“Hey, Maggie.”
Hearing her named shouted across the room startled her. When she looked in the direction the call had come from, she saw Tracy weaving through the crowd. And Henry followed close behind. Seeing the two of them together was just the thing to lift her spirits. “Hey, you guys, have a drink. It’s on the house.”
They both laughed, plucking their way through the crowd until they reached the end of the bar. “Great party,” Henry said. The smile on his face was as broad as the Grand Canyon.
Maggie delighted in every compliment she got on the bar, no matter how biased the source. “I’m glad you’re both here. Together.” She looked over to where she’d spotted Preston and saw, to her dismay, Rod now stood next to him. She turned back to Tracy and Henry, her temporarily buoyed spirits sinking once again. “I’m really glad you two are having a good time,” she said. “I think you both deserve it.”
Tracy smiled and cuddled closer to Henry. Then she nodded her head in the direction where Preston stood. “I think the same could be said for you.”
Maggie only allowed herself a quick glance. She didn’t want to admit her feelings to anyone until she got things straightened out with Preston.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Henry suggested.
How much had Preston said to his uncle about their night together? It seemed to her if he’d told Rod, there would be no reason to think he hadn’t told his uncle as well. She was starting to feel uncomfortably in the spotlight, and shook her head. “I’ll catch him later.”
Henry nodded. “Well, if you don’t mind, Tracy and I are going to dance.” Tracy was already tugging him off to the dance floor, and he looked like a teen-age boy being asked out for the first time.
As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, she looked over to see if Rod was still talking to Preston, but both of them had gone. She was left standing alone in the middle of her party.
She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and downed it in two gulps. The drink sent bubbles tickling up her nose and warmed her stomach. Her muscles relaxed slightly. Maybe now she could focus enough to find Preston and talk to him.
“Maggie! Maggie! Over here. Look who I’ve brought with me.”
Patrice. Her attention-getting squeal was unmistakable. Reluctantly, Maggie trained her gaze in the direction of her aunt.
She’d squeezed herself into a strapless gown covered entirely in red spangles. Maggie had seen the gown in the store window of a designer boutique in Palm Beach the last time she’d gone to visit. The dress cost in excess of twenty-five thousand dollars. A bit much for it to be a gift from an appreciative lover. Either Patrice’s money problems were greatly over-exaggerated, or she’d come across a quick fix for them recently. Maggie noticed, too, that Patrice had accented the dress with a ruby and diamond studded choker and matching earrings. She looked the picture of mega-wealth. As Maggie looked at Patrice, she heard Andy Clarke’s words repeating over and over again. “I don’t have to steal what I can easily buy.”
Of course. The meeting at Ty-Ken jumped immediately to mind. Patrice found wandering the hallways by a security guard. What had her aunt really been doing there? Apparently, more than Maggie had ever suspected. Patrice had even been so bold as to suggest Maggie invite the Clarkes to her charity ball. Everything was starting to make sense now.
“Patrice.” Maggie approached her aunt, wearing her most disarming smile. “And, Dave Sinclair, isn’t it?”
Dave was the host of a nationally-syndicated talk show. He referred to himself as the “Jerry Springer” of tomorrow, but Maggie thought even that description was a little too tame for him. She’d seen the show once. Once was enough.
Her aunt’s companion specialized in airing the problems of troubled youths. The guests he hosted were sullen, dressed in black, and usually sporting outrageous hairdos, purple Mohawks and the like, and multiple facial piercings. Tattoos were big, also. A normal show consisted of Dave taunting the youths until, inevitably, one of them would take a swing at him or some member of the studio audience, who frequently joined Dave in the guest heckling. Not exactly Maggie’s idea of respectable employment. As if those kids weren’t in need of enough therapy already.
Dave himself favored a hairdo with more coloring and hair spray than most super models, and had shown up in a Hawaiian shirt with plastic leis wrapped around his neck. She nodded politely in his direction and shook his hand when he offered it.
“Your aunt has been telling me all about the family business and her home in Palm Beach,” he said. “I understand it’s quite the social hot spot.”
Maggie grinned. “You could say that.” At least for the male population. “Patrice, if Dave could spare you for a moment, I need to have a word with you.”
Her aunt looked surprised, but didn’t resist Maggie’s dragging her upstairs to the office. Once inside, Patrice poured herself a straight shot of scotch and sat down on the couch, as if making herself right at home.
“I got a call from Andy Clarke this morning,” Maggie said, and stared Patrice down, silently daring her to say a word.
Patrice laughed, a small stifled kind of laugh that betrayed her nervousness. “Really? What on earth did he want? He’s not upset about not being invited to the charity ball, is he?”
Maggie ignored her aunt’s question, considering it nothing more than a diversionary tactic. “He wanted to brag about the list of Ty-Ken’s shareholders he bought from you.”
“What!” Patrice jumped to her feet, spilling her drink on her dress in the process, then immediately grabbing a tissue from a box on Maggie’s desk and dabbing at the wet spot on her chest. “Oh damn! My new dress! My God, I hope the cleaners can get this out!”
Maggie continued staring hard at her, not saying a word.
“Oh, Maggie. I swear to God I don’t know what that man is talking about! Why would he even say such a thing? I haven’t even seen him in weeks.”
Seen him? In weeks? Yeah, things made more and more sense all the time. “Spare me the denials, Patrice. I know you’re lying.”
“Maggie, I can explain. If you’ll just listen….”
“Save it! I don’t want to hear lies on top of everything else. Just get the hell out of my bar and never come back.”
“I’m your aunt, Maggie. I deserve to be treated with more respect than this.” Her eyes pleaded. “I practically raised you. You can’t just ….”
“Leave, Patrice. Now.”
“Fine. If that’s all family means to you. Your father would be so ashamed.”
“You can say that again. Helping Andy Clarke try to steal the company he founded. My father would definitely be ashamed.”
“Fine, then. Have it your way. Consider our family ties broken. I don’t owe you any loyalty anyway. I wasted my life raising you and the only thanks I got for it was a tiny share in your father’s estate, and no help from you when my finances floundered. If I did betray you, then believe me, dear niece, you deserved it.”
So that was her justification? Maggie watched dully as Patrice gathered herself in a huff, walking out with the glass of scotch still in her hand.
Chapter 52
Preston didn’t care to play “pick up chicks” with Rod, so he excused himself and left at the first opportunity, leaving the perpetually horny Rod to go hit on the skinny dippers. All he could think about was Rod saying Maggie had kissed him. Mostly, he didn’t want to believe it. But what Rod had said about her wanting to make sure Preston knew she wouldn’t marry him actually made a certain amount of sense. Maggie was stubborn beyond belief and she had a real penchant for making sure her point had been made and clearly understood. Part of him wanted to kill Rod whether it was true or not.
Preston crossed the perimeter of the dance floor, unmoved by the seductively dancing females. He’d had it with this party. He’d had it with the whole “partying” culture period. Hell, he’d had it with the whole damn day and he was ready to go home. Or, the rented beach house, he
mentally corrected. Home was still in Miami.
The night’s festivities were in full swing around him. He imagined the music and dancing and drinking would still be going strong two or three hours from now. But not for him. He was done for the night. He wove his way through a line of people, breathing in the various aromas of their cologne as he brushed by. He had the door within his sight when he felt a tug on his arm. He turned around and locked stares with Maggie. Damn, but his gut contracted at the sight of her. It was bullshit that he should still react to her when she’d just treated him like a used piece of tissue. But react to her he did. The mere touch of her fingers on his arm sent a spasm through his body.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. “It’s important.”
Seeing her brought him to a halt. He’d imagined all day how good she’d look for tonight’s party, and she didn’t disappoint. She wore a dress made of form-fitting burgundy that clung to her curves like Saran Wrap. She’d braided her long hair and pinned it in a bun on top of her head. Even in this crowd, he could smell the scent of her perfume. The sight and smell of her hardened him in an instant.
And that only pissed him off more. Made her rebuke of him this morning sting all the worse. “I was just on my way out,” he said tersely. “Can it wait until morning?”
She shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind waiting to hear about how Andy Clarke called me this morning bragging about having Ty-Ken’s shareholder list. And, who sold it to him.”
That did it. He stopped in his tracks. Leave it to Maggie to say the one thing that would keep him from walking out on her the way he so wanted to. “Andy Clarke has a list of our shareholders?”
She nodded toward the door. “Let’s go outside where we don’t have to shout.”
“Fine.”
Unfortunately, he’d barely taken another step when he was hailed by Rod. Evidently, he hadn’t had any luck with the skinny dippers, and now pushed his way through the crowd toward Preston and Maggie.
“Hey, you two, wait up.”
Preston could have punched someone. The last thing in the world he wanted right now was to see Maggie anywhere near Rod. His only consolation was that Maggie looked just as displeased as he felt. Not the reaction of a woman interested in kissing a man. “We were just about to slip outside and talk about something important that’s come up with the company,” Preston said when Rod caught up to them. “Someone sold Andy Clarke a list of Ty-Ken’s shareholders.”
“No shit?” The shock on Rod’s face matched his own. “Who the hell would do that?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out.”
There were other people out in the parking lot, some coming or going, a few just hanging out talking, and a few more locking lips. Preston walked over to the far corner, out of earshot from anyone who might think to listen. Maggie leaned back against the wall of the building and folded her arms underneath her breasts. Preston quickly cast his glance away. He didn’t want to think about making love to her anymore. “So,” he said. “Who sold Andy Clarke the list of shareholders?”
“My dear Aunt Patrice.”
“No way.” Her answer managed to shock him almost as much as finding out the list had been stolen in the first place. “How the hell did Patrice get her hands on the shareholder list? She’s not on the Board.”
“No, but if you recall, she was escorted to the strategy meeting we had there by a guard who found her wandering around the hallways.”
“That’s right. She was,” Rod said.
Preston figured he just had to make sure his presence didn’t go unnoticed. He ignored Rod and looked back to Maggie. “You’re sure it was Patrice?”
“I’m sure. I just had a talk with her, and she all but admitted it.”
His surprise subsided just enough for a terrible thought to occur, and his guilt over Elise’s suicide to surface all over again. “What if Elise really didn’t warn Andy we knew about Regina. What if that was Patrice, too?”
“Not possible,” Rod answered immediately. “Patrice didn’t know about Regina. It had to be Elise.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh come on.” Rod sounded exasperated. “Preston, you said yourself Elise told you she wasn’t sure the information would be of any use to you, and she only told you it was important so she could try and get you into bed with her.”
The look on Maggie’s face was instant mortification, and Preston could have killed Rod for it. “Okay, pal. I think you’ve made your point.”
“I only meant that once Elise realized you really could use the information and that it could have a negative impact on her family, she probably thought she had no choice but to go back and tell Andy. I mean, come on, Preston. We’ve been over this all before.”
“That’s right, Rod. We have been over this all before. There’s no need to go over it again.”
“Come on, Preston. You’re not mad, are you?”
“Rod, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Maggie alone.”
“Yeah, right.”
Preston watched as Rod stomped off across the parking lot and disappeared back inside the bar. “Maggie, I’m really sorry about that,” he said as soon as Rod was gone. “You know how insensitive he can be sometimes.”
“I know how insensitive a lot of people can be sometimes.”
Another insult. Why the hell was he even bothering to apologize? What the hell was he doing? Maggie had turned down his marriage proposal this morning. Turned him down flat. She hadn’t even taken the time to think about it. She didn’t want him. And he had vowed not to care. “I guess we really don’t have anything left to talk about.”
“Actually, there is something I’d like to tell you about Rod.”
Now it was coming. The confession he couldn’t bear to hear. “No need, Maggie. Rod’s already told me all about kissing you.”
“He has?”
He should have guessed that piece of news would surprise her. “Yes. And if you don’t mind, I really don’t want to hear anymore about it.”
He walked away fast, before he could change his mind. Before he could give her another chance to make him feel like less than a man.
Chapter 53
Andy Clarke had gone too far this time. And Patrice intended to face him down about it. Telling Maggie about the shareholder list just about guaranteed a huge cut in her social circle. Maggie would tell Preston, and Preston would have her blackballed in half of Palm Beach and most of Miami. And with the pool of desirable husband material being as dried up as it was, well, that wasn’t going to work. She’d hopped on the first flight she could find to Palm Beach, fuming the entire time.
She jogged along the path at the country club, where she knew Andy could be counted on to jog promptly at seven in the morning every day. Right before he made his way to the men’s locker room and then into the Men’s Grill for breakfast.
Obligingly enough, he rounded the corner just as as she’d decided exactly what to say to him. “Andy Clarke, you back-stabbing asshole. All the money in the world can’t buy you favors if you’re going to blab about them afterward.”
Andy stopped jogging and looked in all directions around the otherwise deserted jogging path. “You’re goddamn lucky there’s no one around to hear you say that. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Patrice was instantly indignant. “I might ask you that same question. How dare you call my niece and tell her I sold you that list of shareholders! Do you have any idea the havoc you have just wreaked in my social life?”
His face turned red. “Woman, you’ve got one hell of a nerve picking a fight with me. And just for the record, I did not tell Maggie you sold me that list. And I don’t give a damn about your social life.”
“Well!” If Andy Clarke weren’t such a rich and powerful man, she just might have to slap him. “So why don’t you explain to me how Maggie knew you had the list.”
“Because I told her I did.”
Andy’s face had grown re
d and Patrice would bet money he’d just had a detectable rise in his blood pressure. “So you did tell her I sold the list to you.”
“Goddamn it to hell. I did not!” There was a noise on the other side of the bushes, and Patrice withheld a response just long enough to discern it was just the scampering of a squirrel. “Andy, you are either getting senile, or you think I’m the stupidest female on the planet. Now, did you tell Maggie about the shareholder list or not?”
“I told her I had it.” The coloring in his face had deepened to scarlet. “And that was all. If she found out you were the one who sold it to me, it was from someone else.”
Damn, but the man was starting to infuriate her. “And just who else would know that besides the two of us?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Andy pushed roughly past her, jerking Patrice rudely to the side so he could continue down the path. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my jog.”
As Patrice watched him disappear down the dirt trail that wound around a curve of the hedgerow, she swore she had never been so miserably pissed off in all her life. How dare he backstab her and then have the nerve to lie right to her face? Sooner or later, she would find a way to make him pay.
GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies) Page 21
