A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  It was past midnight. She hadn't heard Garrett come upstairs, but then she'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of her brother, Claire doubted if she could have heard a herd of cattle making their way up the wide, curving staircase.

  Slipping a robe over her gown, she looked at the door. The thought of sneaking into Garrett's library and trying to find the investigator's report had been inching into her mind more and more. If she could get Donald's address, she could go to Chinatown and find him.

  Reaching for the cane, propped against the vanity table, Claire took a long breath to fortify her courage and headed gingerly toward the door.

  * * * *

  Garrett read the investigation report a third time. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back in his chair. Hiram had discovered some very disturbing facts. Donald Aldrich had indeed been dismissed from his position with the Union Pacific Railroad. There hadn't been enough evidence to file charges, but there had been enough suspicion to warrant his dismissal. After that, he'd taken on odd jobs. Enough to pay his expenses for several months. Then, almost overnight, he'd turned up in Chinatown with a Chinese girl who kept house for him during the day and probably warmed his bed at night.

  The relationship between Claire's brother and Chen Loo was vague, but there was definitely a connection. Claire's brother had been seen talking to several men who were still employed by the railroad and Hiram had ventured a guess that Donald Aldrich was still trying to smuggle opium via the Union Pacific. His years with the railroad, beginning in Chicago and ending in San Francisco, gave him connections in the Midwest where opium dens were becoming the rage. St. Louis and other cities that had once been the gateways for western expansion were taking on a more sophisticated demeanor.

  The magical drug had always been in demand. In his more adventurous youth, Garrett had visited several Chinese brothels. Once, he'd even tried opium. The drug had made him feel light-headed and strange, and he'd suffered an excruciating headache for days afterward. The experience had cured his curiosity and he'd avoided both the opium-induced state and the houses that specialized in it ever since.

  Opium was big business, which meant that it was smart to transport the drug by the most economical means. The railroad made the route from San Francisco to the interior of the country much shorter than the passage by sea. Chen Loo was a criminal by trade, but his success also proved he was a prudent businessman.

  Garrett stood up, stretching his tense muscles as he raised his arms toward the ceiling. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. His plans to visit Donald Aldrich and confront Claire's brother face-to-face would have to be postponed until Christopher returned to the city. Garrett didn't know enough about Chinatown to go snooping about on his own. Christopher spoke the language and he had contacts inside the Oriental community that would prove helpful.

  Thinking a small snack might ease some of his restlessness, Garrett turned down the lamp on his desk and left the library. Mrs. Smalley usually kept fresh fruit in the kitchen and she knew he was fond of apples and pears. Walking into the foyer, Garrett glanced at the staircase that led upstairs where Claire was sleeping. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he had the audacity to sneak into the room for a glimpse of her pretty face. Deciding he'd tempted fate enough for one day, Garrett made his way toward the kitchen.

  Claire inched her way down the stairs. The house was quiet except for the metallic clicking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. With a bitter pain that she was reduced to the status of a thief, Claire made her way toward the library. The door was slightly ajar and she held her breath as she gave it a gentle push and prayed that Garrett wasn't inside. The door glided open and she released a sigh of relief. The room was empty.

  She let out another sigh of relief when she saw several sheets of paper lying on Garrett's desk. The handwriting was bold, but clear, and she could make out her brother's name at the top of one of the pages. Claire studied the arrangement of the documents, wanting to make sure that she left them as she'd found them, so she didn't raise any suspicions on Garrett's part. Then she picked up the report and moved to the window, using what light the moon offered to read the investigator's words.

  Afraid that she might be discovered, Claire hastily read the report, unable to believe what she was seeing. It couldn't be, she kept telling herself. Donald wasn't the kind of man to make his living so notoriously. When she reached the part that gave his address, Claire repeated the street name and number to herself several times. She was more determined than ever to seek out her brother and end her worries. Donald could explain all this, she was certain, and when he had, she'd find a way to ease herself out of the Nob Hill mansion without causing Grams any undue distress.

  Claire returned the report to the desk, making sure it appeared never to have left. She made her way to the door. When she was outside, she turned around, holding on to the cane, and returned the door to its former position, not completely closed and resting just an inch or so away from the brass latch.

  Garrett found her that way, as if she were reaching for the doorknob.

  “I thought you trusted me,” he said.

  Claire whipped around so quickly she almost lost her grip on the cane and fell. Breasts heaving, she stared at him. His jacket had been shed earlier in the evening and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. She could see the shadow of dark hair that covered his lower arms. It matched the thick carpet of hair on his chest, revealed by the unbuttoned state of his shirt.

  Claire was startled by the image he made. Standing in the dim light, Garrett looked rugged and virile, so unlike a banker and very much like a strong man, polished on the surface but strong and hard underneath. The kind of man who made his own path and lived by his own rules. The kind of man a woman found impossible to resist.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I assume you're looking for something,” Garrett said, stepping closer. He was holding an apple in his right hand and his expression said he wasn't pleased to find her downstairs in the middle of the night.

  Claire didn't bother denying the accusation. She'd been caught and now it was time to face the consequences. It might be easier if Garrett didn't look like some ancient god, towering over her with eyes like silver flames. “I thought..."

  “You thought you could sneak into my library and find out about your brother,” he finished for her. “What happened to the trust you proclaimed this evening? Has it vanished so quickly, or did you say what I wanted to hear instead of what you really feel?"

  Before Claire could respond, Garrett locked his hand around her elbow and pushed open the library door. He guided her inside, careful not to rush her so she didn't fall. She was tempted to fight him, but Claire knew she couldn't win. Tonight of all nights, she was vastly aware of Garrett's power as a man and her vulnerability as a woman.

  The room seemed darker than before and she could feel the night closing in on her. The heat of Garrett's hand seeped into her body as she allowed herself to be led to a chair. He took the cane and motioned for her to sit down.

  He stared down at her. Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders in a mass of honey brown curls. It gave her a wild, untamed look, stirring the desire Garrett had hoped to put to sleep for the night. How would she react if he lifted her out of the chair and carried her to the settee? Would she fight him? Or would she surrender to the fire of passion and the subtle shadows of the moonlight? The hunger inside Garrett grew with the erotic picture of Claire lying under him, her hair in disarray, her body open and wanting as he glided into her.

  “I'm sorry,” Claire said as she balanced her weight on the chair arms and eased down until she was sitting, looking up at Garrett like a wayward child about to be chastised for misbehaving. “It's just that I sensed you weren't being totally honest with me this evening."

  Garrett didn't refute the charge. Instead, he glanced at his desk. The papers seemed to be as he left them. Good. He'd caught Claire before she could read the report.

  “I
don't deny that I left out some of the more sordid details of Mr. Wilson's summation, but I did it with good reason. I want to make sure your brother is able to provide for you."

  “Donald doesn't have your wealth, but he's a hard worker. I'm sure once we've ... corrected our current arrangement, I'll be content living with my brother,” Claire defended her sibling. “I can find a job if necessary."

  “You deserve more,” Garrett said, speaking his mind.

  Claire misunderstood him. She thought he was belittling her brother's ability to provide a home for her. “Money isn't everything. It can't buy you the kind of contentment you get from a family, from being with someone who truly cares for you."

  Garrett didn't want Claire working in a dress shop or tutoring some merchant's children. He didn't want her living in some clapboard cottage with her brother, cooking meals and cleaning, with an occasional day away from the house to do the shopping. He wanted her living on Nob Hill, where he could see her every day. He wanted to see her smiling again, a genuine smile that reached her lovely eyes. He wanted to hold her at night, close to his body so he could feel her heart beating as she slept.

  Suddenly, Garrett wanted so many things, but most of all he wanted Claire. She was so beautiful, sitting there in the chair with her hair hanging over her shoulders, and her tongue nervously wetting her lips. He wanted to kiss that newly dampened mouth, to taste her so deeply, so thoroughly, that she couldn't deny what she felt for him. He wanted to hear her say that she loved him. He wanted her to moan the words in her passion, while she clawed at his back and begged him to satisfy her. He wanted to bury himself inside her warm, willing body until there was nothing but her scent and sound and heat surrounding him. He wanted. God, how he wanted.

  “We can talk about your future with your brother some other time,” Garrett said, coming away from the desk. “It's late. You should be in bed.” He didn't add that she should be in his bed.

  Claire tried to avoid his arms, but the chair didn't give her the freedom of movement she needed to keep from being scooped up and held close to Garrett's chest. As his arms tightened around her, she was forced to hold on to him and she could feel the muscular power of his body as he turned toward the library door. Her nostrils inhaled the tangy scent of his skin and she wanted to put her hands into the thick dark hair at the nape of his neck and feel its texture.

  A twitch of fear laced through her as she realized he was going to tuck her into bed. What if he kissed her good night? Could she resist him again? She doubted it and her body was sure of it. She could feel herself warming to his embrace, needing it like a thirsty plant needed life-giving rain.

  Garrett didn't hesitate as he climbed the steps. Weeks of wanting had finally come to an end and he knew that this was the night when he wouldn't be able to stop with kisses and a few limited caresses that teased his senses and drove him crazy with desire. Claire belonged to him. He wasn't entirely sure when she'd made the transition from hired employee to a woman he wanted more than his next breath, but she had. The realization was there, pounding in his brain and throbbing in his body, making him harder than he'd ever been in his entire life.

  Garrett nudged her bedroom door open and carried her inside. Libby had turned down the bed and starched white sheets gleamed in the moonlight.

  Garrett walked across the room and deposited Claire in the center of the feather mattress. She held her breath as he turned to retrace his steps, half afraid that he was going to leave her. When she heard the soft click of the lock, her fears took a new direction.

  A frisson that was both frightening and exciting tingled through her body. She couldn't move. Neither could she say a word as Garrett returned to the side of the bed and looked down at her. A disconcerting heat danced in her stomach, like the flames of a bonfire on a windy night, and she knew the yearning she saw in his eyes matched her own.

  “I want you to trust me,” Garrett said, easing his weight onto the bed. Claire rolled against his hip. “I want you to believe that I want what is best for you, regardless of our unorthodox arrangement."

  The impulse to tell him the truth, to expose her heart and thoughts touched Claire briefly, but it disappeared as Garrett reached out and caressed her cheek. Everything vanished, but the scalding touch of his hand. Never had Claire felt so helpless, so vulnerable. And yet at the same time, she felt as if she'd just discovered herself. The need to deny her feelings were gone. No longer could she look at this man and pretend that she didn't want him. She did. She had lain in bed night after night and dreamed of him, longing for his arms, his kisses, his velvet voice whispering in her ear.

  Garrett moved his hand from her cheek to the edge of her mouth. His fingertips traced the soft curve of her top lip, then the bottom one. Claire closed her eyes and felt the flame of desire take hold of her, burning her all the way to her soul.

  “You're so beautiful,” Garrett whispered huskily. “I want you, Claire."

  The words, spoken so bluntly, brought her eyes open. Garrett continued to watch her as his hand moved to her hair. His fingers combed through the tangles, bringing her head up so he could press his mouth lightly against her waiting one.

  “Let me have you, Claire,” he said, his mouth moving against her, his words a deep warm whisper that turned her need into desperation. “Let me give you the moon and stars."

  “I don't want the moon,” she said weakly. “I want you."

  Garrett's smile was arrogant as he brushed her hair away from her neck and placed his mouth against the pulse beating erratically under her smooth white skin. He kissed her gently at first, then more aggressively, sucking on the delicate flesh until she jerked in his arms.

  He raised his eyes to her. His dark gaze searched her face as his hands moved to the pearl buttons that held her robe together. They gave way under his deft fingers and Claire held her breath again. He eased the robe off her shoulders, then reached for the blue ribbons laced through the bodice of her gown. They, too, gave way and she could feel the air against her skin.

  “I'll go slow, sweetheart,” Garrett said as he kissed her cheek, then her jaw, and then her mouth. “I want to feel every inch of your sweet body and I want you to enjoy me touching you. I've dreamed about loving you like this, with those beautiful eyes watching me."

  His words made her feel unsettled, but she didn't protest his hands as they inched her nightclothes off her shoulders and down her arms.

  Garrett watched her face as he pushed her clothing down to her waist. She sat stiffly as if she expected him to hurt her, but he knew it was the fear of the unknown that kept her from relaxing. He'd meant it when he'd told her that he would go slow. He'd never made love to a virgin before, and he wanted Claire to enjoy it. He wanted to teach her the mysteries of passion, to explore them with her, and eventually yield to its all-consuming power.

  He noted the blush of color suffusing her cheeks and his eyes drifted down to where the cotton gown had fallen away to reveal soft white breasts crowned with dusky coral tips. She was as perfectly made as he'd imagined, high and round with sweet little nipples that were begging for his mouth. He wanted her and her body was telling him what she'd already confessed. She wanted him, too.

  His hand brushed over the taut fullness of her right breast, and Claire trembled. Then he buried his face in the thick tangle of her honey brown hair and lifted her against him. With one arm around her waist, he used his free hand to push the nightgown and robe down her legs and away. As he felt the silken softness of her body, he thought of the many times he'd ached to touch her and the many times he'd resisted the temptation. Finally, the waiting was over.

  Claire had never been naked in front of a man before and when Garrett pulled back to look at her, she reached for the robe he'd pushed to the far side of the bed.

  “You're beautiful,” he said, taking the robe from her trembling fingers and throwing it aside. It landed on the floor. “Let me look at you."

  The words were like a benediction. Reverently spoken,
they eased some of her fear. Then he kissed her. Claire went limp as he demanded more and more from the kiss, brushing his tongue into and around her mouth, his hands kneading her scalp, his body hard and male against her nakedness. Soft murmurings came from her throat, but Garrett drank them, the same way he was drinking her breath, her very will to resist him. The last thread of denial Claire had left was swept away by the enticing grandeur of Garrett's kisses. Soon, she was kissing him back with a passion that matched his own.

  Shamefully, Claire forgot her morals. She forgot everything but the searching texture of Garrett's hands as they moved up and down her arms, warming her until she was sure the bed would go up in flames. When he moved away to stand up and take off his shirt, Claire thought she'd die from the waiting. She longed to touch his skin, to run her fingers through the thick mat of hair that darkened his chest. His shirt joined her robe on the floor, and he was back in her arms again.

  Her shyness almost gone, she reached out to place a hesitant hand on his bare chest. Garrett groaned. “Yes, touch me, sweetheart. God, I've wanted your hands on me for so long I thought I was going to go mad."

  While Claire explored his upper body, Garrett studied her. She was close to perfect. Her legs were long and slender, her calves nicely rounded and as smooth as silk. Her breasts were voluptuous. Her waist narrowed before her hips flared out into womanly curves that threatened to steal his sanity. As her hands moved over and around his chest, Garrett slowly eased her onto her back. She stiffened for a moment, but his kiss took her anxiety away and she began to relax in his arms.

  His hand drifted over her concave stomach and he vowed to kiss that soft flesh, along with the rest of her. While his mouth pursued her senses, Garrett reached for the buttons on his trousers. He hadn't undressed completely, fearing that Claire's first sight of a naked, aroused man would be too much for her virginal sensibilities to overcome. Instead, Garrett took his time. His mouth moved from her swollen lips to the soft skin of her collarbone. His teeth nipped slightly and she moaned.