He thought again of Colleen and the deep burning in her eyes when she spoke of her love for Sam. Gideon wondered what it felt like to be loved so deeply, so completely. He’d thought he’d been loved like that once…with Anne. But her love had been a lie. He wondered if Colleen’s was a lie, as well.
For just a moment he remembered the sweet scent of Colleen’s perfume, the warmth of her smile as she’d sat across the table from him in the diner. He’d been irritated at having to wait so long in her office before she saw him, but knew he would have been even more irritated had she ushered him right in ahead of the clients who needed her help. Again he found himself wondering about the dynamics in her relationship to Sam. Had the wealthy entrepreneur taken advantage of her innocence and turned her sensible head with expensive gifts? Or had the sexy social worker set her sights on the rich Sam Baker with the relentlessness of a predator?
He drained the beer can and crushed it, angry at himself and his thoughts. He had work to do. Why was he wasting time wondering about such nonsense as love and Colleen Jensen? Drawing his attention to the papers, he shoved all other thoughts out of his mind.
He’d been reading and taking notes for about an hour when he picked up one of the photocopies on the bottom of the pile. It was from the society pages. A grainy picture of Joseph Baker and his four children attending a charity ball. A handsome family, he thought as he focused on the son. Sam. Tall, with dark hair and strong features, Sam Baker was a handsome young man.
Gideon’s gaze shifted to his sisters, Carolyn, Bonnie and Colleen. The blood drained from his face as he stared at the image of Colleen Baker. The heartshaped face, the curly dark hair, the smiling eyes… there was absolutely no mistake. Colleen Jensen wasn’t Sam Baker’s lover. She was his sister.
The front legs of his chair slammed to the floor with a bang as he continued to stare at the photo of Colleen Jensen Baker. Why had she lied? God, he felt like such a fool. He’d spent so much time wondering if Colleen was a possible gold digger, and all the time she’d owned the mine.
What in the hell was going on beneath those pretty curls atop her head? Why in the hell had she lied? He grabbed his car keys from the table. That’s just what he intended to find out.
It took him only minutes to drive to Colleen’s duplex. He was disappointed to find her car not there. No problem. He would wait. As long as it took, he would be there when she got home.
Pulling a stick of licorice from the package in the glove box, he stared at the modest home. Red brick with painted shutters to match, the duplex was attractive but certainly nothing special.
Why was Colleen Baker living here in this unassuming duplex when she could afford anything she wanted? Why the job as a social worker when she probably had enough money to last if she didn’t work a day for the rest of her life? Was this some sort of a game? Princess playing pauper for a while? And where exactly did he fit into this charade?
“I’m about to find out,” he murmured as he spied her car pulling into the driveway behind him. He threw the last of the licorice stick out the window, then got out of his car, self-righteous anger propelling him toward her. And to think he’d felt guilty about charging the poor little social worker his usual fee.
“What a surprise,” she said as she got out of her car. “You have something for me already?” She looked at him hopefully.
For a moment Gideon’s anger was swept away beneath the beauty of the vision of the setting sun painting her features in vibrant golden tones. She’d shed the suit jacket she’d worn earlier in the day, giving him full view of the thrust of her breasts against the feminine white blouse. An ember of heat uncoiled in his stomach, reigniting the anger that had brought him here. “We need to talk.” He gestured toward the house.
“Maybe we should talk right here,” she said, eyeing him uncomfortably. She shifted from foot to foot, obviously aware of his anger.
“No problem. I can quit this assignment just as easily out here as I can inside, Ms. Baker.”
Her eyes flared at the name, then filled with a weary resignation. She threaded her fingers through her hair, causing the curls to dance provocatively. “I guess we’d better go inside,” she said and slammed her car door. “If my blood is about to be spilled, I don’t want it ruining Elda’s flowers.”
He had to hand it to her, she’d lied, she’d been caught, but she obviously wasn’t ashamed. “I think you owe me an explanation,” he said.
“I do.” She leaned against her car door, suddenly looking tired. “And I suppose you’ll reconsider the case if I agree to a bigger fee. Isn’t that the way it works?” There was a touch of bitterness in her tone. “You initially gave me the fee for an ordinary person, but now that you know I’m a Baker, and worth a lot of money, the fee becomes higher?”
He looked at her in surprise. “Is that what you’ve experienced?”
She nodded. “With three different private investigators. They quoted me a fee, then as our conversation continued and they realized I was a Baker, the price suddenly tripled.” She smiled humorlessly. “I decided to try a different approach with you.”
“Did you really believe I wouldn’t find out?” Gideon asked.
“I figured you’d find out sooner or later. I just hoped it would be later.” She shoved away from the car and motioned for him to follow her. “Come on in. Perhaps I can work up the energy to apologize over a cup of coffee.”
He followed her to the front door, wondering how she had managed to make him feel like he was the one who needed to apologize on behalf of his profession. How had she managed so easily to defuse his anger?
She unlocked the front door and pushed it open. She took a step inside, then stopped abruptly, causing Gideon to bump hard into her back. “Oh, God,” she said softly.
“What? What’s wrong?” Gideon asked.
“Somebody has been here.” She stepped aside and sagged against the doorframe, allowing Gideon to move around her.
The living room was in shambles. Books had been pulled from shelves, couch cushions thrown from the sofa, the contents of the desk drawers had been emptied onto the floor. “Stay here,” Gideon commanded.
It took him only minutes to check the other rooms and discern the intruder was no longer in the duplex. Whoever had wreaked the havoc was gone. He returned to where Colleen still stood at the door, apparently frozen by the scene before her.
He touched her arm softly. “You’d better call the police.”
“Would you do it for me? I…I don’t feel very well.” She stumbled to a rocking chair and sank down into it, her gaze skipping and jumping around the room in stunned disbelief.
Gideon nodded and picked up the phone. It took him only a moment to call the appropriate station and report the break-in. The officer taking the report promised a responding unit would be by as soon as possible.
Gideon frowned as he hung up the receiver. He could have sworn he heard several clicks that didn’t belong on the line.
“Are they sending somebody?” Colleen asked.
He looked at her sympathetically, noting the paleness of her face, the slight tremble of her hand as she pushed an errant strand of her hair from her forehead. From years of police work, he knew well the shock, the horror, the feelings of violation that accompanied a break-in. “Officers should be here soon.”
He walked around the living room, careful not to touch anything, but assessing, cataloguing his impressions. “Can you tell by just looking around if anything is missing?” he asked.
Her gaze moved slowly around the room, and he noted that the color was returning to her face. “No…nothing seems to be missing.” She frowned and looked at him. “This isn’t an ordinary burglary, is it? I mean, whoever broke in here left the television, the VCR and the stereo unit. If it was just a robbery, wouldn’t those things be gone?”
“It looks to me like somebody was searching for something,” Gideon said thoughtfully.
“But what could anyone be looking for?” she asked
.
He smiled ruefully. “I was kind of hoping you’d know the answer to that.” He could see she was still deeply shaken. “You didn’t somehow orchestrate this because you knew I was coming over to yell at you, did you?”
She smiled. It wasn’t a full smile, but it was enough to assure Gideon that she was really all right. “I have a feeling this has only postponed your yelling at me.”
He didn’t have a chance to reply, for at that moment officers appeared at the door.
The next couple of hours were a blur for Colleen. First there was the horror of walking in on the scene, followed by questions from the police. More than anything there was a palpable tension between Gideon and the responding officers, a tension she didn’t understand.
She was almost relieved when the officers finished their report and left, although there remained a horrifying fear as she surveyed her violated home.
This had been her nest, her personal piece of the earth where she felt safe and secure, surrounded by the things she loved. Now the peace and the serenity were tainted, destroyed.
“I can’t believe this was done by wayward kids,” she said, repeating what the police officers had suspected as she placed books on the shelves.
“I agree,” Gideon replied, his expression grim as he put the cushions on the sofa, then sat down. “Look, it’s going to take you all night to get this place in shape so you can sleep, and you’re already exhausted. Why don’t you stay at my houseboat for the night, then take the day tomorrow to clean up here?”
Colleen hesitated. The idea of staying at Gideon’s place wasn’t particularly appealing, but she definitely liked it better than remaining here for the rest of the night. She knew sleep would be impossible if she stayed here. The knowledge that somebody had easily picked the lock of her back door once this evening and could just as easily do it again would keep sleep at bay.
She would feel safer at Gideon’s, and at the moment that’s all she wanted. Besides, he was right. She was exhausted. “I’ll just get a few things together.” She went into the bedroom, where her dresser drawers had been emptied onto the bed and the contents of her jewelry box were scattered in the middle of the bedspread.
As she packed a bag, she wondered for the hundredth time who had been here, looking through her things, seeking something specific.
When she came out of the bedroom, Gideon was waiting by the front door, his face an inscrutable mask. “Ready?”
She nodded, wondering briefly if she was making a mistake. She really knew nothing about Gideon, but oddly enough she trusted him. “You aren’t going to yell at me tonight, are you?” she asked, suddenly remembering what had brought him to her house in the first place.
A whisper of a smile curved his lips. “I think I can hold off until tomorrow, but there are some more questions I’d like to ask you.”
A few minutes later Colleen sat in the passenger side of Gideon’s car. They had decided to leave Colleen’s car parked in the driveway. Gideon promised he would take her to work the next morning, then home afterward. She had insisted she couldn’t take the day off, knew there were just too many people who depended on her being in the office.
“Before you go back to your place tomorrow, I want a friend of mine to go in and sweep it for bugs,” Gideon said as they drove toward the marina.
Colleen stared at him in surprise. “I don’t have a bug problem. Maybe an occasional spider.”
He laughed. “Not that kind of bug. Electronic equipment, listening devices. When I used your phone I heard something that sounded like a wiretap.”
“You’re kidding! Why on earth would anyone want to spy on me?”
“I was hoping you could answer that.” He cast her a sardonic look. “Maybe you have a few more little secrets you’ve forgotten to mention?”
Colleen flushed. “You promised you wouldn’t yell tonight.”
“I’m not yelling, I’m merely asking,” he countered. “If I’m going to help you figure this all out, I need to know everything.”
“I’ve told you everything,” Colleen replied. “Well, maybe not quite everything,” she added. She jumped as Gideon muttered an oath and slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel.
“Hand me a stick of licorice out of the glove box,” he commanded. “Antismoking therapy,” he explained as he took the candy from her and stuck it into the side of his mouth. “Now, tell me everything that you’ve left out.”
Colleen sighed. “I’ve just had the feeling since Sam disappeared that I’m being watched, followed.” She frowned and rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. “At first I figured it was the police. They know Sam and I are close, and maybe they assumed he’d contact me in some way.” She shivered, remembering those days and weeks following her father’s death and Sam’s disappearance.
“It’s possible the police were watching you after the murder. But they don’t have the manpower to continue that kind of surveillance for months on end, except perhaps on Sam’s house.”
She nodded. “I know they’re still watching his house. Julienne, Sam’s wife, told me.” She hesitated a moment, staring at her hands folded in her lap. “I also think Sam was at my place last week.” She winced as Gideon expelled another colorful curse.
“What makes you think so?” he finally asked, his fingers white as they gripped the steering wheel. She guessed he was probably imagining the wheel as her neck.
“Just a feeling. I got home from work and knew somebody had been in the house. Nothing had been disturbed, but I knew somebody had been there. I just had the feeling it might have been Sam. I thought I smelled his cologne. I know it sounds crazy.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Now I’m not so sure. It could have been anyone.”
“And you didn’t think that was important enough to tell me?” He shook his head. “You people positively amaze me,” he finally said, throwing the remainder of his licorice stick out the car window, as if she’d made the taste go bad.
“You people?”
“The rich, the elite, the ones who think the rules are made for everyone else.” The rancor in his tone momentarily stole her breath away. “You manipulate people’s lives, tell half-truths, write your own ticket to whatever serves your purpose.” He drew in a deep breath and expelled it as a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m out of line.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed coolly. “You know nothing about me, and I resent your characterization. I haven’t exactly gotten a great impression of private investigators, but I’m willing to withhold judgment on you for the time being.”
“I told you before, I really don’t care what you or anyone else thinks of me,” he returned.
“That’s probably the only sentiment we share,” she replied.
For the remainder of the drive to the houseboat they didn’t speak. It was a tense silence, filled with unanswered questions and the residual ashes of mistrust.
She glanced sideways, noting the taut line of his jaw, his tightly compressed lips. It was obvious he didn’t trust her, and she couldn’t blame him for that. She hadn’t been exactly stellar in the truth department. But she’d had a lifetime of learning to protect herself when it came to her family background and status. The one time she’d let down her guard, her heart had been ripped in two.
She realized now she’d been foolish to think Gideon wouldn’t find out she wasn’t Sam’s lover. She should have been truthful with him from the very beginning. The important thing was that he find Sam. Nothing else mattered. Not his opinion of her, and certainly not her opinion of him.
She started as the car came to a halt, then realized they had reached the marina. “I’ll get your bag,” he said as they got out of the car. He reached in the back seat and grabbed the small overnight suitcase she’d brought with her.
Following him down the ramp that led to his houseboat, Colleen wondered why she had so easily agreed to stay here for the night. Almost immediately the answer came to her. She was afraid. The possibility that somebody might be spying on
her, watching her or eavesdropping on all her conversations filled her with horror. If it wasn’t the police, then who? And what did they want from her?
No, there was no way she wanted to stay at her house for the night. A motel room held little appeal. She didn’t want to be alone.
A sudden bitterness welled up in the back of her throat. She was a Baker, heiress to a fortune, and yet she was spending the night with a stranger, a man she wasn’t even sure she liked, because she didn’t want to be alone…and there was nobody else she could turn to.
“It’s not exactly the Plaza, but it’s home,” Gideon said as he pushed open the door and ushered her inside.
“Looks like you’ve cleaned some since I was here,” she observed, grateful that the interior smelled of pine cleaner and lemon polish rather than stale beer and old food.
“I’ll just change the sheets on the bed,” he said.
“Please, don’t bother. I can sleep right here.” She gestured to the sofa.
His dark eyebrows rose mockingly. “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m not a gentleman.”
“Too late. I knew you weren’t a gentleman when you ate my cinnamon knot.”
“Aren’t you a little nervous about spending the night with a man who readily admits to being no gentleman?” He moved closer to her, bringing with him the distinctive scent she found so provocative.
She stepped back from him, her eyes widening as she realized again she knew nothing about this man. “Certainly I’m not nervous,” she answered with a touch of bravado. She set her suitcase on the sofa. “I’m sure you realize if you don’t act like a gentleman tonight, then you won’t have my case to work on tomorrow.”
His gaze remained on her, dark and enigmatic. “Perhaps by tomorrow morning I won’t want your case.”
“This is a ridiculous conversation,” Colleen finally said. She swiped a hand through her hair, exhausted and confused not only by the events of the night but by his vague innuendos, as well.
An Impromptu Proposal Page 5
