A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  “Your grandmother is the only family you have."

  Garrett nodded as he reached for his champagne glass. “That's why making her happy is so important to me. I owe her more than I can ever repay."

  “But you're willing to deceive her,” Claire reminded him.

  “I'm willing to do all that I can do to make her happy,” he replied dryly. His smile disappeared for a moment. “Let this be the last time we discuss this particular issue, Miss Aldrich. You've accepted the position as my fiancée. It's done. Our appearance together tonight is only the opening act."

  Claire accepted the reprimand, but she didn't like it. Reminding herself that the reason she was having dinner with Garrett Monroe was because she wanted to find her brother, Claire sipped her champagne and smiled. “How will you go about looking for Donald?"

  “I have a talented investigator at my disposal,” he replied, knowing that her financial situation was the key to her cooperation. It pricked his temper to think that if Claire wasn't in dire straits, she'd probably stand up and walk out of the room. “If your brother's alive, Hiram will find him."

  Claire went pale and her glass wobbled precariously for a moment. Garrett took it out of her hand and set it on the table, regretting his choice of words. “I'm sorry,” he said. “It was a figure of speech, nothing more."

  Claire closed her eyes for a moment. The thought of Donald being in trouble had plagued her since she'd arrived in the city. The thought of him being dead made her blood run cold. “He's the only family I have,” she said shakily. “If anything's happened to him..."

  “I'm sure your brother is alive and well,” Garrett said, placing his hand on top of hers. “Hiram will find him, don't worry."

  “You must think me a coward,” Claire said, wishing she could withdraw her hand but knowing the people still giving them curious glances would notice. She put on her best smile and looked across the table at Garrett. “And you must think Donald a terrible man. I assure you, he isn't. He's generous and fun-loving and I know he's going to feel terrible about my being in the city without his knowledge. My letter didn't reach him. If it had, he would have been at the train station."

  Garrett didn't want to discuss Claire's brother. Time and Hiram Wilson's investigation would tell him everything he needed to know. The waiter brought their food and they began to eat. He was telling Claire an amusing anecdote about one of his investors when Christopher walked into the dining room and headed for their table.

  “Miss Aldrich,” Christopher said, giving her an admiring look before he acknowledged Garrett. “I hope your stay at the Landauer is satisfactory. If it isn't, be sure to tell me. I know the owner personally."

  Claire laughed softly. “Thank you, Mr. Landauer."

  “Call me Christopher,” he said with his customary charm. “After all, Garrett is my best friend, and as far as Grams is concerned, I'm an official member of the family."

  “He's the proverbial black sheep,” Garrett told her. “But Grams invites him to Sunday dinner regardless of his unsavory reputation."

  Claire smiled as the two men exchanged polite insults.

  “I look forward to seeing you at the Belton ball,” Christopher said, before telling Garrett that some men had to work for a living and excusing himself.

  “The Belton ball?"

  “It's Saturday night,” Garrett told her. “Henry Belton is another banker. The two of us maintain a gentlemanly game of competition for the city's money. His wife is giving a charity ball. The timing is perfect. I'll introduce you as my fiancée."

  Claire's stomach knotted momentarily. She had thought Garrett would give her some time to get to know him better before he pushed her into the lion's den. “But I'm only meeting your grandmother Saturday afternoon. Isn't the party a little too soon to announce our engagement."

  Garrett smiled again. Claire wished the expression didn't make him look so roguishly handsome.

  “If I don't announce it, Grams will,” he told her. “I've never invited a lady to my home before. The moment you walk through the door, my grandmother is going to know there's a reason to my madness."

  “Of course,” Claire said softly. “We're supposed to be in love."

  “That's right,” Garrett reminded her. “So, finish your dessert. It's a lovely night. We can take a walk around the courtyard before I'm forced to call an end to the evening."

  It wasn't that late, but Claire didn't question his remark. Whatever Garrett did with his time was none of her business. She was nothing more than a paid employee and he was her boss. What he did, and who he did it with, were of no concern to her. All that mattered was finding Donald and keeping her heart safe.

  As Claire dipped a spoon into the small silver bowl filled with peach cobbler, fresh cream, and chopped nuts, she had a premonition that finding her brother was going to be the easier of the two tasks.

  * * * *

  The courtyard was cool and filled with shadows. Overhead the moon hung like a bright silver platter in the sky and the sound of laughter drifted out of the hotel. There was a party and Claire wondered what the people were celebrating.

  Garrett walked beside her, his expression blank, his hands tucked casually behind his back. Claire cast him a leery look, her mind racing with all the facts he'd recited while they'd eaten. She'd never remember them all, but she liked observing people and she was sure that if she kept her eyes and ears open, she'd learn even more from Garrett's grandmother than she'd learned from the handsome banker.

  Garrett stopped suddenly and looked at her. Claire found herself gazing into his smoky eyes and wondering what thoughts filled his head. Was he worried that she'd make a mess of things or was he having second thoughts about the charade they had set into motion? His features had a worried look as he motioned for her to sit down.

  Claire made herself comfortable while Garrett looked over his shoulder toward the hotel. “Christopher Landauer and I have been friends most of our lives,” he said. “While you're at the hotel, I want you to act like a guest."

  Claire didn't like the tone of his voice and she didn't care for the implication of his words. “How else would I act?” she answered. “I am a guest."

  Garrett let out a frustrated sigh. He wanted to warn Claire about Christopher's insatiable appetite for women, but he didn't want to scare her off the deal they'd made. Thinking through his words, he met her searching gaze. “Christopher is attracted to you and I don't want that attraction to get in the way of our arrangement."

  “If you're implying that I have encouraged your friend, then..."

  “Don't get your temper up,” Garrett said. “Christopher isn't always the gentleman he appears to be. My words were meant to be a caution. Nothing more."

  “Your words are insulting,” Claire said as she stood up. “And I'm beginning to question your behavior, as well. After all, you're hiring me to join you in a fictitious charade to fool your grandmother into thinking that you have honest feelings for a lady. That doesn't speak too highly of you, Mr. Monroe."

  His pride felt the sting of Claire's well-aimed words. After a tense moment he forced himself to relax. His new fiancée was right and they both knew it. “I'm sorry if I offended you. Just keep in mind that Christopher's reputation is even more unsavory than mine and keep your distance when I'm not around."

  The apology lacked the enthusiasm Claire wanted, but then Garrett didn't have to apologize at all. He was in control of the situation and if her actions didn't please him he could retaliate by ending their arrangement and finding another woman. Claire couldn't afford that at the moment.

  “It's time you went in,” Garrett said, turning toward the hotel. “I'll see you again Saturday afternoon. We usually have lunch out on the patio, weather permitting."

  Claire walked back to the hotel beside him. He didn't touch her until they reached the door of her room.

  “Good night,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  Once again the heat of his mouth pressed to the skin jus
t above her knuckles had an intoxicating affect on her body. The caress only lasted a brief moment, but it was enough to make Claire realize she was in for another sleepless night. She watched as Garrett moved down the hall, away from her. When he disappeared from sight, she slumped against the door of her room and released a deep sigh. How was she going to stop herself from falling in love with the man when she could already feel herself plunging off the cliff into a romantic abyss that offered no promise of his love in return?

  “Think about your brother,” Claire chided herself as she unlocked the door and entered her room. The silent battle continued as she undressed and got into bed. It didn't take her long to realize that she'd be the loser if she forfeited her heart too easily to her new employer. Garrett had told her in plain, precise words that he had no inclination to marry.

  Snuggling under the covers, Claire closed her eyes and told herself the same thing. She was young and she had plenty of time to fall in love with the right man. In spite of her good intentions and reasonable thoughts, the night brought more dreams of the San Francisco banker, but this time Garrett was waltzing her around a brightly lit ballroom and Claire was dressed like a bride.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Saturday rolled around, Claire was pacing the floor of her hotel suite like a caged lioness. She was wearing a golden brown faille dress with a full chemisette front of gold taffeta. The puffy sleeves narrowed as they approached her wrists, which was the current style. A large leghorn hat accented with dark gold ribbon was lying on the bed, waiting to be placed on Claire's head the moment Libby tapped on the door and informed her that Mr. Monroe was waiting in the lobby.

  They were to lunch with Theodora Monroe, the grandam of San Francisco society, and Garrett's beloved grandmother.

  Claire passed by the mirror and stopped to look at the dress one more time. The autumn colors suited her own natural coloring. She'd been amazed at how quickly the alterations had been done. Mrs. Carlton, the dressmaker, had arrived the previous morning with the enthusiasm of an invading army and Claire had been measured, pinched into a corset, and measured again. She'd argued that the six evening gowns, twelve day dresses, and the other assorted items Garrett had ordered were excessive, but Mrs. Carlton had only smiled and insisted that each and every garment was essential. The robust lady had added a “poor dear” to her remarks, offering her regrets that Claire's luggage had been stolen from the train and left her with so little to wear. Claire hadn't corrected her misconception, knowing that Garrett had fabricated the likely excuse to explain the need for her services.

  Shortly after Mrs. Carlton had filled the suite with her fabric samples and chatter, the clerk from the millinery shop had arrived. The leghorn hat was only one of the six fashionable hats and bonnets that had been selected, with the dressmaker's help, to complete Claire's wardrobe. Then came shoes, silk undergarments that made Claire blush, and three parasols to keep the California sun from ruining her fair complexion.

  As Claire looked at the fashionable dress delivered early that morning, her smile turned into a frown. She'd realized that Garrett was rich, but she was beginning to see that her definition was limited by her experience with the upper class. Filthy rich was more like it.

  Libby's firm tap on the door brought Claire out of her miseries. At least the waiting was over. As usual, Libby came sauntering into the room with a smile on her face. She frowned when she saw the breakfast tray she'd left earlier that morning. Claire had been too nervous to eat more than a small slice of dry toast.

  “Mr. Monroe is downstairs,” the maid told Claire. “I'll pack up your things and have them delivered to the house."

  “I won't be returning to the hotel?” Claire asked, then realized she shouldn't have seemed surprised by the bit of news. Garrett made the rules. She was being paid to follow them.

  Libby shook her head. “Mr. Monroe told Andy to have everything sent up to the Hill right away. Do you need help with your hat?"

  “No, thank you,” Claire said as she picked up the expensive piece of headwear and set it on top of her head. She secured it in place with a pearl-tipped hat pin while a flock of butterflies gathered in her stomach. Turning to the maid, she smiled. “Thank you for all your help, Libby. I've enjoyed getting to know you."

  The maid seemed genuinely flattered. “Oh, you're welcome, Miss Aldrich. Everyone in the hotel is abuzz with the talk. I wish you and Mr. Monroe a long and happy future."

  Claire gave her a warm smile. “Thank you."

  With nothing left to be said, Claire gave her appearance one last scrutinizing glance before she left the suite. The noon hour was fast approaching and the corridor was void of guests. She nodded to another maid, whose arms were loaded with bed linens, and Claire realized that a strange twist of fate had prevented her from being occupied with the same task. If she hadn't entered the hotel a few days ago and asked for a job, she would never have met Garrett Monroe. Now, she was on her way to the top of Nob Hill to have lunch with Theodora Monroe and to take up residence for weeks, or maybe months.

  As Claire reached the lobby, she realized that praying for a timely end to her role as Garrett's fiancée meant praying for his grandmother's quick demise. The thought sent a wave of guilt through her and she hastily corrected her petition to the Almighty. She'd gotten herself into this mess, with a little help from her wayward brother, and now she'd have to make the most of it until ... Claire was searching for an answer when she saw Garrett. Her mind went blank the moment they made eye contact.

  Garrett stared at the elegantly dressed young woman who had just stepped away from the staircase. For several long seconds, he absorbed the way the clothing accentuated Claire's natural beauty. The golden shades of the dress and hat made her hair glow and her hazel eyes seem larger than life. The skirt lay smoothly over her hips and stomach. The bodice hugged her exquisite figure, making Garrett's mouth water to taste the pale skin and womanly nipples it concealed. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined removing the dress slowly. Very slowly. So he could kiss and caress each inch of skin he bared. He imagined holding her breasts in his hands and circling their rosy tips with his tongue until they hardened into tiny pearls. He imagined making love to her, moving over her, in and out of her, until they both relented to a release so sweet it was painful.

  Every muscle in his body was taut with control as he stepped forward to meet Claire and he knew every man in the lobby could read his thoughts as easily as they'd read the headlines of the morning paper.

  “You look lovely,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

  Claire's heart was beating so hard she could barely reply. Her eyes scanned his face and she could feel the butterflies in her stomach being tossed around as it did a flip-flop that nearly made her gasp. Garret held out his hand and she accepted it, feeling the warmth of his touch travel up her arm and penetrate her own body. The sensation made her feel self-conscious and she looked away for a moment.

  “Grams is waiting,” Garrett said lightly. “Although she thinks that she's only waiting for me. Tomorrow is her birthday. You're going to be her surprise present."

  “Is that good?” Claire asked, mindless to the envious stares Garrett was getting from the other men in the lobby, including Christopher Landauer. “I mean, if she has a weak heart?"

  “She's going to be thrilled,” Garrett told her. What he didn't say was that he was feeling something akin to the same emotion as he placed Claire's hand on his arm and escorted her out of the hotel lobby.

  Claire had never ventured to the top of Nob Hill and she sat in the carriage, awed by the grandeur of the homes. When the carriage turned into a circular cobblestone drive, Claire gasped with surprise. Garrett's home was a miniature palace. The front entrance was approached by a flight of steps that terminated in a covered porch of gingerbread trim and elaborate Romanesque columns. Three stories high with rounded towers on each end, the house was painted a light beige with white trim. The residence was a beautiful but complex stru
cture of bay windows, gables, and several tall white-brick chimneys.

  “It's lovely,” Claire said, turning to look at Garrett for the first time since the carriage had pulled away from the hotel. He'd seemed equally content with silence while she'd studied her new surroundings. “It must be the grandest house in all the city."

  “Not quite,” he told her. “But my grandmother likes it and it's comfortable. Your room overlooks the rear garden."

  Mentioning that Claire would soon be sleeping under his roof brought back the desire Garrett had thought he'd had under control once they were in the carriage. He'd intentionally avoided conversation, knowing that the sound of Claire's voice would only agitate his aroused condition.

  Claire was having a similar reaction to the statement. Sitting in a carriage with Garrett was bad enough. How was she going to keep her composure when she was actually living in his house, seeing him all hours of the day and night? No woman was that good of an actress and Claire knew that no matter how many times she reminded herself she was being paid to play a role, her feelings were going to get in the way. They already were.

  Garrett helped her down from the carriage. “Don't be nervous,” he told her. “My grandmother is a wonderful woman."

  Claire was more worried about her performance than his grandmother's personality. Garrett led her through an elaborately carved oak door into a tile-paved vestibule. The foyer area was lighted by beveled glass that diffused the morning sunshine. A butler appeared to take Garrett's hat and gloves, telling them that his grandmother was waiting in the parlor. Claire took a deep breath, hindered by the sudden tightness of her corset as they moved through a large doorway trimmed in antique oak and into the parlor. The silver-haired lady sitting on the velvet settee looked up in surprise. She was dressed in a deep purple day dress with black lace around the collar and cuffs. Her hand was pale and delicate as she raised it to her chest and for a moment Claire feared that she had been right. The lady was shocked by her unexpected appearance.