She clutched it obediently, tucking it beneath her arms, not realizing how provocative the pose was.
Donovan's face was set in harsh lines, his blue eyes burning with flames not yet subsided. “I've got appointments and meetings set up all day and most of the evening,” he said grimly, his gaze drawn compulsively to the high curves of her breasts beneath the towel. “So you have another reprieve. It's your last one, Brenna, and for only twenty-four hours.” He lifted his hand as if to ward off her protests and arguments, though, in truth, she was not saying a word, just gazing at him with wide, luminous eyes.
“I can't help it if you're not ready, or if you want more time,” he said harshly. “I've waited long enough.” He turned on his heel, and strode away toward the house, aggressiveness and belligerence in every step.
Brenna settled back on the recliner, still clutching the towel and gazed after him, a loving amusement in her eyes and the deliciously contented smile of a cat who'd just been given the deed to the dairy.
nine
“I'LL BE BACK BEFORE FIVE,” DORIS CHARLES said worriedly. “You're sure you don't mind taking care of him for a few hours? After all, I had a day off just two days ago. I feel a little guilty taking off again so soon.”
Brenna grinned. “Remember to whom you're speaking. I'm the Cinderella girl who never even dreamed she'd have a nanny for Randy only a month ago. Besides, a trip to the dentist isn't exactly a wild spree. Haven't you ever heard of sick benefits?”
“Well, if you're sure…” Doris said doubtfully, and Brenna briskly assured her that she was quite sure, and with a little more coaxing, Doris Charles was persuaded to leave.
Brenna shook her head ruefully, as she picked Randy up in preparation for a trip to the sandbox in the corner of the patio. Sometimes she thought Doris was a little too dedicated to Randy. That infected wisdom tooth must have been excruciating, yet she had put off having it pulled for almost a day, because she didn't want to leave Randy with his own mother. She would enjoy having Randy to herself again, Brenna thought happily, and Doris would surely be back in time to take Randy over while she dressed for dinner. The note Michael had left her at breakfast had said he'd join her for dinner at eight.
She had not seen Michael since he had left her at the pool yesterday, but Mrs. Haskins had told her this morning that he had gone to the complex to see Mr. Walters. He would probably be closeted with Monty most of the day, and lucky to be home for dinner, she thought anxiously. Then her frown cleared miraculously as she remembered Donovan's lovemaking by the pool yesterday. She had an idea it would take more than a business meeting to keep him from keeping their appointment tonight.
She put Randy down in the sandbox and handed him his pail and shovel. She settled down in a nearby lounge chair with a script that Michael had given her two days ago with a brief comment that the feminine lead had possibilities. She had only gotten through the third scene, but she could already see what he meant. She was soon absorbed in the snappy dialogue of the romantic comedy.
“What a domestic scene. It really touches my paternal heart.” The tone was sarcastic and the voice was that of Paul Chadeaux.
Brenna looked up, shocked, her face paling as she realized it really was Chadeaux standing before her, sartorically perfect in a dark blue lounge suit, his gray eyes ugly.
“What are you doing here? Who let you in?” she asked hoarsely.
Chadeaux sat down on the lounge chair opposite her and answered coolly, “Your housekeeper was very obliging. I explained that I was a friend of yours, and she told me to go right on through to the terrace.”
It was an understandable error, Brenna thought numbly. Chadeaux was well dressed and personable, and Mrs. Haskins was accustomed to a constant flow of guests coming and going in this house.
Chadeaux was gazing critically at the golden-haired baby playing contentedly in the sandbox. “He's a good-looking kid,” he said impersonally. “He has the Chadeaux coloring.”
“Many children are very blond when they are young,” Brenna answered coolly. “Their color frequently darkens as they grow older.”
He shot her a poisonous glance. “You have all the answers, don't you? You and those smart-alec lawyers your husband turned loose on me. It was pretty clever of you to put a noose around Donovan, and get him to do your dirty work.”
Brenna's lips tightened. “We have nothing further to talk about, Paul,” she said tersely. “Please leave.”
Chadeaux smiled nastily. “You think you've won, don't you, little sister? Well, don't count on it,” he said. “Donovan may have enough clout to put a spoke in my wheel, but I'm not about to be beaten by some upstart movie mogul.” His face twisted balefully.
“You have no choice in the matter,” Brenna said, moistening her lips nervously.
“You're wrong. There's always an angle; you just have to find it.” Chadeaux's gray eyes were narrowed and sly. “And I've figured the angle, little sister. It's all very simple.” He rose lazily to his feet. “You and I and junior, over there, are going on a little trip. We're going to a nice private place where the two of us can ‘negotiate.’”
She stared at him incredulously. “We're not going anywhere with you,” she said flatly. “Why should we?”
“Because I'm a desperate man, little sister,” he said venomously. “The men to whom I owe money are not very understanding of custody battles and legal delays. If I don't produce their money by next Tuesday, I'm in big trouble.”
He reached out and grabbed her wrist brutally, jerking her to her feet. “Get the kid. We're leaving right now!”
She struggled futilely in an attempt to break his hold. “You're crazy,” she said furiously. “Do you think you can just drag us out of here? Do you think I won't fight you? All I have to do is call and Mrs. Haskins or one of the servants will be right here.”
Chadeaux's grip tightened agonizingly on her wrist, and she cried out in pain. “But you won't call,” he said menacingly. “Because you have a certain fondness for that sweet little tyke of mine.”
Brenna could feel the blood drain from her face as she stared at him in horror. “What do you mean?” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Children are very vulnerable,” he said softly, and his gaze traveled significantly to the swimming pool a few yards away.
“My God! What kind of monster are you?” she said, fear making her sick. “He's your own child.”
“I told you I was desperate,” he snarled. “I'm not stupid enough to murder the little brat, but I'm not above making him quite uncomfortable if I have to.” He smiled unpleasantly. “But I'm not going to have to do that, am I, Brenna? You couldn't stand knowing that you're to blame for causing the little angel any pain, could you?”
“No, you mustn't hurt him,” Brenna said sharply. “I'll go with you. Just don't hurt Randy!”
“I thought you'd be reasonable,” he said smugly. “Now, let's get going. My car is parked in the driveway out front. I see there's a path that circles the house. We won't need to go back inside.”
“I need to change,” she said quickly, “and I'll have to get some things for Randy.” If she could see Mrs. Haskins, perhaps she could signal her in some way, she thought desperately.
Chadeaux shook his head. “Do you think I'm stupid?” he asked arrogantly. He casually gazed at her lilac slacks and white sun top. “You're okay as you are, and I can buy anything the kid needs on the way. I'm not about to let you be tempted to make a dumb move, and start shouting for help. Now, get the kid before I lose my temper.” He released her arm with a little shove. “Move!”
Brenna backed slowly away from him, rubbing her bruised wrist and thinking frantically, trying to see a way out of this horror that would pose no danger to Randy. Chadeaux was a weak, self-indulgent man but in this case he had the desperate viciousness of a cornered rat. She had no doubt that Chadeaux meant what he said when he threatened Randy. She knew from experience how callously cruel he could be.
“No, please,” she said, alarmed. She walked over to the sand-box and lifted the protesting baby, cuddling him protectively.
“Good,” Chadeaux said grimly. “Now, keep on being a smart girl, and we'll get along fine.”
His hand beneath her elbow, he propelled her quickly across the terrace and down the stone walkway that encircled the house.
Brenna searched wildly for some sign of the gardener or Bob, her driver, but neither were in evidence. When they reached the red Buick rental car, she was forced to admit to herself that if she were going to get out of this dangerous predicament, she could not rely on outside help. She must find some way to save Randy herself.
They were a few miles out of Twin Pines, approaching the highway when Brenna made an attempt to reason with Chadeaux for the last time. “You do realize this is kidnapping?” she asked quietly. “You could go to jail for a long time. If you'll just let us go, I promise I'll forget all about it.”
“How generous,” Chadeaux jeered scornfully. “As it happens, I won't need your generosity. After I get what I want, I will let you go and you won't dare go to the police.”
They had reached the highway now and, to her surprise, he didn't turn south toward the California border, but north.
“We're not going to Chadeaux Park?” she asked with some trepidation. She had been hoping she could appeal to the more reasonable members of the Chadeaux family.
“Randy and I will be going there later,” Chadeaux said. “Right now, we're headed toward Portland. I want to be close to the airport, so that I can get a plane immediately.” He shot her a mocking glance. “After you prove how cooperative you can be.”
Brenna shook her head. “I'll never let you have Randy,” she said quietly.
“We'll see, little sister,” he said softly. “We'll see.”
It was almost twilight, and they had reached the outskirts of Portland, when Chadeaux suddenly pulled off the highway. A blue neon sign blinking on and off announced their arrival at the Pinetree Motel. Chadeaux drew up before the small office with a lighted vacancy sign in the large glass picture window.
It was a singularly unimpressive establishment, Brenna noticed drearily. The U-shaped motel units were constructed of gray brick and cedar. Green shutters framed the windows of each individual unit, and the faded and peeling paint gave the motel a generally seedy air.
“This will have to do,” Chadeaux said briefly. He reached for Randy who had been lulled to sleep by the motion of the car. “I'll just take the kid in with me when I register. I don't think you'll have any bright ideas about taking off while I have him.”
Chadeaux returned to the car in a short time, and drove to the far end of the court to a unit with a large brass number seven on the door.
“My lucky number,” he announced with satisfaction, parking directly in front of the door. “Everything is going to turn out just fine, little sister.”
Brenna hugged Randy's body to her nervously as Chadeaux indicated that she should get out of the car.
Chadeaux unlocked the door and pushed her in ahead of him, shutting the door behind him.
Brenna looked around her wearily. The room was small and shabby, with the regulation twin beds and the combination desk-dresser that was common to small-town motels everywhere. At least the room looked fairly clean, Brenna thought tiredly.
She laid Randy down on one of the beds, gently brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
She turned to Chadeaux, and said, “It's past his dinnertime. He must have something to eat.”
“He's asleep,” Chadeaux said, with a shrug. “He'll be all right for a while.” He removed his jacket and threw it on the bed beside Randy. “In the meantime, we can come to an understanding.”
Brenna looked at him steadily. “I don't know what you expect to accomplish, but whatever it is, it's not going to work, Paul.”
A flicker of anger flashed in the shallow gray eyes. “It had better work,” he said malevolently. “Or you're going to be very, very sorry, little sister.”
“Stop calling me that!” Brenna snapped, her nerves raw and quivering from the worry and tension of the past hours.
“I'll call you what I please, bitch,” he snarled. “I've had enough of your insolence. Now you're going to do what you're told.”
With three strides he was across the room. His hands fastened with brutal ferocity on her slender shoulders, and he watched her face with savage enjoyment as he slowly tightened his grip until the pain was excruciating. She cried out in agony.
“Shall I tell you what you're going to do, little sister?” he said tauntingly. “You're going to sit down at that desk over there, and you're going to write out a complete account of Randy's birth, naming me as the father and Janine as the mother, and confessing all the details of Janine's little plot. You're going to give names, dates, and places, so that it will stand up in any court in the country.”
Brenna shook her head, her face twisted in pain from the grip that felt as if it were a medieval torture clamp.
“I won't do it,” she gasped, tears running down her face. “I'll never let you have Randy.”
“Dammit! You will!” Chadeaux snarled furiously, shaking her back and forth, like a dog with a rag doll. He spun her around, and twisted her arm behind her back as he forced her across the room to the desk. As he pulled the desk chair out, his grip loosened fractionally, and with a lightning movement Brenna jerked free and whirled away from him. She backed away, her breast heaving, her eyes wild with fright.
“Damn you!” Chadeaux swore furiously and charged after her, grabbing her once more by the shoulders and trying futilely to subdue her frantic struggles as desperation lent her additional strength. Their struggles had led them to the edge of the vacant bed near the desk, when Chadeaux saw a way of gaining the advantage.
Using the weight of his body, he overbalanced her and she fell heavily onto the bed, striking her head on the wooden head-board. Blinding pain was followed by a moment of darkness, and she went limp beneath Chadeaux's weight. With a swift, satisfied exclamation he pinned her arms above her head, holding her helpless.
He looked down at her in triumph, breathing hard. Suddenly his expression changed, taking on a lustful malevolence that frightened her more than his anger. His gaze went lingeringly over her tousled hair and the top that was now barely covering the tips of her heaving breasts. He ran his tongue over his full lips and his eyes narrowed into gleaming silver slits.
“Suddenly I'm not in a hurry for that affidavit,” he drawled thickly. “I think I'll just see if you're as good as your sister.” His mouth pressed down brutally on hers, bruising the soft inner flesh against her teeth, as she frantically moved her head from side to side to escape him.
“Get off her, Chadeaux.” The words were said with a soft menace that held all the danger of a bared stiletto.
Chadeaux froze, and Brenna drew a breath of infinite thanksgiving.
Donovan held the key to the room in his hand. Obviously he'd used his influence to get it from the motel office. Now he hurled it furiously to the floor and lunged across the room. He jerked Chadeaux up from the bed, throwing him violently against the wall. He followed, his powerful hands squeezing the collar of Chadeaux's shirt into a stranglehold, causing congested color to mount in Chadeaux's frightened face.
“Wait!” Chadeaux gasped desperately, “Listen to me!”
Donovan's face was a mask of rage, his eyes the flaming blue of the fires of hell. “No, you listen. If you say one more word, I'm going to beat you senseless.” Donovan grated, between his teeth. “I may still do it, even if you don't.”
Brenna sat up dazedly, her eyes fixed in fascination on Donovan. She didn't blame Chadeaux for his almost abject terror. There was such an aura of rage about Donovan that it was as if he were surrounded by an invisible wall of flame.
Chadeaux nodded, his eyes bulging, as he gasped helplessly for air.
Donovan turned to Brenna, and her breath caught. She shrank back against the headboard at the white hot fury in his face.
“Get up, and get out of here,” he ordered harshly. “Bob Phillips is waiting outside. Take Randy out to him.”
Brenna scrambled off the bed, experiencing a few moments of dizziness that caused her to falter momentarily before rushing around to pick up Randy from the bed and hurry to the open door.
Donovan was waiting there, his face white and set. He hesitated a moment, then, as if unable to resist the impulse, he turned back and strode to where Chadeaux was cringing against the far wall.
“I told you I might do it anyway,” he said coolly, and struck him a bruising blow to the chin. Chadeaux grunted once, his eyes glazing over, and then slid slowly down the wall, unconscious.
Without giving him another glance, Donovan turned and walked away, grabbing Brenna by the elbow and sweeping her grimly from the room.
As he had said, Bob Phillips was standing by the Mercedes, a worried frown on his craggy face. He carefully avoided Brenna's eyes as they approached. “Everything okay?” he asked Donovan.
Donovan nodded tersely. Taking the sleeping Randy from Brenna, he handed him to Phillips. “Doris Charles will be at the Portland airport by now. I radioed Monty to have her flown here over an hour ago.”
Brenna felt her head whirling in bewilderment, as Phillips put Randy carefully in the front seat of the car. Things had been moving too fast since Donovan had appeared on the scene. She took an automatic step toward the child, and Donovan's hand tightened on her elbow. “No,” he clipped harshly. “You come with me.”
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