by Andrea Kane
“Sounds like a great way to find your niche. Where’d you end up?”
“In none of them,” Blake returned drily. “No surprise. I’ve never been content with what is. I’m always envisioning what could be.”
“So you started something new?”
“Yup. Food services addresses the en masse crowds that go to sporting arenas. Fine dining addresses the limited, elite crowd who have sophisticated palates and deep pockets. That leaves a huge chunk of the population unaddressed—namely, families.”
“I see your point.”
Blake rolled his goblet between his palms. “I’m starting up a whole new division. Family dining.” He proceeded to explain Chomping at the Bit and where things stood on the project.
Even though Devon had read the basics in Monty’s notes, it was far more interesting hearing it from Blake’s perspective. “It sounds like a surefire winner,” she said sincerely. “The kids will be thrilled. The parents will be thrilled. Soon you’ll have restaurants all over the country. And the coffers at Pierson & Company will be even fuller.”
“That’s the plan.” A shadow flickered across his face. “At least it was. Right now, expansions are on hold. Other priorities trump them.”
“You’re talking about Frederick’s death.”
“Yes. His death leaves a gaping hole at Pierson & Company.”
That opened the door. Devon stepped through it carefully.
“I can’t imagine how debilitating this tragedy must be for you. Your personal and professional worlds, both thrown into chaos.”
“That pretty much sizes it up.”
“Did you report directly to Frederick?”
“Yes. But that’s the least of it. Besides being CEO, Frederick headed up the food-services division. I’ve been tapping into their resources—suppliers, contacts—anything to get Chomping at the Bit off the ground. With Frederick gone…let’s just say the situation’s bound to become complicated.”
Something in Blake’s tone made Devon press on. “Complicated how? I’m sure you can still access those contacts. Unless someone’s standing in your way,” she added, verbalizing her hunch as it dawned on her. “Someone like James, for instance.”
Blake shot her a sideways look. “Now that’s a loaded question. What exactly did you and James discuss last night?”
“Lots of things. Including you.” Now was the time for wary candor. “He said you’d be running Pierson someday, and that he’s fine with that. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sense some underlying resentment. Or maybe ‘resentment’s’ too strong a word.”
“No, I’d say it’s dead-on accurate.” Clearly, Blake wasn’t bothered by her assessment. “James is a good salesman and an exceptional rider. But he’s not great at sharing the limelight. He has a problem with my place at Pierson. How big a problem? Who knows. Especially now that his insecurities are being fed by my interest in you.”
“Great.” Devon grimaced. “I don’t want to escalate the tension.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can handle James. And he can handle me.”
“He said something similar.”
“What else did you two talk about?”
“The usual stuff. Work. Family. Oh, and the cutthroat world of competitive show jumping.”
“What business isn’t cutthroat? Mine’s just as bad.”
“Well, mine isn’t. It’s rewarding, humane, and honest. Maybe that’s why I like animals better than people.”
A corner of Blake’s mouth lifted. “Makes sense.”
“You, on the other hand, like being on the fast track.”
“If wanting every day to be a challenge is the fast track, then I’m on it.”
Devon took a sip of wine, deciding which road to take. She couldn’t just grill him about his family and/or Philip Rhodes. He’d see through that in an instant.
Maybe a one-eighty would catch him off guard.
“You’re a cut-to-the chase kind of guy,” she stated.
A wry grin. “You noticed.”
“It’s hard not to. You aren’t exactly subtle.”
“If you’re referring to my approach with you, subtle wasn’t what I was going for.”
“What were you going for?”
“Convincing. Is it working?”
“That depends.” She leaned forward, scrutinizing his expression. “Is your interest in me genuine, or is it put on so you can figure out if I know more than I’ve admitted about my mother’s whereabouts?”
A prolonged pause, during which Blake set down his goblet. “And you think I’m direct?”
“Fine. We’re both direct. Now, are you going to answer my question?”
“We’re also both loyal to our families.”
“Is that your way of intimating that you’re in this to spy for your grandfather?”
“And you? Are you here to pump me for information to share with your father? I’m sure you’re well aware of his role at Pierson.”
He was turning the tables on her, trying to turn her offense into a defense.
She had no intention of letting him.
“I know that Monty is your new head of security,” she responded without hesitation. “And I know he’ll bust his tail to find my mother. What else is it I’m supposed to know?”
“You tell me.”
“Frankly? My father and I aren’t exactly tight. He doesn’t confide in me. But if I know one thing, it’s that he’s a crackerjack investigator. If he’s working on solving Frederick’s murder, he’ll solve it. Your turn. Because you and your grandfather are close. Which means it’s far more likely you’re doing his bidding.”
“I don’t do anyone’s bidding. Not even my grandfather’s. However, you should know he’s stubborn as a mule. So, if your mother was in any way involved in Frederick’s death, he’ll find out—and he’ll find her, wherever she is.”
Devon set down her goblet with a thud. “My mother is not a killer.”
“Maybe not. But she did go up to that cabin with Frederick. Which means she’s the only living witness to the crime.”
“She didn’t witness anything.” Despite her rising anger, Devon realized she was being baited. “My father’s the one who spoke to her,” she continued, choosing her words carefully. “From what he said, she never saw the killer. Unfortunately, he saw her. Which is why she dropped out of sight, and why we’re all beside ourselves with worry.”
“I’m sorry for what you’re going through. But you can’t blame my grandfather for leaving no stone unturned. Frederick was his son.”
“I know. But the idea that my mother was in any way involved is insane. She’s the kindest, gentlest human being on earth.”
“From my own observations, she’s also down-to-earth and outdoorsy. Not really Frederick’s type.”
“As opposed to whom—Louise Chambers? I agree. Although I really can’t visualize your corporate counsel hiking in the Adirondacks. Still, I was surprised your uncle didn’t ask her, rather than my mother, to go with him. Unless, of course, Louise is unavailable to him now because she’s seeing someone else. You, for example.”
A glint of amusement lit Blake’s amber eyes. “Nice shot. Unfortunately, not a slam dunk. Why would you think Louise and I are involved?”
“She was on your arm when we met. The vibes were there. Am I wrong?”
“Yeah, but I like the fact that you’re jealous. It bodes well for what I have in mind.”
Devon sidestepped the innuendo. “Next you’re going to be telling me that you and Louise Chambers are ‘just friends.’”
“Hmm.” Blake considered the idea and shrugged. “Nope. We’re not that, either. We’re just good, old-fashioned business colleagues. So tell me, did James get a good-night kiss? Or did you send him away with a handshake?”
“Excuse me?” Devon started. “That’s none of your business.”
“Ah. My social life’s your business, but yours isn’t mine? Or were you asking about me and Louise for another re
ason?”
Devon gave a hard shake of her head. This battle of wits was turning into something as challenging and blood pumping as their snowball fight.
“Another reason?” she returned. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Checking out alliances and alibis, maybe.”
“Why? Do you have any to share?”
“Not a one. Now that we’ve settled that, let’s get back to James. Did you or didn’t you kiss him?”
Half laughing, half-exasperated, Devon waved an imaginary white flag. “Okay. I give. Just be advised that I’m not a good loser.”
“Then I’ll quit while I’m ahead.” Abruptly, Blake stood, tugging her to her feet. “I want you in a good mood. Otherwise, you might slug me when I do this.” He drew her closer, tilted back her head, and covered her mouth with his.
It was meant to be an overture, an initial exploration of the physical attraction that sizzled between them.
The overture never happened. The kiss was out of control before it began.
Their lips brushed, circled—then fused, currents of sensation barreling through them. Blake muttered something indistinguishable and tore his mouth away, scrutinizing Devon with a burning gaze. Then he gave up the fight. He hauled her against him, nudged her lips apart, and took her mouth.
Devon was trembling, inside and out. She couldn’t begin to think, much less object. And the truth was, she wanted to do neither. What she was feeling was just too damned good. Resistance wasn’t an option.
She gave a low moan of pleasure, gripping handfuls of Blake’s sweater and following his lead.
The kiss took on a life of its own.
Like Blake, it was consuming, his mouth eating at hers, possessing her with an intensity that swirled through her in dizzying waves. His tongue swept inside, rubbing against hers in slow, erotic circles. His arms locked around her, drawing her closer, deeper into the wildness.
Long moments passed. The kiss went on and on, growing more heated, more intense, like a wildfire blazing out of control.
Devon wasn’t sure who grabbed hold of reality first. One minute the two of them were locked together, the next they were an arm’s length apart, staring at each other with dazed eyes and ragged breathing.
“What was that?” Devon finally managed, running a shaky hand through her hair.
“I’m not sure.” Blake’s tone was husky, his expression as clouded as hers. “But whatever it was, it was about to move to my bedroom.”
“I know.” Devon wasn’t surprised by the realization. What surprised her was her reaction to it. “I don’t do this,” she supplied inanely.
“Yeah, I guessed. For what it’s worth, neither do I.”
She stepped backward, trying to put what had just happened into perspective. “Things like this don’t happen. Not in real life.”
A corner of Blake’s mouth lifted. “Apparently, they do.”
Unacceptable. Especially in light of what she was trying to accomplish for Monty, and for her mother.
“I’d better get home.” Devon blurted out the first mundane thing she could think of. She followed it up by glancing at her watch. It took three tries to actually make out what the dial said. “It’s almost one o’clock.”
Blake nodded his agreement. “I’ll get our jackets.”
“No.” Devon stopped him. “Just get mine. I’ll grab a taxi to Grand Central and take the train.”
“Not at this hour, you won’t. I’m driving you home, as planned.” Blake frowned, waving away the refusal she was about to utter. “Look, I understand you want to be alone. You’re freaked out. So am I. We both need space. And you can have yours—after I drop you off.”
He looked freaked out, too. And preoccupied as hell.
Idly, Devon wondered if the lip-lock they’d just shared had screwed up his agenda as much as it had hers.
“Okay,” she replied. The truth was, she was too frazzled to argue. Talk about complications. She’d just entangled herself in a huge one.
The problem was, she didn’t know if she really wanted to break free.
SALLY’S CALL CAME as promptly that night as on the two previous nights.
“Okay, now this is overkill,” Monty announced into the Bat Phone. “Plus, you tipped your hand. Punctuality’s great, but no one times their calls down to the second. You’re doing this to get a rise out of me.”
“Is it working?” Sally’s voice was stronger and clearer tonight.
“Sure is. My tail’s between my legs.”
Her laughter brushed his ear. “Now that’s an image. Anyway, no tail hanging necessary. Just a simple confession. Admit you’re lousy at time management. That’ll be enough to make my day.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll hire a different PI.”
Monty chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain. But, okay, I suck at time management. Happy?”
“It’s a start. Now tell me you’ve made some progress on figuring out who Frederick’s killer was.”
The banter vanished. “Some. I had an interesting talk with Louise Chambers today. She’s a real barracuda, and an operator. Wanted to know if I could be objective about Frederick’s murder, since the two of you were involved.”
A long pause. “Was she asking because she wanted to know how deep that involvement ran, or because she thinks I killed him?”
“In my opinion? She was trying to tip the scales in her favor. It didn’t work. I’m staying in her face. I don’t trust her.”
“You think she killed Frederick?”
“I doubt it. But I’m not ready to write her off as a suspect. She was tight with Frederick. Now she’s sniffing around Blake. The whole thing smells rotten.” Monty contemplated his own words. “Did Frederick ever mention Louise?”
“Not to me. I knew they had some kind of relationship. But whether it was all business, or business and personal, I’m not sure.” Sally hesitated, and Monty could picture her forehead creasing in thought. “I keep reviewing the day before the fire in my mind. The drive up was pleasant; no red flags. Frederick was himself. But later, as the evening wore on, he got quieter, more pensive. I assumed it was a reaction to my ambivalence. On the other hand, maybe it was related to whoever ended up killing him.”
Monty couldn’t bite back his question. “What ambivalence?”
“Oh, come on, Pete.” A sigh. “I don’t need to spell it out for you. Being up at Lake Luzerne was a lot harder than I expected. I guess I’m not as mature as I gave myself credit for.”
“When it comes to Lake Luzerne, neither am I.”
There was a long silence.
“I’m going to turn in now,” Sally said at last. “I’ll call tomorrow. Hopefully, you’ll have made a breakthrough. The sooner I can get back to my life, the better.”
“I’ll bust my ass to make that happen.”
“I know you will.”
Monty’s grip tightened on the phone. “Good night, Sal.”
“Good night, Pete.”
He stared reflectively at the phone before punching it off. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.
Then again, neither would Sally.
MONTY’S CELL PHONE rang.
He fumbled for the alarm clock on his night stand, and squinted at it. Three forty A.M. Shit.
It wasn’t the Bat Phone, so it wasn’t Sally. And Devon had checked in around two. So who the hell was it?
He snatched up the phone and punched it on. “Montgomery.”
“It’s Edward Pierson.” The older man’s voice was shaky. “He called.”
“Who did?”
“That son of a bitch who’s blackmailing me.”
Monty was suddenly and completely awake. “Tell me exactly what he said.”
“He told me to wire two million dollars to an account in the Cayman Islands. He gave me the number—and twenty-four hours. If I don’t come through, the people I care about will start getting hurt. The last part’s a direct quote.”
&nb
sp; “How did you respond?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t have a chance. He hung up.”
“You got this call at home. Interesting.”
“Why? Where else would he call at three thirty in the morning?”
“That’s not the point. It’s a snap to reach you at Pierson & Company. The number’s listed. Your home phone’s not.”
“Well, apparently he got it.”
“Actually, I’m wondering if he already had it. That would level the playing field in terms of where he called.”
“You think it’s a close acquaintance?”
“You tell me. Did you recognize the voice?”
“I couldn’t. He used one of those voice scramblers.”
“No surprise.” Monty’s wheels were turning. “Did you hear any background noise? Anything that might tell you where he was calling from?”
“A couple of honking horns.”
“Car horns or truck horns?”
“Car, I think.”
“What about road noise? Could you tell if the vehicles were traveling at high speed or low? Zipping along quietly, or rumbling heavily?”
“What difference does any of that make?”
“The difference between a city and a highway. Eighteen-wheelers make one kind of racket. Manhattan taxis make another.” Monty paused. “I’m assuming you didn’t tape the call?”
“I wasn’t expecting it, so no. The letter came to my office. I assumed he’d continue to contact me there. If he had, I would have been ready for him.”
“We’ll put a wiretap on your home phone. Not that it’ll do us much good. If he’s using a voice scrambler, he’s probably taking other precautions to make sure he can’t be made. Like a convenience store cell phone with prepaid minutes, cash and carry.”
Edward blew out a frustrated breath. “Twenty-four hours. Damn. There’s no way I can liquidate two million in assets fast enough.”
“Even if you could, you don’t know if that’ll make the extortionist shut up and go away. He could try shaking you down for more. Remember, once you pay him, you’re his.”
“So what do you suggest I do?”