by Jayne Castle
“What does your mother do when s-she’s not out demonstrating?” Gabriel asked calmly, blithely unaware, apparently, of her thoughts.
“Teaches socioeconomic theory at a small college back east.”
“And are you truly your mother’s daughter?” he startled her by asking.
Samantha slitted her eyes briefly, caught off guard. “If you mean am I cause-oriented, I’m afraid not,” she finally said remotely. “I seem to have inherited a fair share of my father’s interest in the more self-serving world of business.” But I am Vera Maitland’s daughter, she told herself silently, fiercely. And you, Gabriel Sinclair, are going to help me prove it!
“Perhaps it’s just as well you don’t s-s-share your mother’s devotion to causes. I get a bit nervous at the thought of doing business with radicals. So unstable. So unpredictable,” he added, frowning. It was obvious he didn’t approve of unpredictability in any form.
Samantha’s mouth curved faintly at the corners as she realized that she was finding his slight stutter almost endearing. A stupid reaction under the circumstances, actually. The man was anything but endearing! His financial success alone was proof of that. Men as quietly successful as Gabriel Sinclair couldn’t afford genuinely endearing weaknesses. She mustn’t let her imagination paint him other than what he obviously was.
But it was odd to find herself discussing such a personal subject as her mother’s unusual career with a man she intended to know only on a business basis. How had they gotten started on such a personal topic?
Gabriel’s strong, square hand reached for the teapot, clasping the delicate curve of the handle and pouring tea with a precision and innate grace which made her think of a Japanese tea ceremony. Every movement had meaning and no motion was superfluous. He was that kind of man, she realized. Every action would be planned and executed with an absolute efficiency. The knowledge sent a small chill down her spine. It was going to be difficult curbing her own far more dynamic, often impulsive methods. She couldn’t afford to scare him off with such hints of “unpredictability.”
“How are you feeling? Recovered from your therapist’s S&M techniques?” Gabriel broke into her musings to inquire politely.
Samantha winced, remembering. “My first experience with a spa, I’m afraid. I simply wasn’t prepared for what I got. I had read this wonderful article about these places in a fashion magazine a couple of weeks ago. ‘A time of cleansing for the body and the mind’ or some such garbage, I believe was the exact quote.” Samantha shook her head in baffled wonder. “Maybe you Californians need Miss Carson and her friends to cleanse the body and mind, but personally, I don’t have the stamina for it. I’ve been here twenty-four hours, and already I’m exhausted. Also starving to death,” she tacked on with feeling. “I must thank you for rescuing me, even if you didn’t choose the most gallant method!” She fixed him with a deliberately charming smile.
Gabriel stared at the smile for a moment, as if that, too, had to be assessed and pigeonholed. Then he nodded once. “If it’s any consolation, I surprised myself as much as you. I’m not normally the impulsive type.”
“No, I don’t imagine you are,” she managed lightly. “What type are you, Mr. Sinclair?”
“Merely a businessman. Like your father, I imagine. How does he tolerate your mother’s passion for causes, by the way?”
Samantha went still, the charming smile tightening into a cool, too-civil line as she began to realize how very many questions Gabriel Sinclair was inclined to ask. She had already revealed more about herself than she had ever intended. It wasn’t that she particularly cared if he knew about her background, she told herself, it was simply that the matter was largely irrelevant to the issue at hand. “My father’s tolerance for Vera’s passions was not a problem. My parents were never married, Mr. Sinclair,” she stated very neutrally. “He had no say in what she chose to do.”
There was a pause, and then Gabriel probed carefully.
“You speak of him in the past tense. Your father is dead?”
“My father was several years older than my mother. He died two years ago in his late seventies.”
Sinclair must have finally sensed her desire to close the discussion about her parents because he acceded politely to the firm tone of her words. For a long moment they continued to sip their tea in silence, each waiting for the other to establish the new direction of the conversation. There was really only one other topic that was appropriate, of course, and Samantha realized that Sinclair was going to let her be the one to bring up the business between them. It was a subtle but effective method of telling her silently that he wasn’t dying of eagerness to hear the details, she decided wryly. Had Gabriel Sinclair ever been overly eager or enthused about anything in his entire life, she wondered.
In the small, quiet space of time it took her to marshal her thoughts, Samantha took a moment to analyze the man opposite her. The impression of solid, even stolid presence which she’d had from first sight of him was stronger than ever. But now she had time to note other details. The conservatively cut hair was a deep, dark shade of mahogany, a shade repeated in the heavy eyebrows. The hazel eyes were as politely unreadable now as they had been earlier in the spa room, but there was no doubting the intelligence behind them. She had the feeling that his smiles would be infrequent and would rarely reach those assessing eyes. The clothes were casual, but they, too, were conservative, considering the fact that he was a Californian. A button-down oxford cloth shirt worn open at the throat and subdued slacks clasped with an unadorned leather belt went with the quietly styled jacket she’d “borrowed” earlier.
A conservative, cautious man in all things, she thought in fleeting frustration. Why couldn’t he have been more like herself? Matters would have been so much easier.
“About that note I sent you,” Samantha finally said, taking the plunge. “I assume from your presence here at the spa that you’re interested in what I have to say?”
Gabriel shifted his glance briefly from her face to the small garden and back again. “I wouldn’t say that I’m particularly interested in doing business with you, Miss Maitland, but I will admit to a certain curiosity.”
Samantha resisted the impulse to clench her teeth. Getting a commitment out of this man was going to be difficult. And she had so little time.
But what had she expected? Men like this did not automatically grab at every deal that was offered. She had been hoping, though, that the bait she had used in this particular instance would give her an edge on gaining his agreement. It struck Samantha as she watched his profile that Gabriel Sinclair’s physical solidity had an intellectual counterpart. He would not jump into anything, nor would he be pushed. But he had an ego, she reminded herself. Every man had an ego, and it was invariably his weakness. Which did not mean that he would understand or sympathize with her own weaknesses, so she must maintain the strictly business facade. He must never suspect for a moment that her motivation stemmed from an emotion as dangerously unpredictable as revenge. Nothing would have been more likely to make such a man shy away from this deal.
“As I explained to you in my note,” she began industriously.
“Your cryptic note.” Why did he have to harp on that?
“If it was a bit, er, cryptic-sounding, I expect it was because I was in something of a hurry,” she apologized airily.
“It was cryptic because you were trying to interest me in the deal without giving too much information away at the beginning,” he corrected softly, hazel eyes gleaming.
“Perhaps,” she conceded with a shrug and then smiled engagingly. “Whatever my motives, you’re here.”
“Don’t congratulate yourself yet,” he advised blandly. “I have a great many questions which I would like answered.”
I’ll just bet you do, Samantha thought grimly. Outwardly she maintained the smile. “Of course you have questions. And I shall be more than happy to answer them.” Damn it, he was interested. He had to be interested or he would never
have bothered to turn up at the spa, seeking her, Samantha assured herself, trying at the same time to stifle the rush of excitement which was bubbling up inside. She must not get in a rush and ruin everything through her own eagerness. But it was so difficult to be calm and businesslike when she was so close to the end. So many months of careful planning and investigation were nearing the finish line, and she could destroy all her own efforts by letting the hopeful exhilaration show. She just knew that kind of enthusiasm would make this plodding financial angel take wing. Samantha’s fingers clenched around the handle of the teacup in her hand as she forced herself to remain cool and restrained in front of Sinclair. Everything depended on handling this man properly.
“First, I would like to know a little more about your business, Samantha. I may call you Samantha?”
“By all means,” she hastened to assure him, smiling brilliantly.
He blinked with decided wariness under the flash of the smile, and she instantly modified it into a polite, tempered expression. Gabriel poured himself another cup of tea and met her eyes deliberately. “What does Business Intelligence, Incorporated actually do?”
“Oh, I’m a sort of information broker,” she explained, resigning herself to the fact that this man would do everything in a prudent, step-by-step fashion, attending to each detail in turn. There would be no hurrying him. Would he make love to a woman in the same deliberate fashion? she found herself wondering with a flash of inner humor. She could just picture him in bed, going step-by-step through the procedures outlined in a sex instruction manual. “While kissing left breast, locate sensitive area of partner’s inner thigh and massage slowly. After three minutes repeat, alternating to right breast and left thigh.”
Brushing aside the image, Samantha hurried into a further description of her work. “I supply my subscribers with news and information which might affect their businesses. Sort of a glorified librarian. Through a computer I can collect a huge amount of information and process it down to a manageable level. It’s like being paid to sift through Forbes, The Wall Street Journal, and Business Week with a yellow highlighter and a pair of scissors,” she summarized.
“Your system is computerized?” he demanded, frowning slightly.
She nodded quickly, wanting to get of the subject and on to more important things. “There are literally hundreds of computerized information retrieval services that anyone with a good home computer can subscribe to. Indexes to all the major newspapers, for instance, lists of research being done in almost any field you can imagine. Analyses of stock market activity that go back to the beginnings of the exchange…. And a lot of other miscellaneous information,” she added with deliberate vagueness as she realized the direction of his questioning.
“The sort of miscellaneous information that helped you track me down?” Gabriel drawled with far too much perception.
There was no point denying it. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” she admitted with a cool smile. “That sort of miscellaneous information. But if it’s any consolation to you, there was very little to be had on you, Gabriel.”
“Just enough to make you guess I might be interested in a deal involving the Buchanan Group?”
“Just enough.” Samantha felt as if she were walking on eggs. “Was I right?” she finally dared to breathe after a moment.
“I will have to know a great deal more before I can give you that answer. Tell me about this real estate venture you’re trying to involve me in,” he instructed calmly.
Samantha took a deep breath and crushed down her disappointment. “It has to do with a site assembly project which is currently underway in Phoenix for the Buchanan Group’s latest development.”
“Buchanan is picking up properties in Phoenix? How did you find out about that?” They both knew that Buchanan and others like him usually stayed well hidden while their people quietly acquired the individual parcels needed for a development. Once the individual owners who occupied the properties realized just how important their particular hunks of land might be they were more than likely to ask an astronomical price.
“Of course he tries to keep his company’s name out of sight,” Samantha replied with a small grin. “Even one holdout owner can ruin a multimillion-dollar deal if the land he’s sitting on is needed for the development.”
“I think I’m beginning to get the drift,” Gabriel murmured. “You haven’t answered my question, though. How did you find out Buchanan was involved in an assembly project?”
Questions, questions, questions! Didn’t the man ever just jump ahead to the important things without climbing each individual step along the way? Samantha closed her eyes briefly, taking a tight rein on her own restless anticipation.
“Buchanan is well hidden on this project, as usual,” she said in what she hoped was a sedate tone. “I would never have found out about his plans if a few odds and ends of minor information hadn’t cropped up in a couple of the data bases I routinely monitor.” She saw no point in telling Gabriel that she automatically devoted a portion of her time each week to searching for any and all information on the Buchanan Group. It would be difficult to explain, in light of the fact that the company was not among her subscribing clients. Fed even a small tidbit like that, a man like Sinclair would immediately start sniffing around for further information, and Samantha had no intention of explaining her personal interest in Drew Buchanan.
“So”—Gabriel sat back and gazed at her interestedly— “You managed to discover that a secret assembly project was underway. And then?”
“I’m sure you’ve already guessed the rest,” Samantha said demurely, sipping tea. “I quietly went in and picked up an option on a little restaurant situated right in the middle of the area Buchanan needs. That was several months ago, after I’d determined the general area of Phoenix that Buchanan’s people were working in.”
“I see.”
She could read nothing in his stolid words. Resolutely Samantha continued. “Buchanan’s real estate people have begun to move. Quietly, of course. They’re using a variety of dummy corporations and a lot of different attorneys and real estate brokers to cover up who is doing the buying, but the buying has started.”
“But as far as the general populace of Phoenix is concerned, what’s taking place are simply a bunch of small, individual real estate deals. No one knows one developer is behind all of them.”
“Nope. Except you and me,” she said cheerfully. “Only we know how absolutely crucial that little restaurant is going to be. Without that piece of property a major development project which has been on the drawing boards for at least two years will have to be canceled. I can’t see Buchanan letting his plans for downtown Phoenix be frustrated by one tiny Mexican restaurant.”
“You’re going to wait until he’s bought up almost everything and then confront him with a ridiculously high price tag?”
“Ridiculously high,” she agreed happily.
“But you need me,” Gabriel pointed out softly.
“I’m afraid so.” She sighed.
“Because your time is running out on the option for the restaurant, right? You need cash and a lot of it to close the deal with the present owner?”
Samantha raised one eyebrow above the frames of her glasses. “I need a financial angel to help me close the deal. I simply don’t have access to the kind of cash or credit it will take to buy a restaurant. As a professional venture capitalist, you do. You make your living by financing ventures like this one.”
“You think Buchanan’s people will pay your asking price rather than wreck the whole project?”
“Of course. They’re committed financially to the development project. They can’t back out now, not without losing a tremendous amount of money, far more than I’ll be charging for that damn restaurant!”
She could see him taking it all in, grinding it up, rearranging the facts into little patterns in his head. Samantha would have given a great deal to be able to read his mind. As it was, it was like watching a blan
k brick wall. Was he even interested? She decided to press a bit further.
“I will make a tidy fortune out of this, and you will receive a healthy percentage of return on your invested money. As my silent partner I promise you will be amply rewarded, Gabriel,” she told him earnestly. “It should be a quick, clean kill. When the big developers run into a snag just as they’re nearing the end of a site assembly like this, they’ll pay unbelievable amounts to buy up a crucial chunk of land. You know that as well as I do. I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is put up the money and forget about it until the payoff.”
Finally an emotion flared briefly in the hazel eyes, and Samantha cringed inwardly. He was laughing at her. God, she mustn’t come across as naive; that would be the kiss of death as far as he was concerned. He wouldn’t risk his money in the hands of a naive businesswoman. “Just how long will I have to forget about my money?” he inquired gently. Too gently.
“Buchanan is starting to move. I’d say someone will make an offer on the restaurant in the next few weeks.”
“Tell me something, Samantha. You knew when you picked up the option to buy that restaurant that you were going to need a source of cash to close the deal with the owner when the time came. What was it you found in your computer data banks which led you to choose me as a potential business partner?” Gabriel’s bluntly carved features were utterly devoid of expression.
More questions? Didn’t the man ever stop asking questions and get to the important stuff? Samantha could have screamed with frustration, but instead she rallied herself to respond calmly. There was something about the solid rocklike deliberation of this man which was beginning to irritate her, though. She found herself wondering what it would take to ruffle or disturb him. The temptation to experiment in that dangerous direction was a strong one and one she repeatedly reminded herself she must resist. She was here to entice the man into her web of business intrigue, not send him plodding off in the opposite direction.
