, eyes wide open behind his sunglasses, watching the people around him. They had been anchored off Ensenada for a full three days. The first two days had been filled with skin diving, deep sea fishing, shopping in the village, and long walks along the beach. Now, everyone seemed content to spend their last afternoon langourously and lazily on board ship.
John DeLorean. That’s who Marc thought of when he looked at Gerritt. His physical presence was almost electric, but there was something deep in the man that was like rock. No nerves, no blood, no pulse.
Taylor Canning was military all the way. He was genial, open and friendly, yet always precise and ordered, cutting through any superficialities. Marc liked him.
Alex? Marc smiled inwardly as he watched him. There was a lot of depth in the man yet to be probed, but Marc knew he would like what he found there. Not that there weren’t weaknesses and flaws—a tendency to flamboyance, the attitude that people were markers in an intriguing game, a slight streak of underlying cynicism. But there was also his enthusiasm for life, the acceptance of every challenge as a shot of adrenalin in life’s blood stream, his total devotion to Ardith.
Marc turned to where she sat talking with Jackie and the general’s wife. Casual elegance. That was Alex’s phrase for his wife, and Marc nodded now as he thought of the term. Here was one of Alex Barclay’s most important assets.
Jackie looked up, saw him watching her, and flashed him a warm smile. He smiled back, then turned to look at the two figures sunning in the deck chairs near the main cabins. Derek Parkin lay next to the latest bauble he had added to his string, his pale skin sharply contrasting with the tawny gold of hers. Gaylene. Marc could never remember her last name. She was a stunning ash blond with flawless skin, bright green eyes, and beautiful features that covered one of the most inane minds Marc had yet encountered. But then, one didn’t have to be too shrewd to guess that Gaylene’s mind was not what had won her Derek’s invitation to join the cruise.
Marc shifted his gaze slightly to Derek. Here was a hard one to read. The outer man was quick, competent, and very assured. The inner man? Marc had decided to set aside judgment on him for now. But one word kept cropping up when he thought of Derek. A user. Derek Parkin was a user. Of things. Of people. Of opportunities. It surprised him a little that Alex had hired him as an executive vice president of Barclay Enterprises.
On the other side of the deck, Jessica Gerritt lay tanning in her white bikini. Marc was warming to his little game of categorizing people in a single word or phrase. Iced mink, that was how he thought of Jessica Gerritt. Cool, infinitely poised, sophisticated down to the tips of her brightly painted toenails. And as aloof and superior as her husband.
And what of Jackie? He swung back to watch her talking with the two older women. He studied her, comparing her to Jessica and Gaylene. And Valerie. That brought a slight frown, and he lay back and closed his eyes. Though many might have chosen either Jessica or Gaylene over Jackie on the basis of pure physical beauty, with Marc it was just the opposite, though he knew his judgment was colored by what each was like inside as well as out. In contrast to Jessica’s icy superiority and Gaylene’s mental vacant lot, Jackie was bright, warm, genuine, and open. She had an ability to put him completely at ease, and yet did so without becoming doting or patronizing.
Last night, on their way back from shopping and dinner in the village, he and Jackie had left the others to walk along the beach. They had stopped and talked, and he had felt himself drawn to her powerfully. But at the last moment, as she tipped her head up to him, he backed away, turning to stare out across the water. It had been an awkward moment, and the hurt was evident on her face.
He suspected Jackie had blamed his sudden loss of nerve on the memory of his wife floating up at the last moment to jab him with guilt. But now, with more clarity than he had had then, Marc realized that what had come between him and Jackie was not the memory of Lynette. It was Valerie—Valerie with a loveliness all her own;Valerie with an inner depth like a quiet pool where one came for strength and rejuvenation.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. For two years he had gone on with life, lonely and missing Lynette, fiercely at first, but later content to be alone with the boys. He had firmly and successfully resisted the numerous efforts of the inevitable matchmakers and maintained his stance. Then suddenly, almost at the same time, two remarkable women had entered his life. Most men would have accepted such a fate with joy. Marc only found it more and more frustrating.
Suddenly, he felt hands on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and removed his sunglasses. Jackie was standing behind him, and began to massage his neck muscles softly. She smiled. “Did I wake you?”
“No.”
Closing his eyes again, he let the relaxing pressure on his shoulders soothe him. “Ardith has sent me over with a request.”
His eyes opened again.
“Alex would like to take us to dinner tonight. Just the four of us.”
“Oh?” He sat up, and she came around and sat beside him. Her hand lay easily on his arm.
“I don’t know for sure, but I think you are about to become the official Near Eastern consultant for Barclay Enterprises.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She smiled. “And I’m glad. I think you’ll be a great asset.”
“Thank you.” That meant Alex had liked his report on the prince and his recommendation for a gift.
“Want to go for a swim?”
He looked up at her, sensing her hesitancy at leading out after last night’s rejection. She submitted to his scrutiny with a faint smile. There was no question about it, he concluded. She was one lovely woman. He rubbed his arm, feeling the heat of the sun on it, then stood and pulled her up. “Why not?” he said with a grin.
It was past ten when they finally finished dessert, and Alex pushed back his chair. He fumbled in the side pocket of his jacket and came out with a package of cigarettes. Ardith’s eyes widened, and then she frowned.
“Alex.” The gentle reproof was evident.
“Now don’t you be Alexing me,” he said with mock severity. “This is my first cigarette in almost a week.” He took a matchbook from the table, lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply.
“You know what Dr. Goodrich said about your heart.”
“I know, I know. And I’ve almost quit.” He turned to Marc. “Have you ever smoked?”
He shook his head.
“Smart. I wish I had never started.” He inhaled again deeply, then set the cigarette in the ashtray and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “Well,” he said, looking steadily at Marc, “I suppose you guessed there may have been more to this invitation than just a chance to get to know you better.”
How did you answer that? Yes, that’s all I’ve thought about for the last four hours? No, Alex, I’ve always trusted your surface motives, and I never gave it a second thought? He just watched, keeping his face expressionless.
“You probably sensed that General Canning and Quinn Gerritt were invited on this trip for more than social reasons.”
Marc nodded.
“There are some things starting to shape up. One of those opportunities that doesn’t come along every day.”
Marc picked up his spoon and toyed with it absently, his eyes never leaving Alex’s face.
“It could be very big.” Pause. Alex was choosing his words carefully.”It will heavily involve the Saudis.”
Here it comes. Marc felt his excitement rising.
Alex leaned back, picked up the cigarette, looked at it, then set it back down again. “Marc, what would it take to get you away from the Claremont Colleges?”
Marc had started to twirl the spoon, but it stopped in midair.
Alex grinned. “I thought maybe I could catch you off guard with that.”
Marc set the spoon down slowly.
“I happen to know what your current salary is. I’ll double it.”
Marc looked at Ardith, who smiled gently at his dazed expression. Then he turned to Jackie. She reached over and squeezed his hand. Finally, he looked back at Alex.<
br />
Alex laughed aloud at the expression on his face. “You didn’t suspect it at all?”
Marc shook his head. “I thought maybe you wanted to talk about me being a consultant, but…” He shook his head again.
“Well, then, while I’ve got you reeling, let me close in for the kill. I took the liberty of speaking with the dean of your college. I wanted to know what the possibilities were before I approached you.”
“The dean?”
“Yes. I explained the whole situation.” He laughed again. “Well, at least enough of it to let him know that this would be a great opportunity for you, and that the experience you’d gain would benefit the college as well. He agreed. If you accept, they will grant you a one year’s leave of absence, beginning January first.”
“January first! That’s the day after tomorrow!”
“Well, actually, that’s when your official leave of absence begins. But since you’re already on holiday, how about saying that you started working for me the day we left Los Angeles? Can you handle being paid full salary for lying around in the sun?”
Marc was speechless, much to their amusement. Jackie spoke first, to Alex. “I do think you should point out to Marc that this is not a typical work week.”
“Wait until we have a yes answer from him, then we’ll break the realities of life to him.”
“The leave of absence is ideal in a way,” Ardith said. “You can try this for a while. If you don’t like it, you can go back to Claremont with no real loss. And if you do like it, well, who knows what might come of it?”
“But—what would I do?”
“Well, for starters, you said you’ve been dying to get into Saudi Arabia. If all goes well, we’ll both end up going there in the next few months. Probably several times.”
Marc held up his hands. “Whoa! Would you stop throwing right hooks at me until I get my head cleared.”
Alex now became very serious. “This may seem sudden to you, Marc, but it isn’t for me. I’ve been thinking about this ever since that day at the Country Club. You’re exactly what I need.”
“But I’m not a businessman.”
Gerald N. Lund 4-In-1 Fiction eBook Bundle Page 68
