Hannah marveled at the perfectly neutral tone of his words. Whatever had happened with Ballantine Manufacturing could not have been a neutral event for him. It had set him on the course he had followed unerringly for the past nine years. “You were only about thirty or thirty-one at the time, weren’t you? After that, there was, apparently, no stopping you.”
“I’ve been reasonably successful.”
“You’ve been a steamroller. There’s a difference, I think.”
“No, Miss Jessett, there isn’t. Being successful in my line of work means being a steamroller.”
“As a professional guidance counselor, allow me to disagree. You’re just in the habit of launching victorious assaults on companies such as my brother’s. Habit, Mr. Cage. You’re not moving in on him out of necessity. You don’t need his firm. You just saw it sitting there looking vulnerable and decided to grab it. I’d think you’d want more challenge, but that’s your problem. I’m not here to alter your entire way of doing business.”
“Lucky me.”
Hannah gritted her teeth against the pain in her leg and kept her smile intact. “I’m here only to persuade you to lay off my brother’s firm. As you, yourself, said, he’s young. He needs time to bring the management situation at Accelerated Design back under control. If you take over the firm, he’ll be out in the cold. You’ll have obtained a company with some interesting products, it’s true, but you hardly need one more of those. You’ve got lots of them already.”
“I’m supposed to walk away from such easy pickings just because you’ve flown down here to plead your brother’s case?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Cage. I wouldn’t dream of appealing to your compassion or sympathy. You’ve already confirmed that you’re short on both commodities, remember?”
A curious smile edged his mouth. “I remember. So what are you offering that will tempt me to forget about Accelerated Design?”
Hannah gathered her courage. “A simple game of chance.”
“A game of chance.” He took a slow swallow of the margarita, his gaze on the pool. “That wasn’t quite what I expected, Hannah.”
“Yes, I know. As I said, you’ve become a creature of habit. The habit of victory, whether in business or here in Vegas. I’m taking an educated guess that after nine years of hollow victories, you’ve become rather jaded, Mr. Cage. Everything’s too easy for you now. Moving in on my brother’s firm will provide no new sport, only the same temporary shot of adrenaline. You need a bit of real excitement in your life and I’m going to provide it.” Hannah waited, her own adrenaline pumping furiously into her bloodstream.
“Excitement. That’s an interesting thought. I take it you can do some fairly exotic things with that cane, then?”
“I said a game of chance. I meant cards, Mr. Cage. I’m proposing that you let your future hinge on the luck of the draw. You come to Vegas for a few days every summer, but have you ever risked something really important on a twist of fate? Have you ever won or lost a business deal on a bet? Think of the novelty of it.”
He stared at her and then he laughed. “I do see the novelty of it, Hannah. But the stupidity is far more evident. Jesus Christ, lady, you must be out of your head. Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“Even a guidance counselor couldn’t be that naive.”
Hannah leaned forward earnestly. “Gambling is apparently your one form of recreation, Mr. Cage. You’re here now because you always come here at this time of year for a break. You’re in the mood to gamble and I’m offering some interesting stakes. How can you resist? We draw for the highest card. Two out of three wins. If I win you give up your plans to take over my brother’s firm. If you win…” She lifted one shoulder fatalistically.
“I take over? I can do that already. Any way you look at it, all I get out of the deal is a shot at losing.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, you get a break from doing business in the same, habitual fashion. You also get a break from your habitual form of recreation. I’m offering you a gamble with very large stakes. You see, I loaned my brother some money to help him start Accelerated Design. I took the repayment in stock. I now own a sizeable chunk. If I lose, I’ll hand over my shares to you. It will make your takeover infinitely cheaper and less troublesome because you will hold more than enough stock to put you in control. Surely that’s a more interesting proposition than a game of blackjack inside the casino.”
There was a pause and then Gideon asked, “Just out of sheer, unadulterated curiosity, how did you know about my annual trip to Vegas?”
“I’m aware that you come here once or twice during the summer. Personally, I can’t see why anyone would leave Tucson to come to Vegas in the summer. They’re both deserts. But you’ve been doing it for years. My brother heard it from someone on theAccelerated Design Board of Directors. He said you limit yourself to one or two trips every twelve months or so and stay only a few days each time. But while you’re here, you’re rumored to bet very heavily. Not my idea of an annual vacation, but to each his own.”
“Thank you for your tolerance. Vacation is the right word, by the way. Vegas isn’t business for me. I don’t do business the way I take a vacation.” He spaced the words out carefully, as though she weren’t very intelligent.
Hannah ignored the warning. “Think about it, Mr. Cage. Think about the unique opportunity I’m giving you. Have any of your other sitting ducks ever offered you a chance to win or lose on the draw of a card?”
“None have been quite that idiotic,” he admitted. “What did your brother say about all this?”
“I didn’t tell him exactly what I had in mind.”
“I’ll just bet you didn’t.”
Hannah smiled meaningfully. “That’s all I’m asking, Mr. Cage. That you make a bet. An important bet. Try it; you’ll like it. It will give you a break from the monotony of your usual mode of business. I think you need a break.” She reached for the cane and started to get to her feet.
Automatically Cage got up and grasped her arm. He frowned slightly as he took in the wince she couldn’t quite hide. “How bad’s the leg?”
Startled by the question, Hannah glanced up at him. “Bad enough. I was in a car accident a few weeks ago. They’re going to have to operate on my knee the day after tomorrow.”
“Then what?”
She smiled. “Therapy for a while and then I get to go on my annual vacation. I’m going to walk along a Caribbean beach and do a lot of swimming. It’s supposed to be very good for getting the leg back into shape.”
“I see. You don’t spend your vacations in Vegas?”
“No, Mr. Cage. I don’t find gambling very amusing. It’s your style of recreation, not mine. At a wild guess I’d say gambling appeals to you because it seems to provide an alternative to the precision and calculation with which you normally operate, but I doubt that it gives you a real change of pace. As a form of recreation it probably doesn’t work very well for you in the long run.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you probably play the way you work: lots of skill and concentration. It’s not really a change from business for you. All gambling does is inject more unknowns into the situation. Still, that must provide some diversion. My little game of chance will do more for you because the stakes are more meaningful.”
He kept his hand under her arm for a few steps as they walked back toward the hotel entrance, dropping it only when Hannah calmly pulled away. He continued to pad barefoot along beside her. “I take it you wouldn’t get the same charge out of this, er, game of chance you’re suggesting as you think I would?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He eyed her assessingly. “I think you’re lying. I believe you would find it very exhilarating. Otherwise you would never have proposed it.”
She came to a halt at the glass doors and turned to face him. She was leaning very heavily on the cane now but she managed to keep her expression aloof and reasonably serene. “I don’t really care what
you believe about my motives. My only concern is to talk you into taking the chance. I’m staying here in the hotel. Room 432. Call me this evening after you’ve had a chance to consider my proposal. All or nothing, Mr. Cage. Win or lose, for once the House doesn’t get a cut. How can you resist?”
“Are all guidance counselors this bizarre in their approach?”
“Nope. Some would give you a twenty-page test to determine your true interests and abilities. Then they’d tell you what you already know: you’re a born genius at business and you like the occasional bit of gambling—as long as the stakes are high enough to make it interesting.”
Cage opened the door. “Tell me, Hannah Jessett, are you really very good at your work?”
“One of the best. I have a talent for it.” She moved the cane cautiously onto the step, avoiding the gravel that had proven so treacherous earlier. “Call me, Mr. Cage. I’ll be at the hotel until tomorrow afternoon. Then I leave for Seattle.”
“That sounds like an ultimatum.”
“It is. I’m giving it because I’ve got one hanging over my own head. I have to be in the hospital the day after tomorrow. I don’t have time to string this out.” She didn’t look back as she made her way into the air-conditioned hallway. The glass door hissed shut behind her.
Before she turned the corner at the far end of the hall, Hannah glanced back once. Cage was still standing on the step, watching her. Her first thought as she rounded the corner and disappeared from his sight was that Gideon Cage looked surprisingly interesting in a swimsuit. Not at all like a spider or a snake.
Her second thought was that if he did call that evening she would suggest they eat at one of the half dozen restaurants in the hotel. It would save having to drive some place. She was getting better about driving, but Hannah still avoided it whenever possible, especially in a strange environment. Since the accident, it had taken a great deal of nerve just to be a passenger in a car. It took even more to get behind the wheel herself.
She was getting better. The butterflies in her stomach had only fluttered lethargically during the cab ride in from the airport that day. But there was no sense adding any additional strain to the evening. If Cage agreed to the bet, she would be nervous enough as it was.
Then her attention switched to the tablet waiting for her in the room. One thing at a time. Pain definitely took precedence over sexual attraction or her progress in recovering her driving nerve. Pain, when it struck, took precedence over just about everything, she had discovered.
GIDEON DRESSED FOR DINNER with absentminded attention. He’d phoned room 432 an hour before and calmly told Hannah that he would be there at six-thirty. He’d apparently awakened her from a nap.
“Does this mean you’ve agreed to my bet?” she’d inquired in a sleep-fuzzed voice.
“It means I’m taking you to dinner. One thing at a time, Hannah.”
“Just what I told myself when I left you a couple of hours ago. See you at six-thirty. Would you mind if we ate in one of the hotel restaurants?”
“Suit yourself.” She probably didn’t want to venture far on that leg, he decided.
Gideon buttoned a white, open-throated shirt and fastened a belt on his dark slacks. The Vegas life-style tolerated anything from Bermuda shorts to a tuxedo. He chose the middle ground. Tie and jacket would be sufficient for this evening.
The classiest of the six hotel restaurants was done in a typically overwrought Vegas style. Greek pillars, splashing, lighted fountains and a staff dressed in togas. But the food was surprisingly good for a casino restaurant. It was one of the reasons Gideon returned to that hotel year after year. He frowned in the mirror, remembering what Hannah had said about his predictable habits. Her comments had been bothering him all afternoon.
Something about Hannah Jessett had gotten to him. Gideon knotted his tie, mildly irritated as he remembered the image of her sitting by the pool. She had worn the khaki bush shirt with its epaulets, button-studded pockets and dashing, quasi-military air with a certain defiant panache. She was not built like a Vegas showgirl on top. The outline of her breasts beneath the shirt had been small and gently curved. A wide, heavy leather belt with a sturdy brass buckle had defined a slim waist and emphasized the nice shape of her rear, which was encased in a pair of snug-fitting jeans.
The thought of the petite breasts and rounded derriere stopped Gideon for a second and then he found himself grimacing wryly at himself in the mirror. This evening hardly qualified as a dinner date. It was really more of a business skirmish.
But there was no doubt that it was going to be supremely entertaining. And it had been so long since he’d really enjoyed himself for an evening. Perhaps he should date more guidance counselors. He was curious to know how she would respond to the final act of the little farce she had staged.
He was curious about other aspects of Hannah Jessett, too, Gideon decided as he picked up a light sport jacket and started toward the door. She’d been oddly on target that afternoon when she’d accused him of finding that his victories were growing hollow. How had she known of the increasing lack of satisfaction in each new triumph? How had she guessed at something he hadn’t even wanted to confront himself?
Maybe it was curiosity that had made him phone room 432 and tell her he’d take her to dinner. Hannah Jessett was a new and unexpected element in his world. His mouth crooked upward at one corner as he fished in his pocket to check for the room key. On the other hand, he might have been motivated strictly by the soft, round shape of her tail in that pair of too-tight jeans she’d been wearing.
Actually, she’d been pleasantly soft looking all over. Her loose khaki shirt hadn’t revealed a lot of detail but he’d been able to tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Her hair had been soft, too, a cascade of little curls rather than a sleek businesswoman’s cut. Even her face had seemed soft, except for a certain tightness around the mouth that he knew betrayed the pain in her leg. The lady had good eyes, Gideon reflected, as he put his hand on the doorknob. The wide, hazel-green gaze was direct and probably far too honest for her own good. He liked that. It gave him one more advantage. It was his nature to operate from a position of advantage.
All in all she looked a bit like an ex-liberal-arts grad student. He pegged her age at around thirty or thirty-one. He guessed she did her guidance counseling at a college. When the phone rang, Gideon was reflecting on the fact that he hadn’t ever received any professional guidance counseling in his life.
For an instant he contemplated ignoring it, and then the thought that it might be his new counselor made him step back into the room.
“Gideon? It’s Steve. I’m about to leave for the airport.”
“Don’t let me hold you up. If you miss the flight back to Tucson, Angie will sure as hell blame me.” The polite, running battle Angie Decker conducted in defense of her husband always amused Gideon. She was convinced that Gideon was far too demanding and that her husband should be more assertive. She never quite grasped the fact that Steve Decker preferred to follow orders in the business world rather than give them.
“I checked with the office an hour ago. Mary Ann was on her way out the door but she said there was a message from Taggert. It was about Ballantine.”
Gideon glanced at his watch. It was getting late. “Okay, let me have it.”
“Not much, really, just that Taggert says he’s on the move. Rumor has it that Ballantine really is going to go after Surbrook.”
“Well, hell.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t stand a chance,” Gideon murmured.
“No, but he knows you want the company and he can drive the price way up by acting as though he’s interested in making a counteroffer. Hell, we’ve pulled that stunt ourselves a few times.”
Gideon found himself staring at the framed reproduction of the 1569 world map by Gerhard Mercator that hung on the wall. Part fantasy, part reality, it was, nevertheless, a genuine effort to make sense out of that which was onl
y partially known and largely misunderstood. That was the thing about maps, Gideon had always thought. They were monuments to the human need to comprehend and control the environment. He had found it astonishing that a Las Vegas hotel would have the taste to use such an item in its room decor. Reality was not a big deal there in Vegas. Gideon always asked for that room because of the map. Another habit. He’d more or less abandoned the collecting that had once been an important part of his life, but something in him still responded to an interesting map. “There’s nothing we can do about it tonight. I’ll call you in the morning. Make sure Taggert’s available.”
“All right. Just thought you ought to know Ballantine will definitely be challenging us.”
No, Gideon thought, not us. He’ll be challenging me. “Thanks for the update on the Marsden deal and the Jessett move, Steve. Sorry you had to fly here on such short notice. Make my apologies to Angie.”
“I’ll do that. Maybe it will get me off the hook for having to miss Terry’s school play last night. Goodbye, Gideon. See you when you get back to Tucson.”
Gideon tossed the receiver back into its cradle and started for the door. For a moment he allowed himself to dwell on the news about Ballantine. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The young cub was going to take on the full-grown wolf. The time to crush Hugh Ballantine was now, while he was still young enough and weak enough to be dealt with easily. Gideon opened the door and stepped outside into the thickly carpeted hall. Time enough in the morning to think about that. He had other things to do this evening.
He was going to give a certain career counselor a small but hopefully salutary bit of guidance.
HANNAH REACHED SURREPTITIOUSLY under the table and tried to knead her left knee as she munched on a bite of stuffed salmon. She had barely touched the glass of sauvignon blanc Gideon had ordered. She had to keep the alcohol intake down, she warned herself. The last thing she wanted was trouble from mixing the painkiller with wine. She’d kept the afternoon dose to a minimum, though, and it hadn’t been enough to completely dull the ache in her leg. God, she would be glad when this was all over. It was tough to appear casually chic under the circumstances.
Twist of Fate Page 2
