Jack waited until she had finished her conversation with Louise and hung up the phone.
“That should get us some useful information,” she said, turning back to face him. “Louise knows how to dig up the dirt on just about anybody. I should have thought of this yesterday.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” he said.
“Gee, thanks for that glowing endorsement.”
“Speaking of problems, I’d like to get back to our earlier topic.”
“Which one?”
“You. Here in Mirror Springs.”
She leaned against the back of the sofa, braced her arms on either side of her hips, and gave him a fierce look. “Don’t even think about trying to convince me to leave.”
“Elizabeth, I’ve got enough to worry about without having to wonder if Vicky is going to continue her little campaign to scare you out of town. It could get vicious. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“What you’re really saying is that I’ve become an additional complication for you.”
He spread the fingers of one hand wide. “You’ve been complicating my life since the day we met.”
“You seem to have coped,” she said a little too sweetly.
“Maybe. But this situation is getting messy.”
“Well, you’ll just have to deal with it, because I’m not cutting out now.” Elizabeth gave him an oddly thoughtful expression. “Besides, she may come after you next.”
He smiled. “You think Vicky will try to scare me off?”
“Not necessarily.” Elizabeth studied him intently for a long moment. “If she’s really into the role of the femme fatale, she might decide to try to seduce you instead.”
He blinked. Then he gave her a wolfish grin. “That possibility worries you?”
“Yes, it does.” She glowered at him. “Talk about complications. If Vicky sweeps you off your feet, we’ll have real problems on our hands.”
He laughed softly. “Fat chance.”
Elizabeth smiled dangerously. “Are you saying you wouldn’t be tempted if a woman like Vicky Bellamy came on to you?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, all right. I was never good at juggling women. It’s always a lot more difficult than it looks. At the moment, I’ve got my hands full.”
“Are you talking about me?”
“Of course I’m talking about you. See any other women in the vicinity?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“I thought I’d made it clear that there hasn’t been anyone else for the past six months.”
She turned her back to him and stood looking out into the night. “You’ve been busy with Excalibur.”
He studied the rigid line of her graceful spine. The proud way she carried herself drew him like a magnet. “Not so busy that I couldn’t have taken time to get laid if I’d wanted it or needed it badly enough. A good CEO knows how to set priorities.”
“I see.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve been pretty busy, too,” she said, very offhand. “A few business dinners. That’s about it.”
Hayden’s mocking words came back to him. You might as well have written her name on the men’s room wall at the club: “For a good time you definitely do not want to call Elizabeth the Ice Princess.”
He walked across the room and came to a halt immediately behind her. He did not touch her. “Hayden told me that it’s my fault you haven’t had any serious relationships for the past six months.”
“Your fault?” Her voice rose in sharp outrage. “Good grief. Does he actually believe that I’ve been carrying the torch for you and you alone for six whole months?”
He winced at the derisive tone. “Not exactly. He thinks that after that blowup in the Pacific Rim Club, you got saddled with a certain, uh, reputation.”
“I see. The Ice Princess thing?”
“Hayden implied that the title may have scared off a few of your date prospects.”
She gave a short, ladylike snort. “Do you really think I’d want to date any man who got scared off that easily?”
He studied the arrogant tilt of her chin and smiled. He had definitely been wrong about the ice part, he thought, but not about the rest of it. There was something innately regal about her.
“No,” he said.
“Look, we’re getting a little off track here. We were talking about Vicky and Dawson Holland.”
“I need to know,” Jack said simply.
“What, exactly, do you need to know?”
“Was it the fallout from that scene at the club that put a damper on your social life?”
She exhaled deeply. “Brace yourself, Jack. Believe it or not, there were one or two men who worked up the nerve to ask me out after you announced to the world that I was frigid. What’s more, I got the distinct impression that they were interested in more than just a friendly chat about what the Fed will do with interest rates.”
He forced himself to ignore the sarcasm. He drew his finger across her bare nape. “So why haven’t you been dating?”
“I’ve been busy.” She turned slowly around to face him at last. There was steely determination in her eyes. “About Vicky Bellamy—”
He knew that he had pushed her as far as she was willing to be pushed. Reluctantly he dropped his hand to his side. “If you won’t talk about packing your bags and heading back to Seattle—”
“I won’t even discuss it,” she said crisply. “I’m not going anywhere. You need me, Jack.”
He looked at her and felt everything inside him focus one hundred percent on her. He put his hands very carefully around her neck. He used his thumbs to tip up her chin.
“I won’t argue with that,” he whispered.
Something in her eyes softened and deepened. “What a relief.” She raised her mouth for his kiss.
This time they made it upstairs to his bed before he got her out of her jeans.
LATER, AFTER SHE had fallen asleep beside him, he lay back against the pillow, one arm behind his head, and silently asked the other question, the one he had not asked earlier.
Do you need me?
DAWSON PICKED UP the two balloon glasses and handed one to Vicky. “It’s time for another assault from our stalker.”
“I don’t think it’s working,” Vicky said. “Everyone has concluded that the whole stalking thing is just a PR stunt. Even the masseuse at the spa asked me yesterday if it wasn’t just a publicity gimmick.”
“It’s your fault. You’re not acting sufficiently terrorized when he strikes.”
Vicky swirled the liquor in the glass. “Maybe it is my fault. But I want to call it off. At least until the festival is over. Please, Dawson. This is an important week for me. I want to enjoy it.”
He hesitated and then decided to relent. “You’re right. This is your big week. I suppose we can cancel our stalker for a while.”
She gave him a glowing smile. “You are so good to me, Dawson.”
He looked at her. She was wearing the white peignoir tonight, the one that made her look like an innocent acolyte from some medieval cloistered retreat. She knew how much he liked this game, he thought. Hell, she knew everything there was to know about his sexual tastes. She had studied him; devoted herself to learning what pleased him in bed. She could have been the perfect mistress. Instead, she was the perfect wife. His wife. Every man he knew envied him. Every man who saw Vicky wanted her. But as long as he could afford her, she was his.
So why did he need the other women? he wondered. What was he looking for when he spent himself inside those faceless, nameless bodies? None of them could hold a candle to Vicky. If he tried to explain his problem to a shrink, the guy would think he really was nuts.
Vicky smiled as she sank down onto her knees in front of him.
The fabric of her white gown settled around her in graceful folds, brushing the tips of his shoes. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, a novice kneeling at the feet of her chosen instructor, eager to learn th
e mysteries only he could impart.
He felt himself grow hard. It was as if she worked some magical spell on him. He did not have to do anything. She always did all the work. She was the aggressor, even when they played the acolyte game. How many men would kill to be in his place?
She put her fingertips on his knees and opened his legs. His robe fell open. She leaned forward, lips parted.
A short time later, on the brink of abandoning himself to the white-hot climax, he opened his eyes for a split second. He looked down at the top of Vicky’s golden head and had a revelation. Suddenly he knew why he still needed the other women.
He sought them out because he needed reassurance. From time to time he needed to confirm his own manhood in the oldest, most fundamental way. He needed to prove to himself that he was still the one in control.
Because when he was with Vicky he knew that he was not in control. Like some exquisitely trained geisha, she gave him everything and at the same time she gave him nothing of herself. He could own her, but he could not truly possess her.
She was smart. He was a little worried that she might be even smarter than he was. But lately what disturbed him the most was that she was always in complete command of herself. She never drank too much, never ate to excess, never truly surrendered to the pleasures of sex. He was almost certain now that she was frigid.
As far as he could tell, she had no weaknesses other than her desire to act in films, and even when it came to that she drew the line. Acting was important to her, but not so important that she would have been willing to sacrifice everything for an acting career. Perhaps that was why she had never made it in Hollywood.
The blinding truth hit him.
Sometimes she scared the hell out of him.
ELIZABETH STOOD ON the sidewalk outside a small shop that featured expensive handmade jewelry and pretended to study the display of one-of-a-kind necklaces behind the window. But her attention was on the faint reflection of Vicky Bellamy, who was walking into a clothing boutique on the opposite side of the street.
Tailing someone was proving to be a lot more boring in real life than it looked in the movies, Elizabeth thought. Either that, or Vicky just had a lot of dull stuff on her schedule today.
She couldn’t complain, though. It had been her idea to follow Vicky around this morning. Jack had warned her that it would be a waste of time. He had remained at the house to make phone calls to Milo Ingersoll and to Larry. When she had left him he had been deep into a conversation with his brother. The topic had been Dawson Holland’s recent business activities.
Jack had looked up from the phone and frowned when he noticed that she was heading for the door.
He’d put one hand over the receiver and said, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
She’d made a face and walked outside to her car.
Finding Vicky in town had been easy enough. Elizabeth had consulted the festival schedule, noted an actor’s workshop that featured her quarry on a panel, and simply waited.
When the panel had concluded, Vicky had promptly gone shopping. An hour had passed and she was still cruising through the trendy boutiques and shops that lined the main street of Mirror Springs.
The small downtown district was crowded with festivalgoers who were taking a break from screenings and workshops, but it was not difficult to keep track of Vicky. Dressed in a winter white turtleneck, flowing, wide-legged white trousers, and a long sweep of dashing white coat, she stood out like a beacon amid the sea of black and denim. Not just wanting to be noticed, Elizabeth thought. Needing it. Craving it. Living the part of Victoria Bellamy, Actress.
Or just making it easy for someone to follow her?
She was so intent on Vicky that she did not sense the presence of the large, burly man who had moved into her personal space until he spoke.
“Lizzie? Hey, talk about luck, huh? I was just about to drive out to your place.”
She started at the sound of the too-familiar voice. Her gaze snapped from Vicky’s reflection to that of the man standing beside her. At the sight of him she felt a small sigh unfurl within her.
Her brother-in-law always reminded her of a good-natured, eager-to-please St. Bernard. There was something refreshingly innocent and endearing about him. It was almost impossible to resist his friendly, engagingly unhandsome face. His red hair and cheerful blue eyes gave him a look of honesty and sincerity that she knew was utterly genuine.
He was actually quite brilliant. Grand schemes and plans bubbled forth from him in a seemingly endless fountain of cleverness. On top of everything else, he was an utterly devoted husband and a proud father of three.
Too bad he was such a screwup, she thought fondly. The downside of Merrick was that something inevitably went wrong whenever he tried to implement his great ideas. In the years since he had married her sister, Rowena, he’d had at least a dozen jobs, tried three times to start his own business, and lost a lot of money in the stock market.
Definitely a screwup, but he was family. That made him her screwup.
After her initial jerk of surprise, a fatalistic sense of resignation went through her.
“What are you doing here, Merrick?”
“Kind of obvious, isn’t it?” He smiled his slightly canted smile, the one that curved a little more on the right than it did on the left and made his eyes crinkle slightly. “I came here to find you, Lizzie. Since when are you into this film noir stuff, by the way?”
“I don’t believe this.” She swung all the way around to face him. “You followed me to Mirror Springs?”
“Just got here.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Been a long trip. Caught a red-eye to Denver and then had to rent a car and drive that damned mountain road. I thought I’d stop for some coffee here in town before I looked up the address of the place where you’re staying. Lucky I spotted you when I left the café. I was just on my way back to my car when I saw you standing here.”
She tightened her hands into fists inside the front pockets of her down coat. “How did you get my address here in Mirror Springs?”
“Called Louise. She gave it to me.”
“I’ll have to speak to Louise.”
“What the heck’s going on, Lizzie?” Merrick cocked his head. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past month. You didn’t return any of my calls. Then I arrive in Seattle and find out you’ve left town to attend a film festival, of all things. And what’s all this about you being here with some guy named Fairfax?”
Elizabeth sorted through the flood of questions and picked the one that had the simplest answer. “I am here with Jack Fairfax.”
Merrick’s red brows came together in a troubled frown. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone special these days.”
“You and I haven’t talked a lot lately, Merrick. We’ve both been busy.”
“Who is he?”
“Fairfax? Among other things, he’s the CEO of Excalibur Advanced Materials Research. The Aurora Fund has a heavy investment in the company.”
Merrick’s eyes widened in alarm. “You’re sleeping with a client?”
She ground her teeth. “I prefer not to use the phrase ‘sleeping with a client.’ Sounds tacky.”
“Geez, I’m sorry, Lizzie. It’s just that that kind of thing’s not your style. Sort of a shock to hear that you’re, uh, fooling around with a client.”
“He’s not exactly a client. Well, technically speaking, he is, I guess.” She angled her chin. “I prefer to think of him as a business partner.”
“Sure, sure, call him whatever you want. So what’s the deal? Is this serious? Rowena’s going to have a million questions when I tell her.”
“Merrick, I really don’t want to talk about this. My personal life is my own affair. Tell me what you want and then you can leave.”
He looked crushed. “You make it sound like I only come to see you when I want something.”
“We do seem to have our most intimate chats when you’re looking for someone to back one
of your projects.”
“That’s not the way it is, and you know it,” he said earnestly. “We’re family, Lizzie.”
“I know, I know.” She smiled ruefully. He was right. They were family. “What is it this time? I better warn you I’m not putting another dime into frozen methane hydrate technology. You can get methane out of the back end of a cow a lot cheaper than you can by drilling through the ocean floor.”
Merrick looked briefly distracted. A familiar light appeared in his blue eyes. “Methane hydrates are the fuel of the future, Lizzie. An enormous natural gas resource. That company I invested in was just a little ahead of its time, that’s all. Sometime in the next five years someone will make that drilling technology financially viable.”
“I think I can wait.”
“Actually, that wasn’t why I tracked you down,” he said quickly. “I want to talk to you about this computer security lock idea I’ve got. It’s a completely new approach. Mechanical instead of a software design, see? What’s more, it’s perfect for the new light-based technology.”
“Excuse me, Merrick.” She stood on tiptoe to peer over his broad shoulder. “You’re standing in my way.”
She spotted Vicky emerging from the doorway of the clothing boutique. Sunlight glinted on the actress’s dark glasses as she turned and walked along the sidewalk to a white Porsche parked at the curb.
“I’ve got a business plan this time, Lizzie,” Merrick continued. “I’ve also talked to some computer guys. Real hackers and crackers. They say my idea looks good. But I need some backing—”
“I’m a little busy at the moment, Merrick.”
“I’ll lay it on the line.” He drew himself up. “We both know my track record is not real good. I’ve got nowhere else to turn. You’re my only hope.”
“Uh-huh.” Elizabeth started to edge around him. “Call me when I get back to Seattle, okay?”
Down the street Vicky got into her white Porsche and pulled away from the curb.
“Damn,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Lizzie?” Merrick frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Elizabeth contemplated running back to where she had parked her own car and following the other woman. But that did not sound promising. Vicky was probably on her way home.
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