by Jayne Castle
“Here you go, Eric. But I really think that you should quit. Have a bite to eat and get some sleep. Surety that horrible man will give you a day or two of grace! He doesn’t even know where you are, for heaven’s sake!”
“Who knows what he’ll do?” Eric reached for the coffee cup with gratitude. “I’ve never dealt with this crowd before. But believe me, I get the feeling they don’t extend a lot of grace periods!”
“How on earth did you ever find such a person in the first place? Where does one go looking for a broker in industrial espionage?” Samantha demanded unhappily.
“I don’t know where most people go looking,” Eric told her wryly, “but I went looking in a computer. I tapped into some of those information sources you use like the newspaper indexes and a few sources you don’t use.”
“You tapped into… But, Eric, you were using the Thorndyke computer, and I know Thorndyke doesn’t have a subscription to any of those information sources. Victor was too cheap to buy the services.”
Eric regarded her pityingly. “Sam, for someone like me, a paid subscription isn’t really necessary. I just used a telephone link to connect with the particular computer I wanted to search and then I went in and took what I wanted.”
Samantha stared at her half brother in awe. “You just casually invaded a bunch of computer memory banks? Long distance? My God, Eric, you must be a genius. A real genius! I’ve heard of people who know how to get into other people’s computers, but I’ve never actually met one! And to think my own brother can do it!”
Eric shrugged, taking his talent for granted. “Look where it got me. In trouble with a man who probably moonlights for the Mafia! Jesus! How could I have been so stupid?”
“You found this… this person in one of the computers you searched?”
“I found some cases of industrial espionage which had been kept on file in the computers of a couple of private firms who had, oh, used this guy’s services. Once his name cropped up, I knew who to contact. For all the good it did me.” Eric gulped coffee. “I’m glad your friend Sinclair will be staying the night.”
Samantha shook her head in automatic reaction. “Who said he was staying the night? Eric, I keep telling you, he’s a business acquaintance, nothing more!”
“Sure.” But his blue eyes smiled with weary perception.
“Eric, I’m warning you, don’t turn into a pesky younger brother at this stage in the game!”
He sobered. “I mean it, Sam. I’m glad he’s here. feel better about staying another night now that there’s another man in the house. I was thinking about moving out to a motel.”
“What on earth for?”
“So that you won’t be involved if the wrong people come looking for me!” he snapped abruptly, setting down the coffee cup and going back to work on the computer. “But Sinclair looks as if he could handle trouble if it walked in the front door.”
Samantha’s mouth fell open as she stared at her half brother. “Gabriel Sinclair is not staying the night!”
“Yes he is,” Gabriel said, coming through the door behind her. “That’s condition number two, Samantha.”
She whirled around. How much had he heard? Only her last sentence, apparently, because he wasn’t demanding explanations of Eric’s cryptic words. Aware of a trapped sensation, Samantha tried desperately to regain control over a situation that seemed to be rapidly slipping out of hand. And to think that for a moment or two when she’d seen him standing on her front porch she’d gained the impression she was in command again! Men! It was a constant battle to keep them from walking all over you. Vera was right. The male of the species had his uses, but a woman had to struggle constantly to keep him in his place.
“Gabriel, I would like to remind you that you are the one who wishes to do business with me. Don’t forget that I still have other alternatives.” She ignored his arcing brows as she reminded him of William Oakes. “If you start putting too many unbusinesslike conditions on our arrangement, you can damn well forget the whole thing!”
“Don’t pay any attention to her, Gabe,” Eric remarked, not glancing up from the computer screen. “She’s just a little tired. She gets grouchy when she’s tired.”
“From what I’ve seen of the contents of her refrigerator, I get the feeling s-s-she hasn’t been eating well, either. Come on, Samantha. Let’s go into town and get some decent groceries for dinner. You and Eric both look as if you need a good meal.”
The familiar stutter over the ‘sh’ sound disarmed Samantha for a crucial instant. Why on earth should she be vulnerable to the small imperfection in his speech? Because it gave her the comforting illusion that he had weaknesses?
“I have plenty of good meals stashed in the freezer,” she informed him in a voice so cold it might have been stored there itself. “Frozen turkey pot pies, frozen TV dinners, and frozen pizza. I stocked up yesterday!”
“I said you need a decent meal, not a frozen pizza.” He put out a hand and snagged her wrist. “Let’s go.”
He moved with placid, unalterable intent, dragging her out of the parlor and down the hall to the living room where he patiently located his windbreaker and her black leather jacket in a closet.
Samantha made one more halfhearted attempt to protest his high-handedness, but somehow she was simply too exhausted to fight him over such a small thing as what to have for dinner. In spite of herself she remembered the fabulous meal he had prepared for her that night in California.
“We can go shopping if you insist, Gabriel, but you might as well know that I can’t cook nearly as well as you do! Believe me, you’re better off eating a frozen pizza when you eat in my house.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized just how much ground she had lost. If she let him stay for dinner, she was going to wind up letting him stay the night.
“I’ll be safe enough if I do the cooking.”
An hour and a half later the rich fragrance of a lamb stew began to waft through the kitchen. Samantha sat, feet propped on a chair, sherry in her hand, and watched sleepily as Gabriel added cream and eggs to the scone mixture he was preparing. It was an oddly pleasant sight. A comforting one. Perhaps Eric was right. It might be nice to have Gabriel in the house tonight. At least they’d eat well!
“I hope,” she mumbled as she sipped at her sherry, “that you don’t have any misconceptions about where you’re sleeping tonight, Gabriel.”
“I’m staying here.” He kneaded the scone dough for a few seconds, his touch light. He didn’t look up. It was easy to ruin scone dough with too much kneading. One had to pay attention.
Samantha realized she was taking second place to the scones and sighed inwardly. “I have an extra bedroom. I suppose you can use that.”
“Your graciousness overwhelms me.”
“You’re a little overwhelming yourself. What made you change your mind and come to Seattle, Gabriel? Did you really start worrying about losing out on a good deal? Which was more important? The money you stand to make or getting even with Buchanan?” She didn’t know why she was pressing for the answer. Perhaps for future reference. You never knew when you might be able to use this sort of information. Any clue into Gabriel Sinclair’s motivations was potentially useful. It was plain she was going to need all the weapons she could get in the ongoing struggle to maintain the balance of power between them.
“What if my reasons are even simpler and more straightforward than that, Samantha?” he asked quietly as he shaped the individual scones and placed them on the baking tray. “What if I said I decided to come all this way and lay all this money on the line for the sake of another chance at getting you into bed?”
She chilled. “I wouldn’t believe you. Men like you don’t get where they are by doing dumb things like that.”
“Don’t they?” he asked vaguely.
“Gabriel, stop teasing me! I’m exhausted and I’m not in the mood for your sexual innuendoes. If you actually came all this way thinking I’d go to bed with you in exchang
e for your money, you can turn right around and head back to California. And you damn well know it!”
His mouth crooked upward in self-mockery. “Let’s just say I’ve decided to go along with you and leave it at that for the time being, s-s-shall we?” He put the tray of scones in the oven and then picked up his own glass of sherry. As he sat down across from her, she saw the cool, speculative expression in his eyes. “I know what you’re after, witch. You want to know exactly what makes me tick so that you can control me. But I’m not going to give you any help in that direction. It would be like putting a sword in your hand.”
“If you think I’m such a vicious person, why are you even willing to do business with me?” she grated, stung by the accusation of manipulation. It was true enough, she supposed, but she was only trying to manipulate him out of self-defense. For he was surely trying to do the same to her. Had already done it on one unforgettable occasion! The memory of her night spent in his arms still burned in her head. Talk about being manipulated!
“I don’t think you’re a vicious person at all,” he mocked gently. “I think you’re bright, daring, and resourceful. You’ll use whatever you think you can get away with using to keep me where you want me.”
“And where’s that?” she challenged, wondering absently if the sherry was going to her head on an empty stomach. Damn it, she had to find out exactly what was motivating him. There was a nagging suspicion that she didn’t fully understand all the factors involved here.
“You want me under control.” Gabriel lifted one shoulder in polite acceptance of that simple fact and swallowed another sip of sherry. “I don’t blame you.”
Suddenly Samantha’s sense of honor bounded to the surface through the waves of exhaustion. “Very magnanimous of you. You don’t blame me because you’re trying to do the same thing in reverse. You’re trying to control me.’’
“S-s-should make for an interesting partnership, don’t you think?” Gabriel lifted his sherry glass in salute, and out of sheer bravado Samantha did the same. The crystal rims chimed as they came into contact, but it was difficult to hear the soft tinkling sound because at that moment a dazed, red-eyed Eric came trooping around the corner and into the kitchen.
“Something sure smells good in here. Dinner ready?” Gabriel looked at him critically. “Just about. Sit down here with your sister and I’ll serve. The two of you are a real pair, you know that? You look as if you’ve been partying for a week.”
“I wish!” Eric muttered, stumbling into his seat and rubbing his eyes.
Samantha got to her feet to help set the table even though Gabriel tried to wave her back down into the chair.
“What have you two been working on in there?” Gabriel dished out the fragrant Iamb stew and carried the plates to the table.
Samantha thought she would faint from the sheer bliss of the aroma of the stew as it was carried past her nose.
“Just something I’ve got to have done as soon as possible,” Eric said offhandedly as he dug into the meal. “Scones! Geez. I haven’t had scones in ages. You know, it would be great if you could teach Sam how to cook. Her mother didn’t think it was a good idea for girls to learn.”
Gabriel grinned, and Samantha realized how much she had missed that rare smile. “Why not?”
“She doesn’t have anything against good cooking, mind you,” Samantha hastened to assure him. It’s just that she was afraid a woman who learned too many traditional homemaking skills might find herself trapped in a traditional female role.”
“So what else can’t you do?” Gabriel inquired interestedly.
Samantha thought about it, remembering the unconventional days of her childhood. “Well, I can’t knit or crochet or sew. I never learned to make my own Christmas decorations. And I’m a lousy housekeeper,” she finished on a note of defensive triumph.
“She’s also bossy as hell at times,” Eric confided.
Gabriel glanced sideways at Eric. “What can she do?”
To Samantha’s astonishment her half brother took the question seriously. “She’s got nerve. And guts. The kind of guts it takes to face down the entire Thorndyke family. She considers the rest of us a nasty, condescending bunch. Which Thorndykes, by and large, are. Let’s see, what else? She’s got some weird ideas about loyalty.”
“Weird?” Gabriel questioned, his eyes on Samantha, who was concentrating heavily on her stew.
“Yeah, she’s even loyal to Thorndykes although now that Dad’s gone she has no reason to be. Saved Vic’s ass a year ago. Vic’s my older brother. He’s president of the family firm now. There was a threatened buy-out, and Samantha got wind of it through her computers. She warned Vic in time for him to salvage Thorndyke Industries. If I’d been her, I would have let it go under. Vic didn’t even bother to thank her.”
“Eric, that’s enough,” Samantha interrupted briskly. “Your family doesn’t owe me a thing. I’m an embarrassment to them, and it’s better for all concerned if I stay out of their way.”
“She’s also damn independent,” Eric went on musingly. “Let’s see. Oh, yes. I’d trust her with my life. That’s about it. Other than that she’s a real washout as a female. But I expect the right man could make something of her,” he concluded optimistically.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabriel murmured very politely.
“If the two of you have finished assassinating my character, would you mind passing me the butter and honey for the scones?” Samantha fixed them both with a cold eye and then went back to her meal. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s men who gossip!”
Gabriel’s delicious feast disappeared rapidly. The man could cook, Samantha allowed privately as she polished off the last tender chunk of lamb. God, she was sleepy. So much had happened in the past few days. How did Eric keep going? From the looks of him, he wouldn’t. Not for much longer. Her brother was running on the ragged edge.
“I think you should at least take a nap for a few hours,” she said quietly as she helped Gabriel clear the table. “I’m beat and you’ve been working twice as hard as I have.”
“I can’t stop, Sam. There’s no time left.” He got up from the table. “You go ahead and get some rest.”
“You’re both dead on your feet,” Gabriel announced coolly, coming up behind Samantha. “S-s-surely whatever it is you’re working on will keep until tomorrow morning?”
“I don’t know if it will or not,” Eric returned wearily.
“You’re not going to be able to accomplish much in your present condition,” Gabriel pointed out. “Get a few hours of sleep, Eric.”
Samantha looked anxiously at her brother. “He’s right, Eric. What’s the point of working when you’re this far gone? It’s liable to come out all gibberish.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Eric faced both of them, strain and tension and outright exhaustion plain in his face. “Maybe a couple of hours of rest would help. I’ll use the couch in the computer room. Thanks for the meal, Gabe. It was terrific.”
“You’re welcome,” Gabriel said softly, watching the younger man leave the room. He turned to Samantha. “For the last time, Samantha, are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on here?”
“It doesn’t concern you or our deal,” she replied stubbornly. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’ll take your advice and go to bed. Come with me and I’ll show you a room you can use.” Without waiting for his consent, she led the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedrooms.
Gabriel followed obediently, not protesting when she showed him a room that was several doors down the hall from her own. “It’s a little early for me yet,” he said calmly as he saw her back to the door of her own bedroom. “I think I’ll read for a while downstairs.”
Samantha nodded. “Suit yourself. In the morning we can talk. Good night, Gabriel. Thanks for dinner.” Very firmly but very gently she shut the door in his face.
Gabriel stood quietly on the other side, staring unseeingly at the antique
woodwork as he pondered the situation, and then he went slowly back down the stairs and into the computer room. Eric was already sound asleep on the old Victorian fainting couch in the corner. He’d dimmed the lights before collapsing.
Thoughtfully Gabriel walked over to the desk on which the computer terminal sat and began shuffling idly through the piles of printouts lying near the printer. What had he stumbled into? What the devil was Samantha involved in now? He picked up a large stack of the most recent printouts, the ones Eric had been making just before dinner, and carried them out into the living room.
Sitting in front of a dying fire, a glass of Samantha’s excellent brandy near at hand, Gabriel settled into a huge, old, overstuffed chair and began taking a serious look at what he had found.
Samantha Maitland was one surprise after another.
Chapter Six
Loyalty. Nerve. “I’d trust her with my life,” Eric had concluded, outlining his sister’s redeeming characteristics.
He’d forgotten to mention one other aspect of Samantha’s personality, Gabriel decided an hour and a half later as he tossed aside the last of the printouts in disgust. She was definitely a little soft in the brain.
Because unless he was totally misreading the situation, it looked very much as if Eric was engaged in faking a whole set of Thorndyke industries financial data. And he’d called on Samantha to help him.
Gabriel gazed deeply into the embers of the fire, his mind pulling together all the facts and figures he’d just been through. What was Eric up to? Sabotaging the family firm? Stealing from it? Doctoring its computer files of financial data? Or was he preparing to steal from another firm’s computer files?
What the hell was going on?
But that question, he freely admitted, didn’t bother him nearly as much as the fact that Eric had involved Samantha. He’d come scurrying up here to Seattle to drag Samantha into whatever scam he had going.
And because somewhere along the line in her crazy family history Samantha had decided she owed her half brother her loyalty, she had let herself get mixed up in God knew what for his sake.
