Just thinking about seeing her this morning had made it easy to get up after only a few hours’ sleep. He’d even found himself singing while he showered, something he hadn’t done since his college roommate had threatened to drown him if he ever sang another note.
Now it was six forty-five and he was still sitting here by himself, waiting for a woman he was beginning to suspect wasn’t going to show.
At five past seven, Gray dumped what remained of his cold coffee in the trash and headed for the telephone bank. Maybe she’d overslept. Maybe she was sick. Maybe he shouldn’t have let her drive home alone.
He dialed her home number. The phone rang six times before a mechanical voice informed him that no one was available to take his call.
At the tone, leave…
Gray slammed down the phone. A robot’s voice had more warmth.
Calm down, he told himself. Calm down, there’s probably a simple explanation…and there was. He turned his back to the telephone and saw Dawn standing near one of the shops, looking cool and polite and pleasant as she made conversation with a guy wearing a robe. She had a pad and pencil in her hand. She’d started her work day. Gray could feel his blood pressure soar. She glanced at him as he walked toward her and though she paled a little, she didn’t flinch.
The man took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you for all your help, Miss Carter.”
“My pleasure, Prince Ahmat.”
Gray waited until the prince strolled off. Then he spoke softly and, he hoped, carefully.
“Did you get here late?”
Dawn shook her head.
“Was there some monumental problem with that gentleman, something you had to deal with or your job would have been in jeopardy?”
“No.”
She spoke softly. He read the word on her lips more than heard it.
His control was slipping. Hell, it was racing away. She was looking at him as if he were a stranger and last night had never happened.
“You’re not home sick. You’re not an oil spot on the road. I mean, that’s what I figured. That you were doubled over with some bug you picked up at dinner, or that I’d been an idiot to let you drive home alone…” He stopped, dragged in a breath and told himself to take it easy. “Where were you this morning? Did you forget you were meeting me?”
“I didn’t forget.” She folded her arms, though it looked more like she was wrapping them around herself. “And I apologize. I should have phoned, I know.”
“You know.” Gray’s mouth thinned. “What is it with you? Do you get a kick out of letting men think you’re interested and then standing them up?”
Her spine stiffened. “You have no right to say that.”
“I have every right. This is twice you’ve done this, lady. How many chances does a guy usually give you to make an ass out of him?”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
He caught hold of her arm. “Yes, you do.”
“Gray.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and spoke quietly. “Please, don’t make a scene.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet that’s what you count on.” He let go of her and dug both hands into the pockets of his chinos. “You give a man that `don’t hurt me’ look and you figure he’ll just walk away with his tail between his legs.”
It was a cruel thing to say, knowing what he did about her husband. He hated himself for it as soon as the words were out of his mouth but it was too late to call them back and besides, when had she given a damn about him? He stood his ground, teeth clenched, as she started to walk away and then he cursed, went after her and stepped out in her path. She tried to dodge around him but he wouldn’t let her.
“Okay. Maybe that was pushing it, but—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Dammit, it does matter. Look, I’m sorry I said that, okay?”
Instead of trying to move past him, she stood still and put her hand on his arm. “People are watching,” she said, and somehow it only made him angry, that the very first time she’d touched him it was in defense.
“Let them,” he said gruffly. “I don’t care.”
“But I do. My job…” She drew a ragged breath. “Look. I owe you an apology.”
Just that quickly, he felt his temper dissipate. He smiled, moved closer to her. “No. I owe you one. If you couldn’t meet me—”
“Not about that. I mean, I should apologize for not telling you, to your face, that I was calling things off.” She licked her lips nervously. “I can’t see you anymore, Gray. That’s why I didn’t keep our date this morning.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“It’s the same thing.” She took her hand from his arm and stepped back. “And I’m working, so—”
“Dawn.” He snatched her wrist as she began turning away. “What the hell’s going on here? One minute you want to be with me. The next, you don’t. “
“Nothing’s going on.” Her eyes flew to his. “I should have told you last night. I don’t want to see you ag—”
“Miss Carter? Is there a problem?”
Gray swung around. A face-off with Keir O’Connell was the last thing he wanted right now, but it wasn’t Keir who had come up behind him, it was a man in a dark suit with salt and pepper hair, a ruddy face and a smile that didn’t come close to concealing the threat in his blue eyes.
“Mr. Coyle.” Dawn breathed the name as if it were a prayer. “No. No problem. This gentleman—Mr. Baron—was just—he was just asking me some questions about the hotel.”
“Mr. Baron.” Dan nodded. “I’m Dan Coyle. Head of security at the Desert Song. Perhaps I can assist you.”
“I don’t need assistance,” Gray said brusquely. “I was just on my way out.”
“Ah.” Coyle smiled, though his gaze remained icy. “In that case, sir, I won’t keep you…but please remember that I’m always ready to offer whatever aid you might need.”
Gray smiled thinly. The message was clear. He’d been warned to watch his step.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Coyle, but it’s not necessary. I assure you, I’ve had enough of this place and its people.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Dan said politely.
He watched as Baron stalked to the door. Then he looked at Dawn. He couldn’t read the expression on her face. Was she angry? Frightened? Distraught? Whatever she was, the Baron man had put that look there, and Dan didn’t like it.
“Dawn? Is everything all right?” he said softly.
He thought he’d never seen anything that took more effort than the smile she flashed at him.
“Yes. Everything is fine. Thank you for—well, thank you.”
“Listen to me, girl. If you need me, you call me. Not just here,” he added gruffly, before she could answer. “Anywhere. If you run into somebody who causes you grief, you call me and I’ll be there before you can blink. Okay?”
Dawn said that she would. Dan didn’t believe her but he smiled, gave her shoulder a fatherly pat and waited until she’d gone to her office. Then he picked up the house phone and dialed Keir’s private office.
“Coyle here.” He spoke softly, cupping the phone, his back to the lobby. “Keir, I need to see you. I think something’s brewing with Baron and the lady. No, I don’t know what it is but I’m going to tell Snyder to keep an eye on her.” Dan dropped his voice even lower. “And I have some information… Yes. Fine. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Dan hung up the phone. He hadn’t wanted to believe that Baron had any connection to Dawn’s past. It didn’t seem possible that such a man would even know a scumbag like her husband but he’d put out feelers for more information and just this morning, he’d learned something that made no sense.
Gray Baron had flown to Queen City right before he’d turned up in Las Vegas. That had to mean he’d met with Harman Kitteridge. Why? He’d been turning the question over in his mind when he spotted Baron and Dawn. The anger in the man’s face and the fear in hers had been
as visible as the sign that blinked outside the hotel.
Dan rolled his thumb over his pursed lips. Should he tell Dawn what he’d learned? No. Why frighten her until he had some answers? From now on, he or his man would be watching her.
Slowly he walked to the front door of the hotel. Baron was just getting into a cab. It was probably too much to hope he was heading for the airport, and out of Dawn’s life.
* * *
“The airport,” Gray said, as the taxi pulled away from the hotel.
The cab’s air conditioner was making noise but it didn’t seem to be working. That was fine. The blast of hot desert air was a welcome jolt of reality. To hell with Dawn Kitteridge or Dawn Carter or whatever she called herself, and to hell with Jonas and the guilt trip he’d laid on him.
Enough was enough. There was only one way to end this, and no reason to put it off.
He was ticked off, maybe more than he had a right to be. He calmed down enough to know that as he walked into the terminal at McLarran. The truth was that Dawn didn’t owe him anything, not even the courtesy of a “Sorry, I’ve changed my mind,” phone call. He’d figured on leaving Vegas in a couple of days. What had just happened simply speeded his departure. As for his uncle…if Jonas wanted a snoop, let him hire one because he was finished playing detective. Auf Wiedersehen, adios, au revoir. If the old man didn’t like it, he could bribe, browbeat or cajole somebody else.
Last night, he’d decided to fly to Espada to tell his uncle exactly that. Of course, his motives had been a little different at two in the morning. After that evening spent with Dawn, after those soft kisses, he’d decided he didn’t want to go on with the deception. If he was going to get involved with her, he wasn’t going to be Jonas’s pawn…
Which only proved how unreliable middle-of-the-night thoughts could be.
Involved? Gray snorted as he got on the end of a Southwest ticket line. A fancy word for what he’d wanted. A few more days in Vegas, a week, maybe, a little time spent in introducing Dawn to the pleasures of sex, was all the “involvement” he’d intended. Well, that was over. He was leaving Vegas ASAP. He’d have headed back to his room and packed after the confrontation with Coyle but he’d be damned if he’d let it look as if the interfering old son of a bitch had run him off.
So he’d fly to Austin first, tell Jonas what little he knew. How much information did his uncle need before he decided whether or not to put the granddaughter of a long-dead friend in his will? Either he’d be satisfied or he wouldn’t. Gray didn’t give a damn anymore.
This whole quest, whatever you wanted to call it, had been crazy from the start, not just Jonas’s desire to right a wrong but his role in it. He’d met a woman a couple of days ago and she’d turned his life inside out. He’d never let a woman have that kind of effect on him and now he knew why. Giving a woman such power was a hell of an uncomfortable feeling. A little while ago, he’d been torn between wanting to grab Dawn by the shoulders and shaking her, or hauling her into his arms and kissing her. That didn’t make him happy. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked emotional roller coasters.
He was done with digging into her life. What did it matter if he couldn’t forget the feel of her mouth under his, the soft intake of her breath when he’d cupped her face in his hands? What if he still couldn’t believe she was the woman Harman described…
…or believe her when she’d said that she didn’t want to see him again?
“Good morning, sir.” The ticket clerk smiled politely. “How may I help you?”
Gray cleared his throat. “I want to get to Austin as soon as possible.”
The clerk’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I have a seat on a plane boarding in half an hour.”
“That’s fine,” Gray said, and blanked his mind to everything but the business of buying his ticket.
* * *
He called ahead and reserved a rental car at Austin. By noon, he was walking up the steps at Espada. The housekeeper opened the door and smiled broadly.
“Mr. Graham, how nice to see you.”
He’d given up trying to convince her to drop the “mister” years back, and he was in no mood to take up the battle today.
“Hello, Carmen. Is the old man in?”
“Yes, certainly. He’s on the deck. Come in, please. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“I’ll tell him myself.”
Gray brushed past her, went through the house and out to the waterfall deck. His uncle was lying on a chaise longue, eyes closed, a light blanket drawn over him despite the warmth of the sun. He looked old and tired. The anger that had been building inside Gray toward the old man for getting him into this mess began to fade.
He sighed, sat down to wait, but Jonas must have sensed his presence because he opened his eyes.
“Graham?”
“Yes. Hello, Jonas. I guess I should have phoned to tell you I was coming.”
“Why? You afraid I might be too busy for a chat?” His uncle laughed and sat up. “Good to see you. What brings you to Espada?”
“You sent me to find Dawn Lincoln Kitteridge, remember?”
“Carmen?” Jonas’s voice cracked, but it had the same timbre as ever. “Carmen! Where in blazes are you?” He glared at Gray. “‘Course I remember. It’s my blood’s gone bad, not my brain. I take it you found her.”
“Yes.”
“Good, good. You want somethin’ to cool your throat? Beer? Bourbon?” Jonas made a face as the housekeeper poked her head out the door. “Not that she’ll let me have bourbon, not even with Marta gone for the day. Ain’t that right, Carmen?”
“I’ll be happy to bring you water or juice, Mr. Baron, and to bring Mr. Graham whatever he wishes.”
“Iced water would be fine,” Gray said.
Jonas sighed heavily. “Yeah, yeah, make it two.”
He sat back and turned his face to the sun. Gray thought he might have dozed off again but once Carmen brought the water, poured it and went back into the house, his uncle looked at him, the command of old glittering in his eyes.
“Tell me about her.”
“Well, she lives in Las Vegas.”
Jonas raised his bushy brows. “Vegas? What does the girl do? Is she a gambler?”
Gray thought of what Dawn had said, about the guilt she’d felt as a dealer. “No. She doesn’t think much of gambling. She works at a hotel.”
“Doin’ what? Am I going to have to drag every detail out of you?”
“She’s a Special Services representative.”
“Meanin’?”
“Meaning, she makes arrangements for VIPs. She sees to it that they have whatever they want.”
The old man’s brows rose again. “You tellin’ me the girl’s some sort of expensive hooker?”
“No,” Gray said sharply, “she’s not.” He paused, gathered the composure he seemed to be having a tough time hanging on to today, rose from his chair and walked to the deck railing. What right did he have to jump on his uncle for leaping to that conclusion, when he’d done the same thing? “I thought something like that, too, before…” He wrapped his hands around the rail, fingers biting into it as he recalled the swift flush of anger in Dawn’s face when he’d said as much. “The best way to explain it,” he said, facing his uncle, “is that she does what a concierge would do, only more of it, and only for celebrities and high rollers. That’s the closest I can come to a job description.”
“High rollers, huh?”
“Yes. And VIPs. She was talking to an Arab prince when I saw her this morning.”
“An Arab, like one of my sons-in-law.” Jonas nodded. “Girl must be pretty smart, to deal with them VIP types.”
“She is.”
“What’s she look like? Don’t suppose you thought to bring me a picture.”
“I have a couple of old ones. They’re black-and-white, and not very good.” Gray opened his briefcase and took out the photos of Dawn. Jonas took them and looked at them for a long moment before handi
ng them back.
“Can’t tell much from these,” he said, his voice rough, “‘cept that she seems to resemble her grandma some. She’s a pretty girl, I see.”
Beautiful. She’s beautiful. “Yeah. I guess she is.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Is she short? Tall? Curvy? Skinny? What color’s her hair?”
“She’s a little taller than average. I guess you’d say she’s nicely built. Her hair’s red. Well, maybe not red, exactly, but sort of a deep strawberry-blond…” He stopped in midsentence, met the old man’s surprisingly clear gaze and flushed. “Okay. She’s a good-looking woman, if that’s what you’re asking.”
His uncle put his hands on his knees and rose slowly to his feet. “Not surprised. She has good genes. Well, go on. Tell me more.”
“That’s about it.”
Jonas snorted. “The hell it is! You ain’t said a word about what she’s like ‘cept that she’s smart and pretty, and I had to practically drag that out of you. Is she nice?”
“Nice?”
“You heard me. Nice. She got a sense of humor? Does she smile a lot? What’d you think of her?”
Gray could feel a knot forming in his gut. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with—”
“Is she married? Single? Come on, boy, tell me somethin’!”
“Married.”
“And?”
“And what? You asked me if she’s married. I told you, she is.”
Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Okay. You want to play twenty questions, that’s how we’ll do it. Who’s she married to? What’s he do for a living? Is she happy?”
Gray drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “She’s married to a man with a record.”
“Whoa. A prison record?”
“No. An arrest record, but he’s never done time. She doesn’t live with him. She ran away from him four years ago.”
His uncle leaned on the railing next to Gray. “Kids?”
“One. The father claims Dawn ran out and left him and the boy.”
“But?”
“But, I don’t believe him.” Gray turned toward Jonas. It felt good, finally, to say the words out loud. “I don’t know where the child is or what happened to him, but she wouldn’t have abandoned him. I can’t prove it—”
Raising the Stakes Page 24
