A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  “I'm Methodist,” Claire replied automatically. The thought of a wedding dress and a thousand guests had her reeling. The situation was getting more complicated by the day.

  “Close enough.” Grams laughed. “Now, hurry along. You don't want to keep Garrett waiting. And tell my grandson that I want a date set before you finish your lunch. I'm not one to dally about and wait until the last minute for things. I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm glad you don't have a maiden aunt in the city to take my place. I rather like the idea of planning the wedding. It gives me something to look forward to."

  Claire smiled as she leaned down to place an affectionate kiss on the older woman's cheek. “If it makes you happy, then Garrett and I are happy."

  Grams gave her a pensive look, before she smiled again. “I don't know what my grandson did to deserve you, but I'm glad he did it. I couldn't have picked a more perfect wife for him if I'd interviewed every woman in the state of California. In the short time that you've been here, I've come to think of you as family, Claire, and I'm sure that you and Garrett will have a wonderful life together."

  “I'm sure we will,” she lied, hating the words. “Now, be sure and take a nap. You know how grumpy Garrett gets when he thinks you aren't getting enough rest."

  “He's a pain in the backside more times than not,” Grams retorted.

  “He loves you,” Claire replied. That much she could say without doubt or hesitation and know that it was true. Garrett adored his grandmother. He could love. The banker wasn't as coldhearted as Christopher Landauer believed. But Garrett didn't love her. Claire had to admit that heart-wrenching fact and get on with her plans to find Donald. She didn't belong in the mansion on Nob Hill. Sooner or later she'd have to leave and make a life for herself, one that didn't include Garrett Monroe.

  Claire stepped down from the carriage a short time later. She had seen the exterior of the bank on several occasions, but having no money, she'd never had a need to pass through its door. When she did, she felt as if she'd discovered another facet of Garrett's personality. A clerk showed her to his office. He was sitting behind a large desk, going through ledgers. He looked like a banker. His suit was dark and impeccably cut. The room carried the faint odor of cigars and male cologne. She'd entered a male domain and Claire felt it as surely as she felt the heat of Garrett's silver eyes as he stood to greet her. He ruled supreme here and she suddenly realized that the decisions he made affected more than just one young lady from Cincinnati. He could make or break people with a cast of the financial cards.

  “You're right on time,” Garrett said. His expression didn't reveal that he'd been thinking about her for the last hour. He'd counted the passing of the minutes instead of concentrating on the figures on his desk. It wasn't like him to let his personal life interfere with business. He justified his obsession by reminding himself that Claire was business. He'd hired her to perform a specific task and up to now, she was doing it very well. There were times when Garrett could almost convince himself that she really did love him.

  But not today. There was no hint of adoration in Claire's hazel eyes as she looked at him. On the contrary, she looked angry. Angry enough to bash him over the head with the brass paperweight sitting on the corner of his desk. He resumed his seat and unlocked the right drawer of his mahogany desk. Withdrawing his personal ledger, he made an entry.

  “I'll have one thousand dollars deposited in an account under your name by day's end,” he said. “An equal amount will be deposited at the first of each month for as long as our engagement is active."

  Claire's mouth dropped open. She'd never imagined her salary being that excessive. “It's too much,” she said, doing her best to steady her breathing. “I can't accept it."

  “You most certainly can,” Garrett replied in an autocratic voice. “And you will. I insist."

  “You can't always have what you want,” Claire said, remembering this was the man who wanted to turn her into a ruined woman. “The money you've spent on my wardrobe and jewelry is more than I can ever repay."

  “Your clothing was part of our arrangement, Claire. And I must say, it's money well spent. You look very pretty today."

  The compliment sounded sincere, but Claire couldn't let herself believe it. Like her, Garrett was becoming accustomed to the roles they were playing. He was being polite, nothing more.

  “Shall we have lunch at the hotel?"

  He came to his feet and Claire looked up at him. Where was the anger that had consumed her ever since she'd heard him speaking with Christopher Landauer in the Fletchers’ library? How could she hate the man one moment and love him the next? She wasn't some silly schoolgirl. She was a woman full grown with a mind of her own and a missing brother who was going to beat Garrett to a bloody pulp if he found out the banker wanted to turn her into a mistress instead of a wife.

  “Before we have lunch, I want to talk to you about my brother. Has Mr. Wilson turned up anything?” Garrett shook his head. “Nothing more than you already know. Donald painted a house, collected his pay, and disappeared like a puff of smoke. But don't worry yourself over it. San Francisco is a big city and these things take time. Hiram will find him. Eventually."

  “Eventually isn't soon enough,” Claire told him. “Your grandmother wants us to set a date for the wedding. I can't keep this up much longer, Garrett.” She had gotten used to calling him by his first name. “I've grown very fond of Grams. I don't want to hurt her."

  “Then don't,” he said, coming around the corner of the desk to perch on the edge of it. His legs brushed against her dress. “Let me do the worrying. It may take months to find your brother.” He held up his hand to silence her when Claire started to reply. “I know you don't like hearing that, but it's true. Until your brother is found, you'll remain a guest in my home and continue playing the part of my fiancée. As for the wedding date, one year is the customary period of time between an engagement and a wedding. That should satisfy Grams."

  It seemed like forever, and Claire didn't like the idea of continuing her charade that far into the future. In fact, she was sure she couldn't continue it. She'd only known Garrett for a month and she was already hopelessly in love with him. If she didn't find her brother soon, Claire knew her heart would be beyond repair.

  “Now, let's have lunch. I'm famished."

  Claire stood up. She watched as Garrett locked his desk, thinking of all the times he'd held her in his arms while they danced at parties. She could recall with vivid clarity every instant of the two times he'd kissed her. The memory was so real she woke up at night, thinking he'd stolen into her room to wake her with a kiss. She trembled whenever he touched her and she pretended that it was natural because people were watching them. But it was natural. Her feelings for him had become a part of her. Loving him seemed as easy as breathing and she couldn't do anything about it but pretend to Garrett she had no feelings whatsoever where he was concerned. Either way, she was forced to play a part. The only certainty in the whole sordid mess was knowing that she'd never allow herself to become Garrett's mistress. She had too much pride to ever let that happen.

  * * * *

  It was midweek and the hotel dining room was filled with businessmen. Claire recognized a good portion of them now and she smiled as they spoke to her. As always, Garrett was at her side. She was reaching for her napkin when a blond woman walked into the room. The attractively beautiful lady was escorted by Christopher Landauer and he smiled as he guided her toward the table where Claire and Garrett were sitting. She couldn't be sure, but Claire thought Garrett's eyes flashed with anger for a brief moment before he came to his feet.

  “Christopher,” he said in a neutral voice.

  “Garrett,” his friend replied. “Of course, you know Miss Holmes. I believe you and her father conducted some business while you were in England."

  “Miss Holmes.” Garrett acknowledged the beautiful woman with his usual charming smile. He motioned toward Claire. “May I introduce my fiancée, Miss
Claire Aldrich."

  “Christopher told me all about you,” Miss Holmes replied. Her accent was definitely British. “No one expected Garrett to marry,” she added. “May I offer my congratulations."

  Claire was smiling until Christopher addressed the woman by her first name. Evelyn. So that's what a mistress looks like, Claire thought. The woman was beautiful. Claire felt her heart sink to her feet.

  “We didn't mean to intrude,” Christopher said. “Enjoy your lunch."

  Claire watched as the couple moved away to a corner table. They were still in sight and her stomach churned at the thought of eating while Garrett's mistress was in the room. Her appetite vanished and she looked over to find Garrett's face an unreadable mask. She wasn't sure if he was upset over Christopher taking him up on his offer to entertain Evelyn Holmes, or if he was jealous because another man was with the woman who normally warmed his bed. Claire didn't want to think that while she was lying awake at night, mooning over the banker, Garrett was sneaking out of the house to satisfy his carnal appetites. More importantly, she didn't like to think that Garrett had kissed the beautiful Evelyn Holmes the same way he'd kissed her.

  But then men did more than kiss their mistresses. They ... Claire blocked out the image of Garrett's naked body entwined with the beautiful blonde.

  “She's lovely,” Claire said as Garrett's eyes drifted toward the table where his mistress was sitting with his best friend.

  “In her own way,” Garrett replied as he turned his attention back to Claire. “Would you like me to order?"

  “Yes, please,” Claire retorted, surprised that he could act so casually about the matter. Then she realized he was a good actor. After all, he'd convinced the whole of San Francisco that he was in love with her.

  Garrett talked about the upcoming Fourth of July picnic while Claire concentrated on chewing her food and swallowing it without becoming sick. The more she thought about the mess she'd gotten herself into the more her stomach rebelled. Halfway through the meal, she put down her fork.

  “What's wrong?” Garrett asked, sounding concerned.

  “Nothing,” Claire lied. “I'm just not very hungry."

  “Would you like to leave?"

  “No.” She shook her head. “Finish your lunch. I'm content to sip my tea."

  It wouldn't do to let him think that seeing Christopher and Evelyn Holmes had upset her. The only way she could account for knowing the woman's identity would be to confess that she'd eavesdropped on a private conservation. Feelings of rage and betrayal snaked through Claire as the sound of Evelyn's laugher drifted across the dining room. Christopher was smiling, clearly amused about something, and Claire wondered if Garrett's mistress knew the truth about her lover's engagement.

  “How about a walk?” Garrett said, coming to his feet as he tossed his napkin onto the table. “It's a nice day and you should show off that dress. It suits you."

  Forcing a well-rehearsed smile to her face, Claire reached for her parasol. Once they were outside, she opened it, shading her face from the noonday sun and Garrett's probing eyes.

  “Tell me what's wrong,” he said, once the sidewalk had cleared of other pedestrians and he'd told Henry to follow with the carriage.

  “Nothing's wrong now that wasn't wrong ten minutes ago,” Claire retorted a little too hastily to convince him. “I'm worried about my brother."

  Garrett didn't believe her, but he didn't push the point. There was no way that Claire could know that Evelyn had been his mistress for several months. The relationship was in the past tense. Garrett hadn't visited her since Claire had moved into the house he shared with his grandmother. The lovely blonde didn't interest him. Garrett wasn't sure she ever had. He was simply used to having a woman at his beck and call. He thought about Christopher mounting Evelyn, but the image didn't spark any reaction. No jealousy. Nothing.

  He looked at Claire. A similar image flashed in his mind, but this time it wasn't Christopher and the sophisticated blonde. It was him and Claire. Naked. Their bodies were damp with sweat and she was moaning as he rode her until she convulsed in his arms, caught up in the sensual storm of her first climax. The illusion had an immediate effect on Garrett and he cursed under his breath.

  Claire looked at him. “Grams asked me to do some shopping for her. Do you mind if I excuse myself to buy some embroidery thread."

  “Not at all,” Garrett replied, thinking of the bottle of imported Scotch he kept in his desk drawer. He could use a drink.

  He motioned for the carriage and helped Claire inside. Once he was seated next to her he turned the conversation back to the Fourth of July picnic being held at Russ Gardens. The gardens were a pleasant blend of wide spreading trees, flowering shrubs, and cool little arbors where people celebrating the Fourth of July would gather with picnic baskets while children ran about the grassy knolls, tossing balls and spinning brightly colored hoops. The city resort had become a playground for its wealthy residents and the day's celebrations would end with a fireworks display that rivaled any in the world.

  “Christopher has invited Belinda Belton again."

  “What about Miss Holmes?” Claire dared to asked. “He seems very attracted to her."

  If the question caused Garrett any discomfort, he didn't show it. “The Fourth of July celebration is the city's biggest summer affair and Mrs. Belton has hosted the party for the last several years. It wouldn't be to Christopher's advantage to bring Miss Holmes. I think my friend has visions of owning his own bank someday and Belinda's father is a banker."

  Claire frowned. She liked Belinda, in spite of her mother. “He shouldn't escort her to parties if he doesn't have any feelings for her,” she said. “I'd hate to see Belinda, or any woman, in a loveless marriage."

  “Marriage for money is as old as time,” Garrett said candidly. “Belinda isn't the sort to defy her family. She's expected to marry well and Christopher isn't a pauper. He's a shrewd businessman who's made a small fortune in the import business."

  “I thought he owned hotels."

  “He has other interests along with the hotels. His father was a missionary in China. Christopher was born in Peking. He speaks their language and understands their customs."

  “That explains the exquisite jade carvings in his office,” Claire remarked. “But it's hard to picture him as a minister's son."

  Garrett laughed. “I doubt that Christopher has been inside a church since his father's death, although he's given generous donations to every parish in the city. And yes, he collects Chinese art, among other things,” Garrett told her, thinking of the string of young Chinese girls his friend had entertained himself with over the years.

  Garrett had taken a Chinese mistress years earlier and the woman had proven to be very skilled in the sexual arts. He still visited her on occasion, when he wanted to experience the exotic pleasures she'd taught him to enjoy.

  The carriage stopped in front of the bank and Garrett looked at Claire. What would she think if he told her that he wanted to feel her mouth traveling over his body, licking and tasting until he was fighting desire like a demon? Would she straddle his hips and take him inside her, wanting the pleasure as badly as he did? Would she cry out in her passion, demanding as much from his body as he demanded from hers? He couldn't image Belinda Belton casting her inhibitions to the wind and submitting to Christopher's Oriental appetites, but the image of Claire, her hair unbound, her body flushed with desire, her eyes glowing with need, stayed with Garrett as he stepped down from the carriage and entered the bank.

  He found Hiram Wilson waiting to see him.

  “Any news?” Garrett asked as he closed the door to his private office.

  “Perhaps,” the investigator replied.

  Hiram Wilson was a short, thin man with a distinct pride in his profession. Well dressed in a dark brown suit, his eyes gleamed with enthusiasm about the assignment in front of him. Hiram liked solving puzzles and Donald Aldrich had become an intriguing one.

  “Tell me,�
� Garrett said as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He had a lot of work to do before the day ended. Now that he had a fiancée waiting at home, he did his best to join Grams and Claire for dinner.

  “I've been able to locate a gentleman, an old railroad worker, who apparently knows our elusive Mr. Aldrich. I contacted him by telegram and he's agreed to see me. I've arranged to leave on the afternoon train for Tucson. I should be back by the end of the week."

  Garrett nodded, keeping his opinion to himself. “I'll expect a full report."

  “Yes, sir.” Hiram turned on the heels of his well-polished shoes and left Garrett to brood about what the timid-looking investigator may or may not discover while the rest of the country was celebrating the Fourth of July.

  Chapter Nine

  Claire dressed for the Fourth of July picnic with a heavy heart and a sense of dread. Libby had laid out an apple green silk dress with white lace around the cuffs and collar. There was a matching parasol to shade her face and delicate white leather slippers to cover her feet, but Claire was more concerned with Garrett's mood than her wardrobe. He'd come home from the bank the day they'd had lunch with a sour look on his face. Immediately after dinner, he'd retired to his library for the evening, claiming that he had work to do.

  Knowing that banking wasn't as easy as simply having money to lend, Claire wanted to believe that Garrett was preoccupied with matters of business, but she couldn't help but wonder if the change in his mood had anything to do with Evelyn Holmes and Christopher Landauer. She'd come to know Garrett well enough over the last few weeks to realize that he was a possessive man by nature. Although he'd acted with indifference at having his best friend escort his mistress to lunch, and he'd all but offered Evelyn to Christopher on a silver platter that evening in the Fletchers’ library, Claire was sure it had to sting Garrett's pride to think of his best friend and his mistress sharing an intimate relationship.