“Happens all the time, right?” she offered.
“It happens.” He shrugged. “Not all the time.”
She decided to let that go. “Maybe we can show a pattern of fraud.”
“Very hard to do.”
He was right. She knew it. She walked to the corner of the desk and propped one hip on it. “All right, we’ve got nothing to give to the police. But I think the time has come to tell Sylvia what’s going on. She’s the CEO of Chatelaine’s, after all.”
“It’s your family and your company. You’re the boss. You make the call.”
She swung one leg absently. “We’ll tell them we’ve got evidence that Arden is working a scam through Austrey-Post and that we think he’s probably being assisted by someone inside the firm. That’s enough for now. There’s no point in alarming them with my theory that Aunt Vesta might have been murdered. I doubt if they’d believe me anyway.”
“I disagree,” Mack said. “If you’re going to tell them part of it, my advice is to tell them all of it.”
She stopped swinging her foot. “They’ll think I’m crazy. Literally.”
He shook his head. “They may decide you’re being overly suspicious, maybe even a little paranoid, but I doubt that they’ll think you’re crazy.”
“Damn. I wish we had more to go on.”
“What we need,” Mack said slowly, “is what your aunt was trying to get. Proof.”
“How do we do that?”
“I’m thinking about it. I’m the paid consultant here, remember? That’s what I do. Think about stuff and then consult.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah.” Without warning he put his hand on her thigh, just above her knee and squeezed gently. “Hmm.”
At the touch of his warm, strong fingers on her bare skin, she stiffened and looked down. She saw that the edge of her robe had parted slightly while she had been swinging her foot, exposing a portion of her leg.
A reasonably modest skirt with a slit would have shown just as much skin, but the fact that it was her robe that was open made the scene unbearably intimate.
He smiled slightly and moved his hand higher, his palm gliding up the inside of her thigh.
“Mack.”
He got to his feet and crowded close, very slowly, very deliberately, trapping her on the edge of the desk. He took his palm off her leg but instead of stepping back, he planted both hands on either side of her, caging her. She was suddenly breathless. Not the kind of panicky breathlessness that signaled an attack of acute anxiety; another sort altogether.
“This isn’t supposed to happen,” she managed. “Not while you’re, uh, working for me.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, effectively cutting off the small lecture. He raised his head slightly.
“I’ve been thinking about your company policy against fraternizing with employees.”
She swallowed twice. “What about it?”
“I believe that I have come up with a way to circumvent the issues involved.”
“How?”
“I quit,” he said very softly. “As of now I am no longer working for you. Is that clear?”
“Mack, for heaven’s sake—”
“I do not take your orders now.” Still bracketing her body with his arms, he leaned in close again and kissed her throat. “Your company policy regarding personal relationships between employer and employee no longer applies.”
A shiver of excitement spiraled through her. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” That was weak, she thought. Very weak.
“What we find ourselves dealing with here,” he whispered into the curve of her neck, “is a scenario in which two people who share a mutual physical attraction happen to be in extremely close proximity in the middle of the night.” He nipped the tip of her ear gently, letting her feel his teeth, though. “Furthermore, one of those two individuals is dressed in a nightgown.”
“And a robe,” she said. “The individual is also wearing a perfectly decent robe.”
His response to that was to remove his hands from the desk and untie the sash of the robe.
“The robe,” he said, pausing to look down, “is no longer decent.”
Heat rose through her, a deep tide of desire that made her shudder. She put her hands on his shoulders, feeling for the hard muscles beneath the black T-shirt
“What do you think we ought to do now,” he asked, “given that we no longer have a company policy to guide us?”
She swallowed again and tightened her hands on his shoulders. “We could always substitute common sense for company policy.”
“I don’t think that common sense will get us where we want to be.”
“Where is that?”
“In bed. Together.”
In a single gliding motion he parted her knees and stepped between them. His arms went around her inside the robe. She had only an instant to register the shock of his hard thighs between her legs and then he was leaning into her, capturing her mouth with his own.
The thrills flashed through her in disorienting waves of exquisite sensation. Why was she fighting this? She wondered. It wasn’t as if they weren’t two mature adults. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known somewhere in the back of her mind that this could happen when she walked into the study dressed in a nightgown and robe a short time ago. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t falling in love with Mack.
It wasn’t as if she wasn’t already in love with Mack.
Deliberately he deepened the kiss. She felt his hand on her leg again, pushing the nightgown higher on her thighs. Balanced on the desk, her legs apart, there was nothing to shield her from his probing fingers. She sucked in her breath when he stroked her intimately.
Unable to resist, she reached down and found the zipper of his pants. She started to lower it, brushing against the full, firm shape of his erection.
He groaned at her touch and quickly stopped the movement by covering her hand with his own.
“I’d better do that,” he muttered.
Carefully he eased the zipper downward. And then he was free, thrusting himself into her waiting hands. She grasped him and tugged gently, savoring the feel of him and the certain knowledge of his desire.
He cupped her buttocks in his hands, pulled her to the very edge of the desk and sank himself slowly into her. She sucked in a deep breath, framed his face between her palms and kissed him back with a sensual ferocity that matched his own.
The feeling of fullness was maddening. The tension inside her reached the breaking point. The world fell away and she tumbled through space.
In that delicious, intense moment when everything was out of control, he was suddenly there with her in the very heart of the sweet, hot chaos.
Along time later he stirred, scooped her off the desk and carried her out of the study.
She nestled comfortably against his chest. “Where are we going?”
“To find a bed.”
“Good idea.” She munched on his earlobe. “Much more comfortable.” She paused when she realized that he had started up the hall stairs. “You’re actually going to carry me up those stairs?”
“Or collapse trying.”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen. I can walk, really I can.”
“I believe you. But this is a challenge. You know how guys are when it comes to a challenge.”
He was on the third step now, not even breathing hard yet. She could tell that he was moving easily.
She traced the outline of his shoulder with one fingertip. “You’re in pretty good shape.”
“For a man my age, you mean?” He paused to catch his breath on the landing. “Gee, thanks.”
“You’re in excellent shape for a man of any age,” she murmured in her huskiest tones.
“I appreciate the sentiment.” He got her through the bedroom doorway, dropped her onto the bed and fell on top of her with a soft, heartfelt groan. “But having met and overcome the challenge, I may let you walk up the stairs next time.�
�
Next time. She wondered how to take that. A casual, throwaway remark? An indication that he expected this convenient arrangement to last as long as they were working together? Or was he implying the possibility of a long-term affair?
Best not to speculate, she thought, turning her face into his shoulder. Not tonight. She would only drive herself around the bend wondering about the future. She did not want anything to spoil the few remaining hours until dawn.
She could always have a nervous breakdown later.
Twenty
The deep, reverberating chimes of the doorbell brought her awake with an unnerving shot of adrenaline. She sat straight up in bed, blinking, and tried to orient herself. Morning light, filtered by an overcast sky and light rain, streamed in through a window that framed a familiar bay and cityscape.
It was the bedroom that was unfamiliar. Mack’s room. Not the one she had been using since arriving at the villa.
The chimes sounded again, seemingly more urgent this time. Beside her, Mack growled a few unintelligible words and shoved aside the covers.
“I’ll get it,” he said.
He rolled to his feet and reached for his pants. She punched up the pillow and allowed herself to revel in the sight of his nude body. He had a very nice back, she thought. Almost sculptural.
She did not get to enjoy the vision for long. As soon as he stepped into his jeans, he headed for the door, feet and chest still bare. He vanished down the hall.
Cady heard his footsteps on the staircase and then the front door opened.
“Dad.” The female voice rose to an anguished wail. “What’s going on? Mrs. Thompson told me that there’s a realtor coming to look at the house today. How could you do that?”
Mack’s daughter. Cady scrambled out from beneath the covers, rose and grabbed the robe that had ended up on the floor beside the bed. When she was ready she hurried out onto the balcony and looked down.
Mack and his daughter were in the front hall.
“What are you doing here, Gabriella?” Mack asked.
“I called Mrs. Thompson. I wanted to ask her to send me a jacket I left behind the last time I was home. She mentioned that she was going to clean today because you had arranged for a realtor to stop by this afternoon. I couldn’t believe it.”
“How did you get here?” Mack asked calmly.
“I took the bus from Santa Cruz to San Francisco and then caught the ferry—” Gabriella broke off, staring at Cady. “Who are you?”
“Good morning.” Cady smiled down at her. Gabriella’s eyes were so like Mack’s, it was impossible not to smile. “I’m Cady Briggs.”
“You’re her.” Anguish and fury etched Gabriella’s pretty face. “You’re the freelancer who screwed up that job he did for Notch and Dewey. This is all your fault.”
“Gabriella.” Mack spoke quietly, authority vibrating in his voice. “That’s enough. Have a seat in the living room. Cady and I will get dressed. We’ll have breakfast somewhere and talk.”
Gabriella clenched her fists at her sides. “Why would I want to eat breakfast with your mistress?”
“I said that’s enough, Gabriella. Sit down and pull yourself together. You’re too old for this kind of tantrum.”
Cady winced but said nothing. This was not her daughter, she reminded herself.
“You did it because of her, didn’t you?” Tears thickened Gabriella’s voice. “You’re selling our home because you’re having an affair with her. Is this one of those middle-aged crazy things that men go through?”
“Sit down.” Mack turned toward the stairs. “I told you, we’ll talk later.”
“How could you do it, Dad? How could you put our home on the market?”
Mack did not respond. He took the steps two at a time. When he reached the balcony, he brushed past Cady. His jaw was rigid.
“Sorry about this,” he muttered in a low voice, pausing at the bedroom doorway. “I always leave word where she can reach me when I’m away from home.”
“Of course. Only natural. Don’t worry about it.”
Down below, Gabriella stomped into the living room and disappeared from view.
“She’s a lovely young woman, Mack.”
“She’s behaving like a teenage brat at the moment.”
“It’s always a shock to discover that your parents have a sex life.”
“This isn’t about my sex life. It’s about the house.”
“Whatever.” She started toward her own bedroom. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get dressed, too. But I think I’ll let you and Gabriella have breakfast together without me, if you don’t mind.”
“No. I want you there.”
“It will be awkward.”
His mouth twisted. “You’re right. What the hell was I thinking? It’s not fair to ask you to sit through an unpleasant scene with a temperamental kid. I’ll deal with Gabriella. She’s my daughter, not yours.”
Cady hesitated. “Don’t be too hard on her, Mack. She’s obviously very upset about this. And she’s at a difficult age.”
“I’ve got news for you, Cady. Speaking as a parent, I can assure you that all the ages are difficult.”
A wistful sensation drifted through her. Speaking as a parent. She could not do that. “You’re the expert, so I won’t argue. All the same, promise me you’ll go easy. Speaking as a woman, I can tell you that she’s genuinely hurt and probably a little afraid of the future.”
His expression didn’t soften much but some of the bleakness faded from his eyes. “Okay, I’ll keep it in mind.”
He closed the door.
She went on down the hall toward her room. She had her hand on the doorknob when something made her pause and look out over the balcony again.
Gabriella was watching her from the curved entrance to the living room. Her face was flushed and tight with anger.
On impulse Cady took her hand off the doorknob and went toward the staircase. This was probably not the smart thing to do, she thought. This was not her problem. She and Mack were casual lovers, at best. A couple of ships passing in the night.
She winced. All right, so maybe the sex wasn’t exactly casual. But the relationship certainly could not be described as serious. It wasn’t as if she was going to have a permanent role in the lives of Mack and Gabriella. Better to stay out of this situation. Let Mack and his daughter work through their issues.
Gabriella did not move when Cady reached the bottom of the stairs. She stood there, glowering resentfully, shoulders hunched, arms tightly folded, cheeks damp.
“Gabriella?” Cady kept her voice low. “Would you like to talk privately with me?”
“Why would I want to talk to you? We don’t have anything to discuss.”
“I disagree. We seem to have a mutual interest in your father.”
“Stay away from him. This is all your fault. I knew something happened on that last job. I knew it.”
“Why does that worry you?”
Gabriella tensed. “It doesn’t worry me. He won’t keep you around long. He never gets serious about any of his women.”
“Because of you?”
“Because of my mother.”
“No,” Cady said. “I don’t think so.”
“He loved her.”
“Yes, of course he did.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s not hard to tell.”
For a moment Gabriella looked bewildered. “Why would he talk to you about my mother? He never talks about her to his one-night stands.”
“Maybe he told me about her because I told him a few things about my first marriage.” Cady went past her toward the kitchen. “I think the pop-psych people call it ‘sharing.’ What’s all this about a realtor coming to your house today?”
“You know what it’s about.” With obvious reluctance, Gabriella trailed after her. “He started talking about selling our home after he came back from that job you screwed up.”
Cady picked up the kettle and wen
t to the sink to fill it. “Gabriella, you’re not tracking here. You just told me that your father never gets serious about any of his female friends. Now you tell me I wield enough power over him to force him to put a house on the market? For the record, I’m not in the real estate business.”
“If that’s supposed to be funny—”
“Forget it.” Cady put the kettle on the stove and switched on the burner. “Want some tea?”
“No.”
Cady picked up a package of English muffins. “Want one?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She took one of the muffins out of the package, separated it and dropped both halves into the toaster.
Gabriella watched in ill-concealed irritation. “Dad said we were going to eat breakfast out.”
“You and your father can have breakfast together. I’m going to eat here. I’d rather not get involved in your family quarrel.”
“Dad and I don’t quarrel. We never quarrel.” Gabriella’s lip trembled. “At least not about important stuff like this.”
Cady nodded. “Probably because your father usually goes out of his way to make you happy.”
Gabriella shot her a fierce look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing much.” Cady took some cream cheese out of the refrigerator. “Just out of curiosity, what do you do to make him happy?”
There was a short, shocked silence before Gabriella sputtered back into words.
“Don’t make it sound like I manipulate him,” she hissed. “That’s not how it is.”
“It’s called guilt-tripping and something tells me you’re very, very good at it.”
Gabriella paled. “Why do you say that? It’s not true. I don’t try to make him feel guilty.”
“Why do you think he put the house up for sale?”
“I don’t know.” Gabriella sounded anguished now. “Something is happening to him. He’s been acting weird for a while and it got a whole lot worse after he hired you to consult on that last project.”
“Maybe he’s doing the same thing you’re doing in college.”
Gabriella stared at her. “The same thing? What’s that?”
“Getting on with his life.”
There was a short, stark silence.
Lost and Found Page 21
