Ben's Wife

by Charlotte Douglas

  “My father is—was chief chemist for Chemco Industries. He died in last week’s fire.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice rang with sympathy. “Frank was a good man. And a good friend. I’ve been away, so I don’t know details of the accident.”

  So Josh had been her father’s friend. That fact eased her shivering, until she realized her father had never mentioned anyone named Josh. She shook off her misgivings. Regrettably, she had spent so little time with her dad, she knew almost nothing about his personal life.

  “Will you answer a question?” she asked.

  “If I can.”

  “Why all this cloak-and-dagger business, midnight meetings, concealed identities?”

  He crossed to a window and peered out, checking the path, the only approach to the cottage. Apparently satisfied for the moment that no one had followed her, he resumed his seat in the shadows. The chair springs creaked, another indication of his commanding size.

  “I’ve conducted investigations for Ben for years,” he said, “and his partner and employees at the plant know me. Ben wants to keep this inquiry secret, so I’ll stay out of sight. Even better, let everyone believe I’m still out of town.”

  The sensible explanation lessened her anxiety. “Ben said I’m to tell you everything, hold nothing back.”

  “Start with the accident at Chemco,” he prodded gently, as if aware of the pain the subject caused.

  “Ben says it wasn’t an accident.”

  Stillness settled on the room. Outside, the sea breeze strengthened, rustling the creeping vines that blankcted the house and scraping branches of Austrahan pine against the windows. A cloud drifted across the moon, deepening the darkness.

  “What makes Ben think the fire wasn’t an accident?” Josh’s level voice was void of emotion.

  “Robert Lashner.”

  “Ben’s partner?”

  She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her response. “Yes.”

  “How is Lashner involved in this?”

  “Robert Lashner was ecstatic about my father’s most recent discovery. Shortly before he died, Dad invented a compound that can replace fossil fuels.”

  Josh emitted a low whistle of surprise. “Such a find would virtually eliminate the need for gasoline.”

  Morgan remembered her father’s excited phone call the evening of his discovery. It was the last time she’d spoken with him. “Not only would the inexpensive compound end the drain on natural resources, it could also change the balance of economic and political power in the world. Access to oil would no longer be a trump card.”

  “Pretty potent stuff.”

  “Too potent. According to Ben, after his initial breakthrough, my father made an additional finding. The compound exhibits extreme instability and volatility under certain circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?”

  The strangeness of this midnight meeting with a man she had yet to view face-to-face unsettled her, but, determined to keep her promise to act as Ben’s emissary, she resisted an overpowering compulsion to bolt out the door.

  “What makes the compound unsafe?” Josh asked again.

  She grasped the arms of her chair and concentrated on her mission. “Dad couldn’t pinpoint which factors caused the instability. They fluctuated from one experiment to another. He explained to Ben that the product was unsafe and therefore worthless.”

  “Frank couldn’t correct the formula?”

  “Ben said no matter what adjustments Dad made, he couldn’t guarantee the product’s stability. Under test situations, it exploded at least eight percent of the time. Dad intended to recommend that the board of directors reject the product.”

  She stared into the darkness, accustomed now to the gloom. Moonlight outlined Josh’s broad shoulders, the strong column of his neck, long legs stretched out before him and crossed casually at the ankles, and the bulk of what appeared to be a holstered gun at his hip. A rock-solid man, the type she would want on her side if trouble came. His aura of strength piqued her imagination and agitated her overstimulated senses. She craved an extended look at him in good light.

  “So your father was going to nix the compound,” he said. “Go on.”

  The darkness concealed her flush of embarrassment at being caught musing again.

  “The night of the fire,” she said, “Ben was working late. He received a call from my father, asking him to meet him at the lab. By the time Ben arrived, the lab was engulfed in flames. Ben grabbed a fire extinguisher and fought his way through to Dad.”

  Sorrow obstructed her voice, and she swallowed hard in order to continue. “Dad wasn’t breathing, so Ben performed CPR. My father revived only long enough to warn Ben that Lashner had set the fire in an attempt to kill them both.”

  “Why would Lashner want to kill his own, partner and his best chemist?”

  “So he could convince the board to sell the compound’s formula, without opposition from Dad or Ben, and reap the profits.”

  In telling the story, Morgan confronted the harsh reality of her father’s death for the first time. Her dad was gone. She would never see his smile, hear him laugh or feel his hugs again. Tears she had been unable to shed at the funeral ran down her cheeks, and in spite of her effort to suppress them, sobs racked her.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled through her weeping, “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Go ahead and cry.” His tenderness intensified her tears. “Let it all out. You’ll feel better.”

  She ached for the reassuring heat of flesh and blood, a living barrier against the unbearable desolation and pain. The loss of her father, her only living relative, had left her completely alone.

  As if recognizing her need, Josh rose from his chair, lifted her against the warm hardness of his chest and stroked her hair. She yielded to the solace of his embrace and, as her crying eased, noted the paradox of his gentle response and tough demeanor.

  Confronting a paradox of her own, she broke away from his seductive closeness while longing to remain in the comfort of his arms. She choked back a hysterical laugh. Grief had undoubtedly made her crazy.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  Afraid to trust her voice, she nodded.

  He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. Moonlight glittered in his dark eyes.

  “Blow.”

  She did as he said, then returned to her chair and focused on her assignment to distract herself from the magnetism of his looming closeness.

  Ben had been specific in his instructions, even though she’d seen little of him during the week she’d spent in his home. Confined to a wheelchair, his burns swathed in bandages that covered his face and hands, he had slept most of the week. Dark glasses shielded his injured eyes. Because of his damaged lungs, he required an oxygen mask and found talking exhausting. In his attempt to save her father, he had. paid a terrible price.

  Painstakingly, over a period of days, a few minutes at a time, Ben had provided bits and pieces of the story she now related to Josh.

  “Ben,” she said, “was terribly injured in the blaze. That’s why your help is so important to him.”

  “Has he gone to the police with his suspicions?” Josh’s voice displayed none of the inner turmoil he made her feel. The man’s ability to squelch emotion must make him a cool and effective investigator.

  “Without proof? Lashner knew how to stage a chemical mishap. According to the arson investigators, the physical evidence supports an accidental explosion and fire. Ben, through Dad’s dying declaration, knows better. That’s why he needs you. And me.”

  He retreated to his chair. “Don’t tell me you’re an investigator, too.”

  “No.” The idea made her smile. “But as Frank Winters’s daughter, I can search dad’s home and office and question his associates without raising suspicions.”

  “What about Ben? If Lashner really wants him dead, he won’t stop now.”

  Her heart hammered at the possibility. Impres
sed by Ben’s courage and selflessness, she had developed a deep affection for her father’s friend. “Ben has had reports circulated that his injuries are life-threatening and he’s not expected to live. He figures Lashner will wait to see if he dies before taking the trouble to kill him.”

  “Isn’t that risky?”

  “I tried to convince him to leave the country until you can discover the proof he needs, but he refuses. He says between his state-of-the-art security system and Harper’s presence, he’s perfectly safe at home.”

  Harper, Ben’s enormous and silent valet, had driven her to this rendezvous and waited for her now at the head of the path.

  “Do you believe Ben’s on the level?” Josh asked.

  The question stunned and angered her. “He was my father’s best friend, as well as his boss. And from the time I’ve spent with him, I’d swear to his integrity. But why am I telling you this? You know him better than I do.”

  “Just checking,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I need to know where your loyalties lie.”

  “My loyalties!” Indignation forced her to her feet. “You can’t believe I’d come to this godforsaken place in the middle of the night to confer with a complete stranger if I didn’t intend to help Ben?”

  He strode across the room, grasped her by the shoulders and thrust his face close to hers. Her mutinous senses leaped at his touch. “Ben believed Lashner, his mentor and partner, was loyal. That trust almost got him killed.”

  He sounded tough, but she could sense the compassion beneath his hard-boiled veneer. Unafraid, she tilted her face toward his. “I’m not Lashner.”

  “No.” His grasp eased, and a peculiar softness filled his voice. “But be careful whom you trust. Your life could depend on it.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight.” She twisted from his grasp before she succumbed to her desire to have him hold her again. “Lashner killed my father. I’ll do anything to see that he’s punished.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything that doesn’t harm someone else in the process.” She laid her hand on his forearm, bridging the gap she’d forced between them. Her blood warmed with the heat rising from the corded muscles beneath her fingers.

  “We can’t catch Lashner if we don’t work together,” she said in a conciliatory tone, “and we can’t work together if you won’t trust me.”

  He covered her hand with his, and his grip consoled her. The moment lengthened, vibrating in the silence of the lightless room, and she longed to see his face.

  “I have to trust you.” A curious huskiness roughened his tone. “And you mustn’t forget that Ben’s life, and mine, hinge on that trust”

  She staggered, overwrought with grief and the weariness of countless sleepless nights. Her father’s untimely death, her car crash, Ben’s strange revelations during the past week, and now this remarkable encounter with a stranger who inexplicably roused her senses all bore down on her.

  She retreated to her chair and swallowed the last of her coffee. Disregarding her frayed nerves, she concentrated on her purpose. Ben had urged her to keep nothing from Josh.

  “There’s something else you need to know,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “My father took part of his pension and all his bonuses from Chemco Industries in stock. His will leaves everything to me.”

  “How much stock are you talking about?”

  “Enough to swing a majority of votes to either Ben or Lashner.”

  “So if Lashner purchased your stock, he’d have the clout to order Chemco to sell the compound’s formula?”

  The man was quick. No wonder Ben had such confidence in him. “Exactly. And without my votes, Ben won’t have enough to stop him.”

  Silence reigned momentarily in Josh’s corner of the room. “You could make yourself a bundle by selling to the highest bidder.”

  She stiffened at the insult. “Lashner murdered my father! Besides, he knows I’ll honor my father’s wishes to keep the compound off the market” She exhaled a deep breath. “That’s why Lashner tried to kill me, too.”

  “When?” His simple question lacked surprise. Maybe Ben had told him of the attempt on her life. Or maybe Josh had already guessed what Lashner’s reaction would be.

  “Immediately after my father’s funeral, my car was broadsided by a hit-and-run driver. Except for side air bags, I’d be dead now. Ben believes Lashner was behind the attempt”

  Josh cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to sound indelicate, but what would have happened to your stock if your collision had been fatal?”

  “It would have been tied up in probate for a year or more, long enough for Lashner to garner enough votes from the other directors to override Ben’s objections to selling the compound’s formula.”

  “So you’ve sold your stock to Ben?”

  “No, he didn’t ask to buy it. But I’ve guaranteed that Lashner can’t tie it up if anything happens to me.”

  “How?” This time, he sounded astonished.

  “Please, don’t mention this to Ben.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t told him yet.” She hesitated. Could she trust Josh? According to Ben, she had no choice. “Today I instructed my lawyer to place the stock in an irrevocable living trust for my husband.”

  “Husband? You’re married?”

  “I assumed Ben told you,” she said with feigned nonchalance. “I married him yesterday.”

  Chapter Two

  “Everything’s clear. Looks like no one followed you.”

  Josh surveyed the moonlit grounds through the exposed window, then pulled the shade and drew the curtains. After shielding the other windows, he switched on a small lamp on the table beside Morgan.

  Because his life depended on her loyalty and truthfulness, he had to observe her face. Only the most practiced liars could hide their deception from a trained observer. Frank Winters had been his friend and had always spoken highly of his daughter, but parental love was sometimes blind. Josh needed to confirm his gut feeling that Morgan could be trusted.

  For a clearer view of her responses, he dragged a straight chair opposite her and straddled it, slowly, deliberately, leaning his forearm on the ladder back.

  The roomy armchair engulfed her slender body, clad in a crisp white blouse, fitted jeans and sneakers. The contrast of her small frame to the huge chair emphasized her vulnerability and activated a deep, empathetic response. He forced the tender feelings away. Succumbing to sentiment could impair his instincts and get him killed.

  Her, too, if she was on the level.

  Morgan’s eyes, the deep, tranquil blue of an October sky and wide with fright, focused on him with fierce intensity. Her apprehension, at least, was honest. Someone had murdered her father and was now after her. Only a fool would experience no fear in those circumstances.

  The woman’s succinct questions and articulate explanations proved she was no fool.

  He assessed her closely in the lamplight. With shoulder-length hair the color of champagne, an oval face and a roses-and-cream complexion marred only by a tiny, almost-healed scratch above her left eye, Morgan Winters resembled a Renaissance painting of an angel come to life.

  He grimaced at the irony. Whether her personality matched her angelic exterior, only time would tell.

  Heat, kindled by her beauty, flared deep in his groin, producing a definitely unangelic response. Recalling Frank Winters’s horrible death cooled his desire. He couldn’t afford distractions.

  “You married Ben yesterday?” He pressed her to gauge her reactions. “Kind of sudden, wasn’t it? I mean, he’s never mentioned you before.”

  Her shoulders stiffened in defense. “We met the day of my father’s funeral.”

  He lifted his brows and whistled. “You are a fast worker.”

  Blue flames danced in her eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

  “That you’re an opportunist? That Ben Wells is a very wealthy man?” With reluctance, he
pushed his attack, in spite of her cringing at his words. “That, if he doesn’t die from his current injuries, they could drastically shorten his life, making his widow a very wealthy woman?”

  “Marrying me was Ben’s idea.”

  “Yeah, right. What does Wells have to gain from marrying you?”

  An enchanting shade of pink crept from the open neckline of her shirt to her hairline. “We’ve agreed our marriage is in name only.”

  “A marriage of convenience? Without connubial bliss?”

  Her blush deepened, causing him well-deserved discomfort at his frank questions.

  But he couldn’t stop now. He had to determine exactly where she stood. “So what’s in it for Ben?”

  “My stock’s voting rights.”

  “You said he didn’t ask to buy your stock.”

  She shook her head, and a strand of golden hair tumbled across her forehead and over one eye. He resisted the urge to brush it back.

  Combing her hair off her face with her fingers, she inclined her chin and glared at him. “According to my father’s will, I couldn’t exercise my voting privileges, or sell my stock, until after I was married.”

  “I didn’t know Frank was so old-fashioned.”

  “The stock restrictions were his way of trying to protect me.”

  “So by marrying you,” he said, “Ben enables you to vote, hopefully in his favor.”

  “I’ve already told you I would vote with Ben,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He pushed her further. “What do you gain from this farce of a marriage, besides Ben’s fortune?”

  “Ben’s fortune is safe. I signed a prenuptial agreement.” She averted her eyes, and confusion fluttered briefly across her delicate features before she faced him again. “You don’t trust me. Why?”

  Josh silently tallied the reasons. He knew almost nothing about Morgan except what her father had told him. Regardless of her spur-of-the-moment marriage, Morgan owed no loyalty to Ben Wells. If Lashner offered to buy her votes and dangled big bucks and a promise of posthumous fame for Frank Winters for discovering the compound, Josh couldn’t be sure how she’d react. Especially if Lashner’s deal included sparing her life. However, Josh wasn’t about to give her any ideas by sharing his misgivings.