“I just want to look at the records of my Maxprotem trials being conducted here. I don’t care about seeing anything else. Come on, man, I’ll make it worth your while. Anyway, it’s cold out here. The lady is freezing.” Harper obliged by rubbing her hands together and putting them under her armpits. Finally, after Morgan handed over a hundred dollar bill, he reluctantly let them in.
Once they were inside, he showed them to a file room containing cabinets with the hard copies of the Maxprotem records, and then he showed them where the break room and coffeepot were located. He wasn’t about to let them have access to any of the computer terminals. While Morgan began to look through the cabinets, Harper brought him a cup of coffee.
* * * *
After the student went back to the animal labs to continue cleaning cages and whatever else his tasks entailed, Harper took the opportunity to look around the facility. She was particularly interested in where and how the medications given to the trial participants were stored. How did they receive the medication? They couldn’t all be local residents who just walked in and picked it up.
She found the mail room and storage room she had been looking for. There was no particular security, no palm plate or keypad on the door. She was amazed, but they probably thought the security at the gate was sufficient. After all, she didn’t think druggies would be interested in experimental medications they didn’t know the use of, but what did she know? Druggies would probably take anything they could put in their mouths or shoot up. It seemed just a little careless to her.
She found the boxes marked Maxprotem. The storage boxes and drug bottles were marked with different dosage strengths, but she could not tell which contained placebos and which contained the actual medications for the double-blind study. That was puzzling. How would they know what medications were being given to which participants? The pills all looked the same to her. They were all the same size, shape, and color and had the same markings. She took a sample bottle from each box and slipped them into her jacket pockets, leaving her gloves sticking out. Hopefully, the student wouldn’t notice the bulges. She put her hands back in her pockets and casually wandered back to the file room.
Morgan shook his head. “These look the same as the records we’ve been combing through at the office. Nothing jumps out at me.”
“Well, babe, let’s go then. I want breakfast, and I’m bored.” She rolled her eyes at him. Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. It was clear he was confused. “I want to get out of here. You promised me a good time this weekend.” She almost laughed as he frowned.
When they were in the car and had passed through the security gates, she emptied her pockets into her lap. He just looked at her in amazement.
“I was wondering how the drugs are distributed, but when I looked at them, I couldn’t tell the difference between them. How do they know which are placebos and which are the actual drugs? Shouldn’t there be some indication on the tablets themselves? I know my pills, even over-the-counter ones, have some distinguishing marks.”
“You’re right. They should be different colors and have markings or logos on them.”
“Can your lab guys check them out and see exactly what they are? What if the trial participants are not getting what you think they’re getting?”
“I think that would be a good idea. Give me the samples.” He pulled to the side of the road, got out of the car, and put the sample bottles in the rear storage compartment of the Escalade. When he got back in the car he said, “I was wondering why you were so bored all of a sudden. That was a brilliant idea. I knew I kept you around for something—besides the great sex.”
She punched him in the arm. Hard. “I’m good for lots of things besides great sex!” She was amazed at what she had just said. This was the first time she had ever had the confidence in herself to actually believe she was capable of great sex. Morgan was definitely having an effect on her self-confidence level, and wasn’t that wonderful.
* * * *
Morgan drove through a McDonalds for fresh cups of coffee and Egg McMuffins. That was not standard breakfast fare for either of them, but sometimes nothing else would do. He grinned at her as she dove into the fast food.
“This is a treat! I rarely get to have McDonald’s.”
“Stick with me, kid. This is a class operation.”
When they pulled into the barn’s parking area, two black heads poked out of open stall windows and greeted them with enthusiastic whinnies. Shadow and Ollie just always knew when he was there. He suspected that they recognized the sound of his car engine. But what was really amazing was they even knew it was him when he occasionally drove his Jaguar. He usually didn’t drive the Jaguar to the barn because it wasn’t practical should he need to pick something up at the feed or tack store. He liked the Escalade’s cargo area. Morgan walked over to the stalls and patted each of them in turn and then handed out the sugar-sweet baby carrots they loved.
“Wow. They look exactly alike. How do you tell them apart?”
“They’re the same size and have almost identical gaits, which makes them ideal for carriage driving. Just like kids, they have their own personalities. Shadow is the pushier of the two, and Ollie is more thoughtful. I follow the sport and admire the top drivers, but I haven’t got the time to pursue carriage driving on a professional level myself. I really enjoy amateur driving though. I love the antique carriages, the elegant tack, and most of all, the horses.”
Shadow and Ollie had been fed and groomed, so he led them from their stalls and harnessed them to the carriage.
“This is a marathon carriage, or a ‘war wagon.’ It’s a very tough vehicle, although not very elegant. It’s all steel pipe construction. It’s made for rough terrain. I could have called ahead and had my groom hitch them up, but it’s something I enjoy doing myself. It’s like flying a plane. The pilot, or driver, is responsible for the pre-flight or pre-drive safety check. This pair is perfectly balanced, in tune with each other and me, and a pleasure to drive.”
When Morgan had the horses hitched and had rechecked the harnesses, he helped Harper up onto the seat beside the driver. “That’s called the ‘suicide seat.’” He laughed at her shocked look as he pulled on his brown leather gloves, picked up his whip, and said, “You’re in charge of getting down and opening and closing gates for us.”
“That sounds fair. This is going to be so much fun.” She gave a happy little bounce.
They took off down the farm road and went out the back gate and down a country lane that wound through stands of trees and pastures. There was little traffic on the back road, and everyone seemed to know to give the carriage a wide berth. The bright-orange triangle on the back, indicating a slow farm vehicle, helped with that.
“I wish I had the time to get into this more seriously.”
“This all looks pretty serious to me. I’ve never ridden in a carriage before, except of course for our horse-drawn carriage ride in Montréal. This is different.”
“Some people compete in CDEs—combined driving events—up to an international level. I will occasionally compete in a marathon, but I really don’t have the time to put in to the training that would be required to compete in driven dressage. So, we usually just end up going for a Sunday drive in the country. The marathon involves hazards like galloping through water obstacles and complicated fence constructions that are called gates. It’s done mostly at high speed, and the negotiation of the different gates and hazards are timed. Basically, it’s a race, but if you go either too fast or two slow, or your team knocks things down, you get penalized. The guys love it.”
“I can see why. It must be fun for them, too.”
“When I think of all the beautiful carriages that were burned on bonfires after the advent of the automobile,” he said, shaking his head. “So many beautiful vehicles were lost forever because people just wanted the newest thing. Now the antique buggies are worth a fortune.”
* * * *
Harper was enjoying the warmth of the sun
on her shoulders and the stiff breeze as the team trotted on smartly. Morgan stopped at an intersection, checked traffic before he urged the horses forward, and turned on to the dirt lane. As they were passing under a canopy of oak trees, Morgan and Harper were startled by a squirrel that fell out of a tree and landed on Ollie’s back.
“Oh…my God!”
“It’s okay,” Morgan said as he urged the team forward, and the squirrel slid to the ground and took off.
“I thought they would spook for sure. They deserve every carrot they get today. My heart is pounding a mile a minute.”
“You never know what’s around the next bend—or up in the trees for that matter. They’re a really steady team. Take a deep breath and relax. Once I had a black snake cross the path and go right between their legs. I thought for sure I had bought the farm that time, but they just went forward.”
“It’s an adventure all right.” Harper was relieved when her pulse settled down. Squirrels, snakes—she was happy to be the passenger and not the driver, although she had to admit it did look like fun.
“If you think this is wild, just be glad you’re not my groom hanging off the back of the carriage while we negotiate a cross-country marathon course. That can get crazy.”
After they had driven for about an hour, Harper thought the territory seemed familiar. She hopped down off the carriage and opened a farm gate for the team. When they had driven through, she closed it again and got back onto the seat. She was surprised to find that they were driving back into the barnyard. She reached over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for taking me for a drive. That was really great—squirrel and all.”
* * * *
Despite the relaxing carriage drive, Morgan’s mind was running a mile a minute. It was all he could do to keep from rushing back to New York with the Maxprotem samples. Since it was Saturday, short of calling some of his staff back into the lab, there was nothing he could do until Monday morning. He might as well relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend. He couldn’t believe neither he nor his security staff had thought to check the actual medications being dispensed in the trial. It really did pay to get a fresh pair of eyes on the situation, and Harper’s eyes were sharp as well as fresh.
He hadn’t seen his older sister and twin nine-year-old nieces, Allison and Addison—Allie and Addie for short—for over a month. He adored the girls, all three of them, but frankly, they exhausted him. He knew Melanie would want to grill him about Harper the minute she could get him alone, and there was just something about being questioned by his “big” sister that put his teeth on edge. Always had, always would. It was one of the great truths of life. She was only three years older than him, but she was as bossy now as she had ever been where he was concerned. His parents had loved to tell the story of the day their brought their little baby boy home from the hospital. Melanie had looked into the crib and said, “Mine.” She had viewed him as belonging to her then, and ever since. Big sisters were a pain in the butt, and that didn’t change at this age.
Morgan knew they had been spotted when Allie and Addie came tearing out of the barn. “We came to ride, and Shadow and Ollie were gone, Uncle Morgan,” Allie said suspiciously. She gave him the fish eye, as though he should have asked her first and his motives were extremely suspect.
“That’s right, buglet, I took them for a drive. My friend, Harper, wanted to meet them. Harper, these are my nieces, Allie, aka buglet, and Addie, aka muglet. They’re nine. Girls, this is my friend, Harper. Say hi nicely, and I might let you get up on the guys after I’ve unhitched.”
“Hi, Miss Harper,” two high-pitched little-girl voices chorused. They smiled at her, but he could see the glint of suspicion behind their eyes. These little dark-haired, dark-eyed apples had not fallen far from his sister’s tree.
“Hi, girls. It’s lovely to meet you. We’ve just warmed Shadow and Ollie up for you.” Harper gave them a big, friendly smile.
They were joined by the adult version of the two munchkins, who also had a suspicious gleam in her eye. “Harper, this is my sister, Melanie Stephens. Mel, this is my friend, Harper Cameron.”
“Oh, the lawyer. I have to admit, I had wardrobe envy a few times during the trial. It would have been nice to get some news that wasn’t about your clothing choices, or worse, your Manolos and Christians.”
“I completely agree. It was hard on me, too. I had to keep ahead of the fashion police every day, and I couldn’t repeat any outfits. All that antitrust stuff was just an aside.” She laughed, and suddenly Melanie broke into a smile as well.
“It’s nice to meet you. Morgan, if I had known you were coming out this morning, I would have brought the girls out this afternoon.”
“Well, Mel, I was hoping to see you all and take you to lunch, after the girls ride, of course.” Her smile widened some more. He could see the cogs turning. He hadn’t had thirty-nine years of experience reading that face for nothing. “Let me unhitch, and we’ll get them up. I can see they’re itching to ride.” He reached up to help Harper down from the carriage and made sure to let her body slide down along his. He gave her a quick but thorough kiss and watched over Harper’s shoulder as Melanie’s eyes narrowed. Well, being a “little” brother had its perks as well, and he just loved to yank her chain.
“Mom, Mom! Uncle Morgan is kissing Miss Harper—just like Daddy kisses you,” Allie cried with delight, as though imparting great news. “Mommy and Daddy kiss a lot.”
Oh, payback is a wonderful thing. “Do they really, buglet? That’s nice to know.” He grinned at Melanie as she blushed a pretty pink.
Morgan got the team unhitched, rubbed down their backs, and threw the girls’ English saddles on. He had them bridled, cinched, and ready to ride within a few minutes while Allie and Addie watched excitedly.
“Hurry up, Uncle Morgan!” Allie was the more impatient of the two.
He led first one horse and then the other over to the mounting block and helped each niece mount. When they had settled in their saddles, adjusted their reins, and positioned their feet in the stirrups at just the right angle, he walked over to the round pen and opened the gate for them. They looked adorable with their hair pulled back in loose French braids, from which their wavy black hair was already escaping. They wore matching outfits of tan English riding britches, paddock boots, pink polo shirts, riding gloves, and black velvet helmets. When the gate of the round pen was safely closed, he rejoined his sister and Harper on the rail to watch the girls circle around, first at a walk, and then at a posting trot. He had to admit they were getting good little seats and had gained more confidence since he had last seen them ride. Of course, Shadow and Ollie knew they had precious cargo aboard and were on their best behavior. Morgan smiled. Horses just seemed to know the difference between a young rider and an adult, and they adjusted their gaits and attitudes to suit.
When the girls had finished their warm-ups, practiced their figure eights and serpentine patterns, and jumped a few small X jumps, Morgan helped them dismount and turned the two now-tired horses over to his groom to be hosed down and put up with fat pads of hay.
“Girls, give Shadow and Ollie their carrots and apples, and let’s go to lunch.” By the time he had rounded up and hustled the two women and two girls into the car, they were all hungry and ready for lunch. “Where to? The Maidstone Club? Or would you rather go someplace else?”
“I know the girls would prefer something not quite so stuffy, Morgan.”
“What you mean is that my darling nieces don’t want to behave like little ladies at the Maidstone, and would rather behave like wild Indians at Chuck E. Cheese’s, correct?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. I love the girls, but I won’t put myself through that!”
She grinned at him and turned to Harper. “He just likes to yank my chain. I don’t let him get to me.”
* * * *
They finally settled on the Italian café in the village. The girls devoured plates of spagh
etti and meatballs, and the adults enjoyed lasagna, eggplant parmesan, and veal parmesan with huge plates of salad, garlic bread, and a carafe of red wine. Everyone was relaxing in the warm ambiance of the café when Melanie gave Harper a speculative look and said, “So, how long have you been dating my brother?”
Harper looked like she had been cornered by a mama bear. She laughed and said, “I don’t know that we’re dating exactly.”
Morgan interrupted quickly. “We certainly are. To answer your question, Mel, a few weeks, but I’ve been trying to get her attention for over a year.” He smiled warmly at Harper, and Melanie could see the affection in his eyes. She could read her baby brother like a book. This was serious, and she was glad for him.
Melanie thought Harper looked astonished and not a little nervous, and she took pity on her. “Don’t look so worried, Harper. I really don’t bite, despite what my dear baby brother might tell you—maybe just snap a little.” She grinned. “I think it’s about time he settled into a good relationship. I would love to see him happy and content.”
“Come on, Mel. Give the girl a break. I don’t think she’s ready for the inquisition.”
Morgan sent the girls off with a pocket full of quarters to play the video games at the back of the room. The adult conversation turned to politics and the judicial system, and that lead to a discussion of the antitrust litigation. Morgan explained what he and Harper were beginning to suspect about the Maxprotem trials, and he told Melanie about the samples Harper had liberated from the lab. Melanie looked at Harper with a new level of respect in her eyes. “I’m impressed. You’ve got some nerves of steel, girl. Congratulations! Let me know what comes of it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was late afternoon before Morgan and Harper had dropped Melanie and the girls off at the barn and headed back to the beach house. He was looking forward to a quiet Saturday evening at home with Harper. He parked the Escalade in the driveway and said, “How about a walk on the beach, and then we can call for Chinese and watch a movie in bed. What do you say?”
Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 12