The door opened, and the stunned surprise John felt registered immediately on his face.
Leslie gave him a brittle smile. "If I'm going to face the consequences, I'm going to face them in style."
He whistled. She had on a flame orange silk dress with a high rolled collar. The cut was startlingly simple, but absolutely stunning.
John shook his head when she turned around to pull the door shut behind him. The entire back was cut away. It was not a dress for a shy reserved woman—but then, there was something about her tonight that was anything but shy and reserved. She looked spectacular...and she also looked very determined.
"I didn't think you'd feel up to the banquet."
"Oh, I feel up to it."
John scrutinized her face. There was a tone in her voice that made him slightly suspicious and definitely uneasy.
"There will probably be a horde of reporters downstairs," he cautioned. "They become very tenacious about a story like this."
"I realize that." She started walking down the corridor. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
They rode in silence down to the reception area. The elevator stopped, and before the doors opened, Leslie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was gathering her resolve around her like a suit of armor.
Steve was standing in the foyer, talking to a group of men. He glanced up and his whole body stiffened when he saw Leslie there with John. Excusing himself, he left the group and came striding toward them, anger flashing in his eyes.
"I don't think it was very wise for you to bring her down," he snapped at John.
John gave him a level stare. "I didn't bring her down," he responded pointedly.
Leslie ignored their conversation as she studied the people milling about in the reception area. "How long until dinner?" she asked in a tightly controlled voice.
John and Steve exchanged troubled looks, then John answered. "Not for another hour. They always have cocktails first—it gives the delegates an opportunity to mingle."
"Then we'd better mingle, hadn't we?"
As time progressed, John's expression became more and more concerned. This was a new Leslie. She was poised and charming, and an aura of tenacity radiated from her. She was up to something, but what? She reminded him of L.J. when he was determined to have his own way. The poise and the charm were simply a smoke screen for single-mindedness.
He wasn't the only one who was feeling uneasy. Steve kept watching Leslie through hooded eyes, his face enigmatic. But there was a tension in him, as though he was poised for action.
Leslie didn't allow John's very obvious concern to penetrate her veneer of control. Gordon Donner had called her again just before she'd come down, and now she was secure in knowing that she had the weapons at her disposal to stop Luther once and for all.
Before long a member of the press spotted her among the crowd; after that it was like iron filings clustering around a powerful magnet. In a flash she was hemmed in by reporters, and the questions began to fly.
A cold inflexibility grew in her, giving her a strength she hadn't known she possessed. Not one person there could have guessed what a terrifying ordeal it was for her. She answered each question with a calmness that belied the acute nervousness churning inside her.
They hammered at her with rapid-fire queries for some time before she was able to manipulate the tenor of the interview. She smiled a tight little smile when one reporter finally asked the question she was waiting to hear.
"Miss Kairns, is it true that Kaidon Industries became involved with Ramco because of the prospects of a big find?"
Now, thought Leslie with grim amusement, I have them aimed in the direction I want them to go. She neatly skirted the issue of Redwillow by throwing them a more tempting bone. "Naturally any company exploring for petroleum has hopes for a big find, but my involvement with Ramco really stems back to my father. He was one of the original owners when Ramco started its operations a number of years ago."
This was news and there was a babble of questions, drowned out by one reporter who raised his voice above the clamor. "Your existence was a very well-kept secret, Miss Kairns, and we haven't been able to find out much about you. For instance, who was your father?''
"L.J. Owens. Unfortunately, he was killed in a rig mishap before I was born."
"You were raised by your grandfather?"
"My grandfather had a tremendous impact on my life, but I lived with my mother and stepfather."
"And who are they?"
"My mother," explained Leslie with dry amusement in her voice, "is, of course, my grandfather's daughter." There was a ripple of laughter and then she continued, "My stepfather is Luther Denver from Denver Oil."
More big news. She was giving them a headline story, and the newsmen were scrambling for more.
"Is Kaidon Industries involved in any way with Denver Oil?''
There was an unflinching purposefulness in her response. "Not yet." Then her tone softened, and all the mesmerizing charm she had displayed throughout the entire interview was back as she smiled. "Now, gentlemen, would you please excuse me?"
There was something about how she said it that made every reporter there realize the interview was over, and that they wouldn't get another word out of her no matter how much they pressed her. She smiled again, then with regal dignity walked away from the cluster of microphones. The only indication of the tremendous strain she was under was her pallor.
Steve caught her roughly by the arm just as she entered the banquet hall. "You've made your point, Leslie. Now I want you to get the hell out of here. I'll deal with Luther Denver."
She looked up at him, her face drawn and very white. "You accused me once of running out on my responsibilities. Well, I'm not running anymore." With an abrupt, desperate movement she jerked her arm free of his grasp. "Just leave me alone, Steve. For God's sake, leave me alone." Her voice broke treacherously and she whirled away, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
It took every ounce of willpower she had to compose herself as she walked away from him, fighting a battle to suppress the panic that was threatening to demolish her control. She had to hang on for just a while longer
"You look like you could use this." Leslie turned to find John McRory standing beside her, a drink in his hand.
She took the glass of amber liquid from him, then smiled ruefully. "Am I that readable?"
He took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled slowly as he solemnly studied her through the haze of smoke. Finally he shook his head, a touch of irony in his smile. "No, you aren't that readable—not anymore. In fact, I'm beginning to realize that you aren't even predictable." His face sobered and his voice was very earnest. "Don't tangle with him, Les."
She looked away and gave a derisive little laugh. "I think it's time we stopped playing games."
John sighed heavily. "Yes, I suppose it is." There was a heavy silence, then John rested his hand on the small of her back. "Let's go find a table," he suggested.
Leslie looked down as she ran her finger pensively around the rim of her glass. Then she glanced up at him, her expression deceptively passive. "Thank you, but no. I'm planning on dining with my stepfather."
Sucking in his breath sharply, John stared at her for a moment. Very slowly he grinned, a look of admiration dawning in his eyes. "Would you mind if I tagged along?"
"Not at all."
Actually, it was far easier than Leslie anticipated; it just took a little audacity. Behaving as though her presence was expected, she and John joined the small group of men to whom Luther was talking.
She waited for a lull in the conversation, then spoke with relaxed familiarity. "Hello, Luther. Didn't mother come with you?" It was such a commonplace question that it caught Luther completely off guard.
Dumbfounded, he stared at her for a split second; then his features became rigid as he answered stiffly, "No, she didn't."
"Denver, you sly dog," interjected the man standing beside
him. "If I hadn't eavesdropped on the press session with this little lady, I still wouldn't have known she was your daughter."
Luther's cheek twitched as his hand tightened around the drink he was holding. "She's my stepdaughter," he corrected, his voice cool.
The man acted as though he hadn't heard Luther as he addressed Leslie. "You'll just have to join us for dinner, young lady, and give us the scoop on old Luther here."
Leslie felt a spurt of adrenaline tingle through her as she gave him an engaging smile. "Well, thank you very much. I'd like that." Wouldn't I just love, she thought wryly, to give you the real scoop on old Luther here.
The man stretched his hand toward her. "The name is George Hartley—Hartley Drilling."
With a smile glued on like wallpaper, Leslie shook his hand, then included John. "This is John Mc-Rory, president of Ramco Exploration." The two men shook hands; then Hartley introduced them to the other men.
Sensing that she had Luther effectively cornered, she pressed her advantage. "You remember John, don't you, Luther? I believe you were in South America together, weren't you?"
His face was like white granite as he snapped coldly, "Yes, we were." For an instant Leslie expected him to crush the glass he held in his hand.
They were just about to sit down at the table when Steve joined them. John introduced him to the other four men, and Leslie felt her stomach contract into a hard knot when Steve pulled out her chair for her, then sat down beside her. His closeness was so painfully unsettling that she had the overwhelming desire to bolt. Forcing herself to remain seated, she tried to cope with the choking claustrophobia that was pressing down on her. She felt as though she were caught in a trap, and the presence of Steve, his face looking like it had been hacked out of stone, nearly shattered her resolve. He was there because he was suspicious of her motives, because he didn't trust her.
She swallowed, then stiffened her back. Somehow she had to dredge up the strength to get through this next hour. Somehow.
As she'd expected, the situation turned out to be a taxing experience. The entire conversation during dinner focused on the granddaughter of the very wealthy, powerful Mac Kairns. Hartley made certain that the others became aware of who Leslie was and how vast a fortune she commanded. She felt as though her life was like a pile of garments on a rummage-sale table—pawed through, mauled over, and left crumpled and disorderly after it had been exposed to curious, probing eyes. It was a frightening sensation, but she managed to restrain her fear and present the image of a poised and confident young businesswoman. She had to—she couldn't falter now.
Leslie was well aware that Luther's fury was becoming volcanic as she answered an endless string of questions. Slowly she was backing him into a corner and he knew it, and she experienced a certain amount of grim satisfaction. Yet she almost had to admire the man—he had an iron control that was unreachable, and a cunning mind. He would not go down without a battle.
"Well," said George Hartley as he set down his empty wineglass. "I must confess I envy you, John. For an exploration company that has the financial resources you do, the sky's the limit right now. It takes big bucks to go wildcatting."
John chuckled. "I won't argue that point, believe me. Our financial arrangement with Kaidon kept us on our feet."
"Yes," reiterated Hartley, "you're a damned lucky man to have a huge corporation like Kaidon behind you."
John glanced at Leslie, a look of approval in his eyes. "Well, George, that's true, but I think our luck really peaked when we hired Leslie. Something she didn't tell you was that she's our project geologist. This girl is a natural finder, and there aren't many of those around. You can have all the financing in the world behind you, but unless you produce, it isn't worth a damn."
"So," said one of the other men, his eyes gleaming with speculation, "I take it you're onto something big?"
"Possibly."
"I don't suppose there's a chance in hell that you'd let us in on the secret?"
"Not a chance," laughed John.
Hartley looked at Luther, a droll grin on his face. "Heavens, man, why didn't you snap her up? Or did you think we'd all say you were after her money?'' There was a ripple of laughter that turned into embarrassed silence when Luther didn't respond.
"I did work for Luther for two years before I went to Ramco. We both felt it would be best if I left."
There was an awkward lull and George, realizing that something was going on that he didn't grasp, tried to shift the conversation to a safer topic.
"Kaidon has never been involved in the petroleum industry before, has it?"
A feeling of anticipation slithered down Leslie's spine. The trap was being set; now all she had to do was bait it. "No. There are several mining companies within the corporate structure, but up until now the petroleum industry has been overlooked. We're reevaluating our potential in this area now, though."
George Hartley grinned knowingly. "In other words, you're ready to jump in with both feet."
"As a matter of fact, Gordon Donner and I have been considering just such a possibility. There is an Alberta-based company that we're interested in." Leslie paused, then continued, "Gordon was discussing a possible merger with a number of the major stockholders today. He phoned me with the results of those discussions just before I came down this evening. They're very anxious to do business with him, especially since he made them a very attractive offer."
Leslie felt Steve grow tense, his eyes riveted on her as the next question came. "Why is this company so attractive to Kaidon?"
"It isn't attractive," responded Leslie, her voice very controlled. She deliberately fixed her eyes on Luther, her message to him acutely clear. "The president of the company is trying to manipulate one of our other interests. Since the man refused to be rational, it seems logical to simply eliminate the problem."
The reaction around the table was electric, but Leslie was isolated from it. Her whole attention focused on her stepfather. Luther's body jerked as the implication of her statement hit home. He stared at her, his jaw tightening, his hands doubled into fists, and an intense loathing burned in his eyes.
"Is the takeover imminent?'' questioned one of the men.
Leslie's eyes never left Luther's face. "That really depends on the disposition of one man and what he decides to do."
She laid her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. "It's been a very long day. Would you excuse me, please?"
With her heart racing and her hands clammy, Leslie left by the side door. There was another small reception area outside the banquet room, which had large windows overlooking the street below. She walked over to them, but her attention was welded on the door behind her. She took a deep breath and braced herself as it swung open and Luther came toward her, his face menacing.
"What in hell do you think your doing? You'll never get away with a takeover of Denver Oil."
"But I can—and I will if you don't call off your dogs, Luther."
He faced her, his voice seething with fury. "You," he sneered maliciously, "don't know what in hell you're talking about."
Her voice was quiet, but it had a ring of finality to it that was chilling. "Try me, Luther—just try me," she challenged, her eyes flashing. "If you don't back off, and back off now, I'll use every cent I have to bring you down. I'll break you, Luther— I'll wipe you out. And you know I have the resources to do it."
He took a step toward her, crazed with rage, his face contorted. "What makes you think you can call the shots? Who in hell do you think you are, you sniveling little bastard?"
She never moved, she never flinched, but drove the last barb home with a calm icy voice. "I'm my father's child and don't you forget it."
The taunt was too much for Luther, and he slapped her across the face, then caught her with a brutal backhand. He never had the chance to strike her the third time, for he was suddenly spun around by a hand that had his shoulder in an iron grip. A hard right hook to Luther's jaw sent him sprawling. Steve Mc
Rory yanked him to his feet, and Leslie realized that he was going to hit him again.
She caught his arm and held it. "Don't—he isn't worth it." Her head was still ringing from Luther's blows, and she could taste blood in her mouth, but her rigid composure protected her like a shield as she gazed at her stepfather. "Remember what I said, Luther. I meant every word." With that she turned and walked away.
She was nearly at the elevators when Steve called her name. That shattered the dam of her emotions, and all the fear, hurt and unhappiness came boiling through, stripping away her defenses. She sprinted toward the elevator, a panicky phrase running through her head. You have your pound of flesh, Steve McRory. My God, you have your pound of flesh!
She felt his fingertips brush her shoulder, and with the desperation of a hunted animal she managed to squeeze through the closing door of an elevator. For one brief terrifying instant, she thought the door would reopen, but it stayed closed. As the elevator rose with agonizing slowness, Leslie felt the panic rising in her.
Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest, the pulse echoing in her head, as she slammed the door to her room behind her and, with fumbling fingers, set the dead bolt. Then she closed her eyes and leaned weakly against the door, her breathing raw and labored. She was safe—for a few hours, she was safe. No one could reach her here.
She was frozen with a new wave of fear when she heard footsteps outside her door, and she jumped away as though she had been scalded when someone tried the doorknob.
"Leslie, let me in."
She backed into the room, her eyes widening as though she expected Steve to come bursting through. As he called out to her again, she covered her ears with her hands. Her legs were no longer able to support her, and she collapsed on the bed and began to shake.
She jumped when the phone jangled shrilly by her elbow, and without thinking, she picked up the receiver. Staring at it dully, she was about to hang it up when she recognized John's voice vibrating hollowly from the instrument.
Hold Back The Dawn Page 26
