Double Dealing Page 14

  Which left him with the task of making her understand that just because he was prepared to back her financially, he was not prepared to be a silent partner. Gabriel intended to have a very vocal say in the plans she was formulating. Damned if she was going to assume she was the one in command.

  But it was going to take some doing to teach her otherwise, he reflected, turning away from the rail to head back to the glass-walled cabin in the ferry. He figured his best chance of regaining the upper hand would be to put Samantha flat on her back in bed. The empty Styrofoam cup crumpled with a soft crunch as his left hand tightened reflexively.

  It wasn’t easy finding the house along the narrow, winding mad which circled the island. It was almost hidden among the heavy growth of pine and fir, but when it came into view, Gabriel decided the old Victorian monstrosity suited Samantha perfectly. Eccentric, fiercely independent, and even arrogant, but like its owner, offering a promise of cozy warmth inside.

  There were two cars in the drive. Gabriel frowned as he parked his rented Buick. The Fiat had to be Samantha’s but the black Ferrari looked like a man’s car. He knew it in his bones. Oakes? Would she have contacted him already? Damn it to hell, she was the one who had said three days. She could damn well honor her own time limit.

  He slammed the door of the innocuous Buick, shoved his chilled hands into the pockets of the windbreaker, and headed toward the porch steps. Was he going to have to kick Oakes out on his ass? Or did the Ferrari belong to some other man, a lover, perhaps?

  No. Not a lover. The only lover in Samantha’s life right now was himself, whether she realized it or not. But if there was a man hanging around who had opinions to the contrary, Gabriel decided he’d have to set the record straight immediately.

  “Now who’s sounding arrogant?” he chided himself half under his breath as he raised his hand to clash the huge brass eagle which appeared to serve as a door knocker. He was rather appalled at the grim resolution he was feeling. Possessive jealousy wasn’t at all characteristic of him. But, then, neither was this business of chasing after a woman and begging her to take his money!

  Samantha glanced up from the computer printout she was studying, a wave of trepidation assailing her as the eagle on her door clanged demandingly. For an instant she stared into her brother’s tense eyes as Eric, too, lifted his head. He turned away from the computer screen where he’d been furiously working on a financial spread-sheet program.

  “It’s probably just some friend of yours, Sam. They can’t know where I am. Not this soon!”

  “Your family knows where you are,” she reminded him tightly, her heart pounding as she considered just who might be standing on the other side of her door. She didn’t fear the possibility of finding another Thorndyke out there. Thorndykes were irritating but manageable. She feared another sort of visitor entirely.

  The deadline Eric’s industrial espionage broker had given her brother had slipped by last night. Eric hadn’t delivered the promised financial information.

  “My family knows, but the people I’m dealing with wouldn’t contact them to find out where I am,” Eric hissed. “And no one else knows where I am!”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll see who it is.” Samantha got to her feet, feeling a little shaky as she faced the prospect of answering her door. “Eric, we’ve got to call the police. I can’t live like this, worrying every time someone knocks on my door!”

  “You think the lake can handle this crowd?” he scoffed unhappily.

  “Well, what are we going to do? If you really think they’ll be after you… “

  “I’m working on it, Sam. Don’t worry. By tomorrow I’ll have this doctored spread-sheet ready. West-Land won’t be able to tell it isn’t the original version! I’ll turn it over and we’ll be out of this mess.”

  The idea had come to Eric and Samantha yesterday as the deadline for delivery drew near. Samantha had known from the first that her brother wouldn’t be able to follow through on his act of corporate espionage. Rage and a driving sense of injustice had pushed him into rashly making the deal, but the ties of family loyalty and his own personal decency had reasserted themselves. He was not Victor Thorndyke’s son for nothing.

  But the plan for extricating him from the web he had woven was taking time to prepare. The substitute data sheets with the phony financial information had to look good if they were to fool both Eric’s shadowy contact and West-Land. He had been up most of the night restructuring the original spread-sheet. Samantha had spent the night beside him, doing what she could to help. The thought of time having run out on them was terrifying.

  The clash of the eagle came again, and Samantha drew in her breath. The door had to be answered.

  “Sam,” Eric called after her urgently.

  “Yes?” She paused in the doorway and glanced back at her brother’s disturbed expression. He was scared, too, she realized.

  “Sam, if you don’t recognize whoever’s out there, don’t open the door,” he ordered starkly.

  “Believe me, I won’t!”

  “I wish you’d gotten a dog, a big one, like I told you to a few months ago,” Eric muttered, sliding out of his chair and moving forward to follow her into the living room.

  “Oh, shut up and stay out of sight,” she gritted irritably. “It’s probably only your brother or one of his minions come to take you home.”

  “A large dog wouldn’t be a bad idea in that case, either.”

  Samantha padded across the floor in her fluffy house slippers. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans which fit like a glove and a loose, plaid flannel shirt. Her hair was knotted carelessly on top of her head, slightly askew. The long, hard night showed in the drawn look of her features and in the unnatural brightness of the brown and gold eyes.

  Restlessly she prodded her glasses higher on her nose and peered through the tiny peephole built into the old wooden door.

  “Gabriel!” The name was a soft, startled exclamation. She blinked rapidly, stepping back from the door. “It’s Gabriel Sinclair!”

  “Who the hell’s that?” Eric frowned from across the room, watching the shocked expression on his half sister’s face. “You know him?”

  “You could say that. Good grief! I never thought… I mean, the most I expected was a phone call. I didn’t dream he’d turn up on my front porch!”

  “Who is he?”

  “A . a business acquaintance,” Samantha began awkwardly as the eagle clashed once again.

  “Well, for God’s sake let him in,” Eric grunted in relief. “I’m going back to work.” He swung around the corner, heading back down the hall to the parlor where the computer equipment was housed.

  Samantha reached for the doorknob with trembling fingers. Gabriel had come. In her heart of hearts she hadn’t really expected him to show up. Not like this. Wordlessly she flung open the door and stood staring up at the man in front of her.

  Gabriel’s gaze ran assessingly over her drawn, too-tense features and came to rest on the widened tortoiseshell eyes. “Mind if I come in?” he finally drawled when she just stood there, saying nothing. “It’s damn cold out here.”

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered hoarsely.

  “What do you think I’m doing here? You could have used a few more days at the spa, Samantha. You look like hell. Or do you owe this delightfully haggard appearance to the man who drives that Ferrari parked outside?”

  “Actually,” she managed flippantly, recovering from her initial shock, “that’s not far off the mark. Come in, Gabriel. Somehow I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  He moved through the doorway, the dense, restrained power of him intimidating her senses as she tried to readjust to his unexpected presence. Her plans for Drew Buchanan had taken a temporary back burner as the crisis involving her brother had materialized. And she had flung the ultimatum at Gabriel more out of self-defense than any real expectation that it would work.

  It had worked!

  The full meaning of that began to
dawn on her as she watched him shrug out of his jacket. His eyes moved almost aggressively around the pleasantly cluttered room. She found herself remembering the pristine neatness of his own home.

  “Don’t worry, no rats or cockroaches, Gabriel. A little cozy sloppiness never hurt anyone!” She took his lightweight jacket and hung it in the hall closet, aware that he was watching her now with an intensity that was unnerving. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she demanded brightly, turning to confront him.

  “Who is he?”

  “Who?” She honestly didn’t know who he was talking about. Her head was filling up too fast with all the possibilities of Gabriel’s presence. He had come to seal their partnership. She could hardly believe it.

  “The man who drives that Ferrari parked outside,”

  Gabriel explained with a patience which sounded as if he was willing to stand there in her hall until doomsday waiting for the answer.

  “Oh, him!” Was Gabriel a little jealous? Good Lord, how much power did she really have? “That’s Eric. Come along, Gabriel, and I’ll make the coffee.”

  Before Gabriel could answer, Eric’s voice came loudly from the back parlor. “Make some for me, too, Sam. I need another cup!”

  Gabriel eyed Samantha for a second and then swung around on his heel and headed down the hall, following the sound of Eric’s voice.

  “Gabriel, wait!” Samantha yelped anxiously, realizing the unstoppable force she had unleashed. “Eric is my…”

  The words died on her lips as his broad back disappeared. Samantha glared at the empty hall. “Well, hell! Who’s in charge around here, anyway?” The sight of Gabriel on her doorstep had caused her to believe she might be once again in command. Obviously it was going to take some effort to stay in that position. She stomped down the hall toward the back parlor, rounding the corner just in time to see Gabriel come face-to-face with a mildly surprised Eric.

  “If you’re not the computer repair man, we might have a problem,” Gabriel said evenly.

  Eric arched one black brow, his fingers drumming gently on the computer console in front of him. “Then it’s lucky I am the computer repair man, isn’t it?”

  “Gabriel, stop it!” Samantha hurried up behind the two men, not caring for the cool way they were assessing each other. “This is Eric Thorndyke, my half brother. Eric, this is Gabriel Sinclair, a … a business acquaintance.”

  “No kidding,” Eric murmured, blue eyes gleaming in spite of the exhaustion in them. “Since when did you go for the heavy-handed macho type, Sam?”

  “Business makes strange bedfellows,” Gabriel said calmly.

  “Gabriel!” Samantha’s dismayed exclamation made Eric’s brow rise another half inch.

  “So he’s that type of business acquaintance, hmm?”

  “Cut it out! Both of you! Damn it, Gabriel is here on business. Aren’t you, Gabriel?” she challenged, whirling to confront him.

  He stared at her, drinking in the sight of her furiously flushed face and disheveled clothing. “You could say that.”

  “I am saying it. Now do you want some coffee or don’t you?” she snapped.

  “I do, even if he doesn’t,” Eric volunteered, staring moodily at his terminal screen. “I think I’ve got another long night ahead.”

  Samantha shook her head urgently, anxiety flaring in her gaze as she was recalled to her brother’s far more critical problem. “Eric, I think you should get some sleep. You can’t work efficiently when you’re this tired.”

  “Believe me, Sam, I wouldn’t sleep a wink,” he retorted dryly, punching a button on the machine. “Go get your ‘business acquaintance’ some coffee. Sounds like the two of you have a few things to talk about in private.”

  “For a computer type, your brother displays an amazing amount of people sense,” Gabriel declared firmly, taking hold of Samantha’s arm and guiding her forcefully out of the parlor. “And I could use a shot of brandy with that coffee if you’ve got it. I’m chilled to the bone. It’s going to take me hours to warm up!”

  “Gabriel, you can’t simply come charging in here and acting as if you have a right to give orders like this!” Samantha’s protests were somewhat diluted by the fact that she was being hustled down the hall. “If you’re here to do business… “

  “Oh, I am, I am.”

  “Then you can damn well act a little more businesslike!”

  “You never told me there was a third party involved in your little scheme, Samantha. Where do you keep the pot?” He released her as they walked into the kitchen.

  “What third party? Just sit down, will you? You’re making me nervous, the way you’re charging around here like a bull in a china shop!”

  “I’m making you nervous! That’s a switch.” But he sat, lowering himself into one of the ladder-back chairs at the kitchen table. He watched Samantha as she began shoveling coffee in large quantities into the automatic drip machine. “Tell me about Eric.”

  “What’s to tell?” she grumbled, measuring water in a rather rough fashion. “He’s my half brother. He’s staying here for a while,” she added with sudden firmness. If Gabriel thought there was going to be another person in the house tonight, he might not press to stay here himself. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was to be confronted by the possibility of another night in bed with Gabriel Sinclair. She was damn well going to keep whatever edge her ultimatum had given her!

  “He’s helping you with your big plans for taking on Buchanan? Samantha, that’s going to be lousy coffee.” He got to his feet. “Here, let me do it.”

  She let herself be gently shouldered aside, too tired physically to fight him. “Eric isn’t helping me with the Buchanan deal. Is that what you meant by having a third party involved?”

  Gabriel nodded, pouring the coffee back out of the machine and remeasuring it carefully. “If he’s not part of your scheme, then what in hell have the two of you been doing all night on that computer? You both look exhausted.”

  Samantha moved uneasily, taking the chair he had just vacated. “Eric is working on an important program that he wants to finish and take back with him to Los Angeles.” Poor, but she really couldn’t think very straight at the moment. The long hours of the night and the morning were beginning to tell. She wondered how much longer Eric would be able to go on without sleep. He had been laboring twice as hard as she had.

  “Must be one hell of a program to keep you both up all night! Come on, Samantha, what’s going on? I get the feeling that whatever you and your brother are working on, it’s important to you, as important even as our deal.”

  “Eric’s project just happens to have a deadline on it, that’s all. My deal will wait a couple of days,” she mumbled. Then she brightened a bit. “Gabriel, have you really decided to back me after all?”

  He finished pouring carefully measured water into the machine and turned on the switch before answering. She studied his back, aware of the solid breadth of his shoulders. Disturbing memories of how those hard, smoothly muscled shoulders had blocked out the moonlight as Gabriel had lowered himself into her body that night in California jangled alive in her mind. Ruthlessly she squashed the images. This was business.

  “If you’re still determined to try your hand at outwitting Buchanan, I’ll back you financially,” Gabriel said very seriously. He turned away from the coffee machine, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his broad chest. He looked, Samantha thought, awfully implacable for a man who had just surrendered to an ultimatum. She eyed him from beneath lowered lashes. “There are, however,” he continued, “a few conditions.”

  “The hell there are,” she sighed wearily, closing her eyes completely and leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. Her jean-clad legs stretched out in front of her. “Tell me about the conditions, Gabriel.” Samantha groaned.

  He hesitated. “Somehow you just don’t look like you’re up to doing business,” he observed mildly. “Do you always exhaust yourself like this when yo
u’re working on a crash project?”

  Her eyes flickered open and she regarded him balefully. “Tell me about the conditions, Gabriel.”

  The brackets at the edge of his mouth tightened ominously. It occurred to Samantha that this man had a little practicing to do in his role of supplicant. She had to keep reminding herself that he had come running after her, asking for a partnership.

  “Condition number one,” Gabriel growled, “is that I am not going to be a totally silent partner. I’m not going to simply turn the money over to you, Samantha, and let you handle everything. I’ll want a full voice in every decision that needs making.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’ll louse it all up and you’ll wind up with half interest in a restaurant instead of several hundred thousand dollars in interest on your money?”

  “I try to limit the risks,” he drawled.

  “Working with me is a risk?”

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

  “But you’re willing to take the risk of financing me because you can’t bear to turn your back on all that nice, easy money and the chance of getting even with Buchanan, right?” she concluded in satisfaction.

  He pulled himself away from the counter and reached for a couple of coffee cups as the machine finished its task. “Samantha, honey, I know you think you’re in the driver’s seat at the moment, but don’t go getting too uppity on me, okay? I haven’t written out the check yet.”

  She didn’t care for the slow, even way he said that. “Here, give me one of those cups,” she murmured gruffly. “I’ll take it in to Eric.”

  He filled the cup and handed it to her silently. Samantha grabbed it and hurried out of the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to get away from him for a moment. The way he seemed to fill her kitchen made her feel strangely restless and a little jittery. Or perhaps the jitters were just a result of all the coffee she had drank today, she decided reassuringly.