Ben’s attentive listening, broken only by an occasional brief question, put her at ease, and she savored the relaxing comfort of his company.
Unlike Josh.
When the private investigator had drawn her close in the study closet last night, she had been anything but comfortable. In spite of her fear, her blood had run hot at the sensation of his hard chest beneath her cheek. Her body had reacted as if Josh possessed some mysterious power to stimulate her senses and stir her blood. And all the while her mind shouted that she shouldn’t, couldn’t, trust a man who carried so many secrets.
Ben’s company was a soothing contrast. With him, her hormones didn’t riot, and her fears subsided in the presence of his affection and respect. She had trusted him instinctively from the moment they met, and the entries in her father’s journals had assured her that trust was well-founded.
Ben’s voice shattered her thoughts. “I knew this charade wasn’t going to be easy for you.”
“The hardest part,” she said, “is trusting Josh. If you didn’t constantly assure me he’s trustworthy, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”
“Why not?” Surprise and concern tinged Ben’s question.
“There’s something elusive about him I can’t put my finger on.” No need to bother Ben with the unsettling effect his investigator had on her. “And he doesn’t always tell the truth.”
His tone hardened. “He’s lied to you?”
Taking time to phrase her answer, she combed her fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ears. Josh had said Ben didn’t trust easily, but obviously Ben trusted Josh. Josh was Ben’s friend, after all, so she had better tread carefully.
“He claims he was Dad’s friend, but he isn’t mentioned in Dad’s journals.”
Ben expelled a long sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Josh’s work is delicate and secretive. What makes him an efficient investigator and also keeps him alive is his anonymity. That’s why he prefers to work at night, why I haven’t told you his last name. His few close friends are aware of Josh’s need for obscurity. That’s why your father never wrote about him. For Josh’s protection.”
His explanation did little to allay her supicion. Her father surely would have referred somehow to Josh, if only as an anonymous friend, in the accounts of his daily life, but Ben seemed unperturbed.
Maybe she was imagining problems where none existed. Admittedly, she was under a lot of stress, and her mistrust and apprehension were based more on intuition than concrete evidence.
She shivered, recalling Josh’s embrace. The fact that when she was close to him, she didn’t trust herself, much less him, added to her uneasiness.
“You will keep working with him, won’t you?” Ben asked.
She attempted a smile. “I suppose I have to if I want to avenge my father’s murder.”
“Your association with Josh involves more than bringing Lashner to justice. As the attack at the airport proves, you also need Josh to keep you alive.”
She nodded, contrite that Ben had done so much in his efforts to protect her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to trust the man he had chosen to keep her safe. “I’ll do whatever it takes to see this through.”
“You’re the bravest woman I know.”
He caressed her cheek with his bandaged hand, and she leaned into his gentle touch.
“Is it bravery,” she asked, “when you haven’t got a choice?”
“You always have a choice, Morgan. I can send you out of the country until Lashner is exposed, or—”
“No.” She covered his hand with her own. “I’ll see this through. For both our sakes. And especially for my father.”
He reached into the pocket of his jacket, withdrew a folded paper and handed it to her. “You’ll need this.”
“What is it?”
“The proxy you gave me.” He withdrew his hand from hers. “It’s time to flush Lashner out. As chairman of the board at Chemco, I’ve called a meeting for two weeks from today.”
“Will you be strong enough to attend?”
“My doctor says yes, but I’ve had my secretary tell the board members I may not be there. Lashner can’t take the chance of you or me appearing at that meeting and defeating his motion to sell Frank’s miracle formula. He’ll have to make a move soon. When he does, we’ll be ready.”
Harper announced his presence in the doorway with a discreet clearing of his throat. “Mr. Josh is on the telephone, sir.”
“I’ll take the call in my bedroom,” Ben said.
“Shall I wait?” Morgan asked.
“I won’t be long. When I return, we’ll decide on our next step.”
Fear twisted through her like a corkscrew of black ice, and her anxiety must have registered on her face.
“You mustn’t worry,” Ben said. “I promised your father I would keep you safe, and I always keep my promises.”
Harper rolled Ben into his bedroom, and she stared at the heavy door as it closed behind him. Ben had vowed to keep her safe, but the execution of that vow depended on Josh. Only time would tell if she could trust him to keep Ben’s promises.
And keep her alive.
JOSH LOUNGED AGAINST the weathered railing of the boardwalk over the sand dunes and observed the house. A light shone behind the draperies in Morgan’s bedroom window, visible above the vinecovered wall that surrounded the estate. As he watched, the light blinked out
She would be coming soon now.
Turning back toward the gulf, he lifted his face into the onshore breeze, inhaling the tang of salt and the scent of elusive freedom. He steeled himself against his first glimpse of her, so his face wouldn’t give him away. More than anything, he longed to scoop her into his arms as soon as she appeared, but such behavior would be disastrous. To keep her safe, as he’d promised, he had to remain aloof and wary.
One slip could mean her death.
Dear God, he was tired. An overwhelming longing to chuck it all, the lurking in -shadows, the deviousness, the lies, gripped him.
Just a few more days, two weeks at most, he promised himself. By then Lashner would be behind bars. Morgan would be safe.
And Josh could disappear.
He felt her presence before he saw her. The rhythmic beat of her footsteps vibrated through the boards at his feet. Turning toward the house, he watched her approach like a dream in the night. Jeans sheathed her slender legs. A fitted jacket nipped her tiny waist, and a dark navy scarf, its ends fluttering in the wind, hid her fair hair.
When she reached him, moonlight sparkled in her eyes and illuminated the rosy glow of her cheeks. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was glad to see him.
Fat chance.
She had told Ben she didn’t trust him. No, the flush on her face and the shimmer in her eyes were caused only by the cool night air and impending danger.
He slammed a lid on the surge of joy and desire at her arrival. “All set?”
She halted abruptly, taken aback by his bluntness. “And a good evening to you, too.”
“Time’s running out. Small talk’s a waste of it.”
His frustration had sharpened his temper, and she cringed visibly at his harshness. He couldn’t reveal the source of his foul humor, because then she’d trust him even less, knowing how much he wanted her.
But he could apologize. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
Her forgiving smile almost undid him.
“I understand. I was feeling tense and nervous, too, until I crossed the dunes.” She hopped off the steps onto the sand, spread her arms and pirouetted in the moonlight, as light and graceful as a dancer. “Isn’t it a marvelous night?”
“Morgan.”
The annoyance in his voice stopped her. “I know, I’m wasting time. Which way?”
He pointed south toward the distant city and ambled down to the hard-packed sand of the high-tide line. She fell in step beside him, and the salt breeze now carried a hint of her perfume.
/> “Did you call your dad’s secretary?” he asked.
“I told Brenda I’d come to the plant sometime later this evening to clear out Dad’s office.”
“Good. Then it’s all arranged.”
“It took some persuading. She insisted I come during the day, but I said I couldn’t deal with the condolences of Dad’s co-workers right now.”
Her voice came in breathless huffs, and he slowed his steps to ease her pace. “Do you have your father’s office keys?”
“The funeral director gave them to me, along with Dad’s wallet and other personal effects, before the service. Brenda said she would alert the night watchman to let me in at the main gate.”
“Let’s hope this works,” he muttered to himself.
Morgan stopped suddenly and tugged on his arm. “How can you be certain Lashner will know I’m coming?”
With her head thrown back to gaze up at him and small hands pushed into her pockets, ethereal and vulnerable sprang again to his mind. But her fragility was only an illusion. Any woman gutsy enough to walk knowingly into a trap in order to snare the trapper had to have a backbone of case-hardened steel.
“Lashner,” he said, “had a man waiting at the airport and people all over town searching for you. If I’ve guessed right, he also instructed Brenda Jernigan to tell him immediately if you contacted her.”
“So he’ll be waiting.” She sounded resigned but unafraid, and his heart swelled at her courage.
“He or one of his goons. Either way, I’m prepared. Now, let’s get moving or we’ll be late.”
“I didn’t tell Brenda a specific time.”
“I didn’t mean late to the plant. We’re meeting someone on the edge of town in fifteen minutes.”
She picked up her pace without questions, and he repressed a self-satisfied smile. Okay, so she didn’t trust him, but at least she’d agreed to his plans with an implied recognition that he would enlighten her when she needed to know.
The stretch of private beach in front of waterfront mansions gave way to deserted public beaches. Within minutes, Josh, with Morgan in tow, trudged across a wide strip of sand toward an old-fashioned diner, the lone building in the empty landscape.
“You’re going inside without a disguise?” Morgan asked.
“You’ll see.”
He skirted the bright glare of the partially filled parking lot until he reached the far corner where a light was burned out. A dilapidated panel van with a surfboard lashed to the roof, its front seat empty, was parked in the shadows.
Josh approached the van and rapped once, then twice, on its right side. Immediately its door slid open, and Josh lifted Morgan inside. The door slammed shut behind them.
Even though he knew what to expect, the van’s interior astounded him. The walls, banked with electronic equipment, looked like a miniversion of NASA’s mission control.
A young man in a swivel chair pivoted from a wall of toggle switches, dials and flickering lights to face them. “You’re right on time.”
Josh savored Morgan’s openmouthed expression of surprise. “Morgan, Sal Oliveri. Sal, meet Morgan.”
Sal, the epitome of Italian good looks and charm, hoisted himself from his chair and offered the seat to Morgan. She gave him a cursory nod, sank into the chair and gazed in amazement at the paraphernalia surrounding her.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“Surveillance equipment,” Sal said. “I’m a private investigator, and this stuff comes in handy in my line of work. Would you like a demonstration?”
Morgan nodded
Sal adjusted a few dials and flipped on a speaker. The clatter of dishes, the sizzle of a grill and a jumble of voices filled the van. “Those sounds are coming from the diner, almost a hundred yards from here.”
“That’s amazing,” Morgan said with awe.
Sal’s dark eyes flashed, and his wide grin deepened the cleft in his chin. “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
With a few adjustments, the jumble of voices narrowed until one customer’s voice sounded loud and clear, placing an order for a medium-rare burger and a chocolate shake. The waitress’s bored query about french fries was equally intelligible.
Josh knelt on the van floor and leaned against the closed door, enjoying Morgan’s unmistakable fascination with Sal’s electronic gadgetry. Her eyes, just a shade lighter than her navy scarf, shimmered with the excitement of a child’s at Christmas.
“What did you do,” she asked, “plant microphones in the diner?”
“No need,” Sal explained, “Directional mikes pick up the voices from here.”
She turned to Josh. “Are we here for directional mikes?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “What have you got for me, Sal?”
Sal opened a cabinet beneath his computer keyboard and dragged out an aluminum carrier, smaller than a piece of luggage, but larger than an attaché case. “Here’s everything you need.”
Sal slid him the case, which he accepted without opening. If Sal said everything was there, it was all there. He’d dealt with the Tampa-based investigator often enough to trust him without question.
Rising to his feet, Josh picked up the case. “Looks like it’s show time.”
Morgan stood also. “I’m ready.”
“You know where to send the bill,” Josh told his friend.
“Gotcha.” Sal flashed a grin and extended his hand to Morgan. “I’d be worried about you if I didn’t know my buddy here will guard you with his life. Do what he says, and you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” Morgan shook his hand, slipped out the door Sal opened and stared across the lot toward the diner.
In the doorway, Josh turned to Sal and lowered his voice. “What about the other?”
Sal lifted a small canister from a nearby shelf. “Be careful with this stuff. It can be dangerous.”
Josh slipped the container into his jacket pocket and left the van. The door slammed behind him, and in seconds the engine sputtered to life and the vehicle pulled away.
Josh gripped the cold surface of the canister in his pocket. Dangerous, Sal had called it.
If it was needed, Josh hoped it would be lethal.
Chapter Six
Shaking her head in amazement, Morgan watched Sal’s van disappear in a cloud of sand along the beach access road.
“That’s unbelievable equipment,” she said. “Without it, the only audible sound from the diner is the thump of the bass from the sound system.”
Josh grasped her arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows toward his car, parked next to where the van had been.
“I left the car here earlier,” he said. “Get in.”
She climbed in the front seat, and he circled around, scooted behind the wheel and wedged the aluminum case on the seat between them.
“Take off your jacket,” he said.
Recalling the car’s inadequate air-conditioning, she shrugged out of her jacket, folded it neatly and laid it across the back of the seat.
“Now your blouse.”
“What?” Thinking she’d misunderstood, she peered through the darkness to read his expression, but his face was obscured by shadows.
“It’s dark,” he said in a strangely uninflected tone, as if fighting to keep his voice calm. “No one will see.”
“I’ve done some crazy things in my day,” she admitted as heat rose from her neck to her forehead, “but stripping in public isn’t one of them. And I don’t intend to now.”
“This isn’t public. Just take off the blouse.”
The flatness in his voice was beginning to annoy her. “You must have a reason for such a request. Would you mind explaining?”
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” he snapped.
She curbed her rising distrust. “Tell me what you’re planning.”
He leaned away from her with a painful sigh, and the dim light from the parking lot silhouetted his striking profile against the window. “I can’t ac
company you into the plant or I may scare off Lashner’s goons. If I send you in wearing a wire—”
“A wire?”
“A microphone. So I can monitor what’s going on.”
She exhaled with embarrassment and relief. For a moment, imagining he’d transformed into a sexstarved Romeo eager for necking in the parked car, she feared she had unwittingly relayed signals of her undeniable attraction to him.
She should have known better. Josh was one cool customer, not likely to indulge in playing around on the job or to attribute any significance to tiny, involuntary signs she couldn’t control.
Her relief was short-lived.
If Josh wasn’t yet aware of how he affected her, he would have little doubt if she removed her clothes. She clutched her blouse and pulled the collar closed at the neckline. Her heart was palpitating more forcefully than the thumping bass that rocked the distant diner.
“Just attach the mike to my blouse,” she said, “and I’ll cover it with my jacket.”
“We can’t chance someone discovering and disabling it, just when you might need it most,” he said with irritating common sense.
Either emotion had caused a catch in his voice or she was imagining things again, projecting her own uncontrollable responses onto him. Whichever the case, delaying wouldn’t resolve her dilemma. If they were to set their trap for Lashner, she had to follow Josh’s instructions.
Attempting nonchalance, she tugged her shirt from her jeans and undid the buttons, silently cursing her clumsy, shaking fingers. She slipped her arms from the sleeves and left the garment draped over her shoulders.
Josh flipped the catches on the case, lifted the lid and extracted a small round object, no bigger than a berry, with a trailing wire. He removed a roll of tape, laid the objects on the dashboard and shifted the case to the back seat. When he slid into the space where the case had been, his body heat seared her side.
“Now your bra.” His eyes glittered in the darkness and his warm breath raised goose bumps on her faintly chilled skin.
She inhaled the stirring masculinity of his scent, and her pulse galloped. “Is this really necessary?”
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