A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  “Stop yelling at me,” she snapped, then looked up to find Christopher Landauer smiling. “Excuse me,” she said, getting into the carriage as quickly as her cane would allow. “The man has no manners,” she said as she seated herself across from Garrett's partner. “No manners, at all."

  “And you have no common sense,” Garrett retorted, climbing in behind her. He sat down beside his friend. “Do you have any idea what can happen to a woman alone on these streets?"

  Christopher reached out the window, tapped the side of the carriage, and the driver pulled away from the sidewalk.

  Claire folded her hands in her lap and tried to look as if she strolled in Chinatown on a daily basis. “I find this part of the city fascinating,” she replied, offering him a serene smile. “The people are extremely interesting. And the colors. It's like walking through a circus."

  Christopher laughed. “That a girl,” he said. “Bluff him if you can."

  She hadn't expected to see Garrett under these circumstances. At the moment, he didn't look like a man in the market for a mistress. In fact, Claire would almost bet that Garrett would like nothing better than the satisfaction of strangling her on the spot. Grateful for once that Christopher was aware of her unorthodox arrangement with the banker, Claire lifted her chin and met Garrett's fiery gaze.

  “What did you expect me to do?” she asked. “I've been looking for my brother for months."

  “You read Hiram's report,” he said angrily. “You stole into my library, went through my desk, and read the damn report. Admit it. There's no other way you could have found your brother this quickly."

  Claire wanted to shout back that if she'd stolen into Garrett's library, he'd done worse by stealing her heart, but she didn't. Instead, she fired another salvo. “You were supposed to help me find my brother, not keep his whereabouts a secret."

  “This is getting interesting,” Christopher said, leaning back and folding his arms. “Please, go on. If you two keep shouting at each other, I might be able to discern why Garrett pulled me out of a business meeting, tossed me into a carriage, and demanded that I go to Chinatown with him. So far, the only thing I've been able to figure out, is that you"—he pointed at Claire—"aren't where you're supposed to be."

  “She's supposed to be at home,” Garrett said.

  “It's your home,” Claire snapped. “Not mine."

  Garrett had to grit his teeth to keep from pulling Claire out of her seat and into his arms. He wanted to kiss her combative attitude away. He wanted to prove to her, as well as to himself, that she belonged to him, not some wayward brother.

  “If your brother had proven to be the shining example of manhood you've led me to believe, then why were you walking alone. No man with any sense would let a woman wander about the streets like a lost puppy."

  “I wasn't lost,” Claire replied stiffly. “I was on my way to the trolley. And stop yelling at me."

  “I'm not yelling,” Garrett said, raising his voice with each word. “I'm trying to keep you from getting into more trouble than I've got time to get you out of."

  “Of all the...” Claire stammered, so angry she wanted to bash the handsome banker over the head with her cane. “You're my employer, not my keeper."

  “Don't overreact,” Christopher cut in. “Even a Chinaman knows a lady when he sees one, Garrett. Claire wasn't in any real danger. At least as long as the sun is up. After dark, things change in this part of the city.” He gave Claire a stern look. “I'm forced to agree with Garrett. I wouldn't suggest you call on your brother again without an escort, Miss Aldrich."

  “She damn well better not try,” Garrett said, sounding convincingly threatening.

  Knowing she was outnumbered, Claire sat back and stared out the window. When the carriage stopped in front of the Landauer Hotel, she was relieved. She wasn't up to fooling Grams into thinking that she'd taken a leisurely ride down the hill to do a little shopping.

  Garrett stepped out of the carriage, then turned to offer Claire his assistance. She took his hand begrudgingly. “We need to talk,” Garrett said, as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

  Claire looked at him. There was a fierce glow to his dark eyes and she knew she'd only witnessed the tip of his temper. He said nothing else until she was seated in the hotel's office. Christopher hadn't come upstairs with them. Claire knew he wanted to give her and Garrett the privacy their argument would require.

  Claire sat in the chair, admiring the beautiful Chinese carving displayed in a glass case behind Christopher's desk while Garrett poured himself a drink.

  Garrett walked to the window, overlooking Taylor Street, staring out at the city while he sipped his drink. Claire suspected he was trying to put a leash on his temper and in a small way she was grateful. On the other hand, she could use a fist-shaking, voice-raising argument. It might clear her mind of the tangled emotions she'd been carrying around for weeks.

  When Garrett finally turned around to confront her, Claire knew she was in for more than a small helping of his temper. He looked more furious now than when he'd found her in Chinatown. A chill of apprehension ran up and down Claire's spine as Garrett set his empty glass on the windowsill and walked toward her.

  “What did you tell your brother?” he asked in a chillingly calm voice.

  Claire blanched at the sound of his voice. She'd never heard him use that particular tone before. The taut lines of his face told Claire that he expected her to repeat every word she'd exchanged with her sibling. Once again, she was seeing the man she'd seen last night in the foyer outside the library. There was nothing about the hardness of Garrett's features that would make anyone think he was a fancy banker who cared only for ledgers and profit sheets. His eyes looked cold and his mouth was drawn into a taut line that said if Claire tried to weasel her way out of anything with less than the truth, he'd make good on his threat and put her over his knee.

  “I told him that I'd taken a job as a companion to Mrs. Theodora Monroe,” she said defensively. “There was no reason to tell him anything different."

  “Does he want you to live with him?"

  “No,” Claire said, wishing it didn't sting her pride so much to admit the truth. “He has other responsibilities at the moment. He..."

  Garrett's smile was cynical. “He already has a housekeeper,” he said. “Or didn't you have time to read all of Hiram's report. The young lady's name is Mae Ling and from what my investigator was able to find out, she's very young and very beautiful."

  “Don't mock me,” Claire said, shooting up from her chair. “Donald is my brother, not yours, and you have no right to keep me from seeing him."

  Before Claire could say another word, Garrett's hand darted out and grabbed her arm. He pulled her against him. “I have every right,” he said angrily. “Or have you forgotten what happened last night?"

  Garrett didn't give Claire time to say she hadn't forgotten. He buried his hands in her hair, dragging her head back, then he kissed her. A hard, punishing kiss that quickly changed to one of relief, then tenderness.

  For Garrett it was a primal reassurance that she was safe and back where she belonged—in his arms. He felt her struggling against his embrace, but the movements of her body only served to intensify what Garrett was feeling. He should release her, but he couldn't. When he'd seen her walking on Waverly Street, alone, anger had sluiced through his veins, followed by an innate need to gather her up and hold her close. The way he was holding her now.

  Something called out inside of Claire to fight Garrett, to keep him from thinking that he owned her body as well as her heart, but she couldn't. The sweet pleasure of his kiss robbed her of her anger. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back.

  Garrett's hands moved to her waist and he lifted her against him. A second later Claire felt herself being put on the desk. She shivered and moaned a throaty protest as he pushed her skirt up and her legs apart. His thigh came to rest between her legs and she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric
of his trousers and the thin silk of her drawers. She had vowed not to let him touch her again, to take their one night of passion and be satisfied with the memory. But she couldn't. No matter how much she willed her heart to say no, her body was saying yes.

  Garrett went on kissing her as his hands moved from her waist to her breasts. He thumbed her nipples, bringing them to an aching alertness. Claire pressed herself against his open palms. In turn, Garrett kneaded and squeezed and shaped her to fit his hand. The need to touch her, to possess her, stripped away his logic. Damn the woman.

  “I have every right,” Garrett growled, breaking the kiss and burying his face in the curve of Claire's throat. He kissed her neck. “You belong to me now."

  Claire squeezed her eyes shut as he flicked open the buttons of her jacket and reached inside to caress her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse. His fingers played with her nipples until they hardened and then he kissed her again. Helplessly Claire felt her mind going in one direction while her body followed Garrett's lead. She felt the unsettling return of the sensations that had wreaked havoc on her senses the previous night. The heat, the sound, the smell of Garrett invaded her mind, leaving nothing but the need for the man.

  Sanity returned with the sound of Christopher's voice in the hallway. Garrett broke the kiss and stepped back. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath while Claire's hands flew to the front of her jacket to right the damage he'd done.

  “Just a minute,” Garrett called out when his partner knocked on the door. He didn't apologize as he helped Claire down from the desk. In fact, he looked at her as if she'd started the argument and kissed him, instead of the other way around.

  Claire turned her face away from the door, confused over her feelings and angry that Garrett had put her in such an embarrassing situation. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, and she knew her mouth was swollen from his kisses.

  Garrett opened the door, standing between Claire and his friend. “Have Andy bring the carriage around. I want Claire taken home."

  Garrett knew his voice was betraying him and that Christopher would know the reason why. His gaze dared his friend to verbalize his thoughts.

  “Of course,” Christopher replied. “Then I think you and I should have a little chat. I can't help you with your problem in Chinatown, if I don't know what it is."

  Claire flinched inwardly at having her brother called a problem, but she didn't argue. She was too exhausted to think straight. She needed some time to sort things out. And some distance. The closer she was to Garrett, the more jumbled her thoughts became.

  Garrett escorted her downstairs and into the carriage. Claire barely had the energy to return Andy's smile as the young man greeted her.

  “Take Miss Aldrich straight home,” Garrett instructed. He didn't have to tell Claire that he expected her to stay there. The steel hard look on his face said it for him.

  “We'll talk this evening,” he added as he handed her the cane.

  Claire didn't answer him. She supposed she should feel some sort of satisfaction because he seemed concerned over her safety. Still, what should she expect. Garrett was a gentleman and even a gentleman showed concern for the woman he'd slept with the previous night. His temper and the way he'd kissed her in the hotel office weren't a confession of love and that's what it was going to take to keep Claire in the Nob Hill mansion.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Garrett returned to the hotel office. He walked to the whiskey decanters and poured himself another drink. He stared out the window, but all he saw was Claire's face, looking up at him with confusion and passion in her eyes. When he'd seen her walking in Chinatown, his heart had stopped for a cold second. When she'd argued with him in the carriage, he'd wanted to strangle her. A few minutes later, he'd wanted to lay her down on the desk and make love to her.

  “Correct me if I'm wrong,” Christopher said, breaking the silence, “but I think Miss Aldrich has advanced beyond the status of an employee."

  “Mind your own business,” Garrett told him. He lifted the glass to his mouth and downed the whiskey. It burned a path to his stomach and Garrett grimaced as he put down the glass and turned to face his friend.

  “That's going to be hard to do if you want my help,” Christopher replied. “What the hell is going on?"

  “Her brother is living in Chinatown,” Garrett said.

  “That much was easy enough to figure out,” his friend replied as he seated himself behind the desk. “What I don't understand is why you don't want Claire to see him. Is the fellow up to no good?"

  “He's working for Chen Loo."

  Christopher let out a long, low whistle. “That explains a lot of things."

  “What do you know about the Chinaman?” Garrett asked, knowing his friend was his best source of information.

  “Enough to know he's trouble. Chen Loo is Chinatown. He runs the city like an ancient warlord."

  “Have you done business with him before?"

  “If you want Chinese goods brought into the city, you have to do business with Chen Loo. No one on the docks is going to argue with a gang of paid assassins. If the Chinese know anything, it's how to kill a man."

  Garrett pushed his confrontation with Claire out of his mind and concentrated on her brother. “Do you know anyone close enough to Chen Loo to find out what Donald Aldrich does to earn a house in Chinatown?"

  Christopher nodded. “It may take a day or two. What if Claire decides to see her brother again?"

  “She won't,” Garrett said over his shoulder. He reached for the doorknob. “I'll lock her in the attic if necessary."

  The sound of his friend's laughter followed him down the steps.

  Knowing he needed some time to cool his temper, and his ardor, Garrett went to the bank. He spent the balance of the day reading correspondences, signing loan contracts, and watching the clock on his office wall slowly tick away the minutes until he could see Claire again.

  When Garrett walked through the door of his home he received a short request from Mrs. Smalley. His grandmother was waiting in the front parlor.

  “Where's Claire?” he asked.

  “Upstairs resting,” the housekeeper told him, then frowned. “She went into town this morning. Libby tried to talk her out of it, but Miss Aldrich insisted that she had cabin fever. I'm afraid she ventured out of the house too soon. When she returned, she said her ankle was paining her and she went right upstairs. I was about to go up and ask if she wanted her dinner on a tray."

  “I'll take it up to her after I've seen my grandmother,” Garrett informed the housekeeper.

  Grams set aside a book of poetry as Garrett walked into the parlor. Her temper had cooled along with his and she greeted him with a welcoming smile. “I assume you know that Claire went into the city this morning."

  “I know,” Garrett said. “I found her and sent her home."

  “I thought as much,” Grams said. “She didn't look very happy."

  Garrett's bland expression turned into a mild frown. “I scolded her for leaving the house too soon."

  Grams laughed. “Scolded. I doubt that, knowing your temper.” She gave him a pensive look. “Your display of concern may have been too severe. Especially on the heels of what happened here last night. Claire is a very sensitive young lady."

  “She has to learn that I won't tolerate her putting herself at risk,” Garrett said, justifying his reaction. “And I don't want her leaving this house again until the cane is put aside completely and Dr. Baldwin assures me that her ankle is healed."

  “I can't disagree,” Grams told him, “but you can't lock her in her room. She's much too old for that."

  “Perhaps,” Garrett replied.

  His grandmother's laughter was a surprise. “You remind me more and more of your grandfather,” she said. “And in many ways, Claire reminds me of myself. I wasn't always an agreeable young lady, you know."

  Garrett smiled for the first time that day. “I can imagine,” he teased. “In fact
, if my grandfather was alive, I'm sure he'd have an endless repertoire of stories about your wayward youth."

  “Perhaps.” Grams mimicked his previous statement. “But I'm the only one who knows them now, and I'm not sharing. You'll have to muddle through this one all by yourself."

  Garrett wasn't used to muddling through things. He liked a certain order to his life, a certain predictability. He was a banker, a man of numbers. Numbers made sense. Two and two were always four. Unfortunately, he couldn't apply the same logic to the lady upstairs.

  Mrs. Smalley tapped on the parlor door, stuck her head inside, and told Garrett that Claire's dinner tray was ready.

  “Don't scold her again,” Grams cautioned him.

  “I'll behave myself,” Garrett assured her, knowing he wasn't going to have an easy time keeping the promise. Claire had a way of pricking his temper and there was a lot to be settled before he'd feel comfortable leaving her to her own devices again.

  Garrett walked into Claire's room a few minutes later to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her ankle and frowning as if the expression could cure the inconvenient ailment.

  “If you hadn't trekked all over the city this morning, your ankle wouldn't be hurting you now,” he said, placing the dinner tray on the vanity table. “I've brought you dinner."

  Claire gave him a fierce scowl, saying nothing.

  Garrett smiled, walked to the door, and closed it. “Go ahead, say whatever's on your mind. Everyone is downstairs, they won't hear you unless you scream."

  “I don't want to scream,” Claire said. “I want to get out of this house. I'm through play-acting."

  “Are you?” Garrett mused in a dangerously low voice.

  Wishing she could stand up and shout at the top of her lungs, Claire settled for the next best thing. She pushed herself back against the feather pillows, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave the banker a defiant stare. “Yes, I am. I adore your grandmother, but you're going to have to find another way to keep her content."