Married To A Stranger

by Connie Bennett

  Tom shook his head. “Nope.”

  “He’s not going to be happy.”

  Tom made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “That doesn’t begin to cover it. Our friendly, neighborhood Secret Service agent wants this place locked down tighter than a drum before the President arrives, and he’s only got two weeks to do it.”

  Liz glanced down at her desk calendar, ignoring the bright red slashes that crossed off the last two weeks. “Actually it’s more like ten days—” she consulted her watch “—twenty-one hours and fourteen minutes.”

  Tom chuckled. “Don’t worry, Liz. We’ll survive this.”

  “Which one? Madeline Hopewell or the President of the United States?”

  “Both,” he replied.

  “This Hopewell thing is just such bad timing,” Liz moaned. “Luther has been turning this place upside down for weeks now, driving everyone crazy. We didn’t need even more pressure.”

  “But Luther’s security measures are going to work to our benefit with the Hopewell woman. Between my security details and Luther’s, it should be nearly impossible for any unauthorized persons to step foot on Jermain Island.”

  “What about authorized people, like guests?” Liz asked.

  “I’ve taken care of that, too, Liz,” he assured her. “The Secret Service has already done security checks on everyone whose reservations coincide with the President’s visit, and I’m doing computer background checks on everyone who’s made a reservation since you booked Adam Hopewell. Logically current guests and those who made reservations before Hope-well shouldn’t pose any threat, since no one could’ve known that he planned to bring his wife here. That eliminates ninety percent of the hotel’s guests as a potential threat.”

  Liz was impressed. Tom did, indeed, sound as though he had things under control. “That’s excellent, Tom.”

  “As my mother always said, ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,’” he quoted with a smile.

  Liz smiled, too. “I wish you’d been around to remind me of that when the White House called to ask if the Presidential Suite was available the last two weeks in June. I could have prevented a lot of major headaches with a simple, ‘No, sorry.’”

  He chuckled. “You don’t mean that.”

  “In my rational moments, I don’t mean it. If everything goes smoothly, the prestige and publicity we stand to gain will be worth a headache of any size, but on days like this I start to wish that the President had elected to spend his vacation down at Hilton Head.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen this year. You can’t create one of the most challenging golf courses in the U.S. and expect the world’s most famous golf fanatic to pass it up.”

  Liz rolled her eyes. “I might be more inclined to accept that rationale if the President was a decent golfer. Even with the help of his famous lucky towel he hasn’t played a par game since he took office.”

  Tom chuckled. “Don’t worry, Boss Lady, this will all be over in a few weeks and things can get back to normal.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  He frowned as a new thought occurred to him. “Liz, this business with the Hopewells doesn’t have anything to do with your reasons for canceling your weekend trip, does it?”

  The question clearly caught her off guard. “No, of course not. I just have too much to do to go away at a time like this.”

  Tom knew she was a busy woman, but he wasn’t sure he believed her excuse. She’d seemed a little distracted these past few days, and Tom wondered if it had anything to do with the love affair she was supposedly having with some mystery man on the mainland. Tom wasn’t convinced that he believed the rumor, which had been circulating even before he’d arrived at Bride’s Bay, but he did find it a little strange that Liz always refused to talk about where she’d been on her days off. Duke Masterson, who usually flew Liz off the island when she made these trips, had apparently been sworn to silence, because he refused to comment whenever anyone asked him where he took her.

  Now, though, Liz had canceled a trip, and despite her outward efficiency, Tom could tell that something was bothering her. He had to wonder if it was her mystery lover.

  “Are you sure it’s just business, Liz?” he asked her. “Because if there’s anything else wrong you know you can always talk to me.”

  For just a second Tom thought he saw a crack in Liz’s cool facade, but she sealed it quickly. “I’m fine, Tom, really. I just need a vacation, and I’m going to take one as soon as the President—”

  Liz’s intercom buzzed and Tom got the distinct impression she was relieved by the interruption. He started to rise as though to leave, but Liz waved him back into his seat. “No. I think I know what this is. You stay,” she ordered. “Yes?” she said into the phone.

  “Mr. Hopewell is here to see you, Liz,” the desk clerk informed her.

  “Send him right in.” Liz replaced the receiver and moved around her desk toward the door as she told Tom, “It’s Adam Hopewell. When he checked in this morning he asked for a meeting with me, and based on the phone conversations I’ve had with him, I’m certain he’s going to want to speak to you, as well. That’s one of the reasons I sent for you.”

  Displaying impeccable timing, Liz opened the door just as Adam reached it. “Please, come in, Mr. Hopewell,” she said, extending her hand for a brief but firm handshake that ushered him through the door. “I hope your wife got settled in comfortably.”

  “Yes, she did. Thank you.”

  “Good.” Liz gestured to Tom, who rose to meet the guest. “This is our chief of security, Thomas Graves.”

  “Mr. Graves. I’m glad you’re here.” Adam shook the man’s hand. “I assume you both know what I want to discuss.”

  “I believe so,” Liz replied, moving behind her desk. When she was seated, the men took the chairs opposite hers. “You’ve expressed your concerns regarding security to me, and I’ve passed them along to Mr. Graves.”

  “And I’ve passed them on to my staff,” Tom told Adam. “I believe we have everything in place, Mr. Hopewell. Your wife will be safe here.”

  The security chief’s confidence didn’t seem to impress Adam at all. In fact, Liz noted that Hopewell’s sharp, handsome features were a mask that held not one trace of warmth or friendliness. His manner went beyond businesslike; it was coldly confrontational as he replied, “Frankly, Graves, that doesn’t reassure me as much as it might have twenty-four hours ago. I made the decision to bring my wife here based on the reputation Bride’s Bay has for privacy and security. Unfortunately the private detective I hired to verify that reputation discovered a number of serious security breaches within the past six months that have me deeply concerned.”

  Liz stiffened, but Tom’s calm demeanor didn’t change. “If your detective was thorough, you know that most of those security breaches happened under my predecessor,” he told Adam.

  “True enough,” Adam said, “but one man does not constitute a security system or a security staff. Within the last six months, this resort has had a baby abandoned on the concierge’s doorstep, the disgruntled exhusband of one of the employees hold a diplomat at gunpoint, and a convicted traitor hiding out on the island for weeks. And those are only the minor breaches! Would you care to talk about the murder that took place in room 207? Or the attempted murder of a juror who was—”

  “Mr. Hopewell, there were extenuating circumstances surrounding all of those incidents,” Liz told him firmly, her face flaming with embarrassment.

  “Oh, really? Tell that to the woman who died in room 207,” Adam retorted.

  Words failed Liz, but not Tom Graves. “What would be the point, Mr. Hopewell? My predecessor was a nice guy who got sloppy, but I was hired to change that, and I believe I have.”

  “Prove it,” Adam challenged him.

  “Gladly. If you’ll come with me we’ll take a tour of the facility and I’ll show you everything I’ve done to improve security. You can meet the men I’ve a
ssigned to protect your wife, and I’ll go over every detail of the special arrangements I’ve made for Mrs. Hopewell. If that still doesn’t satisfy you, we’ll talk about what else we can reasonably do to assure your wife’s safety.”

  “All right, let’s do that,” Adam said, coming to his feet. “Show me what you’re going to do to keep my wife alive.”

  Tom rose, as well, and met the guest’s stern gaze without flinching. “We’re going to do everything we can, Mr. Hopewell.”

  “You’d better, Graves, because if anything happens to Maddy I’m going to hold you personally responsible. Now, let’s get started on that tour.” Adam turned on his heel and stalked out.

  Tom looked at Liz. “If you’re not going to take the weekend off, can I?” he asked forlornly, then headed out the door without waiting for an answer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “WELL? WHAT LOOKS GOOD to you?”

  “Everything. Since you let me sleep all afternoon I’m so hungry I could eat the menu itself,” Maddy replied. She closed the embossed leather folder and handed it across the table to Adam. “But I’ll settle for the lobster.”

  “Oops,” he said, handing the menu right back to her. “Bad choice. You love shellfish, but if you eat it I’ll be visiting you in the hospital tomorrow.”

  “I’m allergic?”

  “You’ve been known to break into hives if a waiter carries a lobster past our table. You don’t want to find out what happens when you ingest it.”

  Maddy groaned and opened the menu again. “Great. Back to the drawing board.” The rumble of her stomach and the delicious smells all around her gave her the incentive to choose quickly. She opted for the veal and Adam signaled the waiter.

  “What else am I allergic to?” she asked as soon as he’d placed their order.

  “Nothing. Just shellfish.”

  Maddy tilted her head to one side. “What about you? Any allergies I should be aware of?”

  Adam seemed a little surprised by the question, and Maddy realized it was one of the first she’d ever asked about him personally. It was about time, she decided.

  “No allergies,” he told her. “And no major health problems of any kind.”

  “What do you do for exercise?”

  “I try to run several mornings a week, and we had a rowing machine in our apartment that I used at night before bed.”

  “Did we ever jog together?” Maddy asked him.

  He made a seesaw motion with his hand. “Oh…sometimes, but not often.”

  Maddy sensed a story behind his answer and she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re too competitive,” Adam said matter-of-factly. “Whenever we go out for a run you turn it into a race.”

  “I’m too competitive!” Maddy exclaimed. “Doesn’t it take two to make a race?”

  A sheepish smile teased Adam’s lips. “Well…I suppose, maybe…just maybe I’m, uh, almost as competitive as you.”

  “Yeah, right. Almost, my eye,” she grumbled. She fought back a grin as she pictured them jogging along the bank of the Seine, an early-morning mist rising from the water. They picked up speed until they were running flat out, leaving other joggers behind, and raced neck and neck, neither of them giving ground as they pounded toward the Pont des Arts. By the time they reached the footbridge that led across the river to the Louvre, they were both laughing as they gasped for air. The image was fuzzy and a little romantic, too.

  But then the image sharpened so abruptly it left Maddy breathless. She could see the Pont des Arts. She could smell the faintly acrid scent of the river and feel the mist that brushed her face. She could hear her own pounding footsteps as she ran, and somewhere behind her she heard voices raised in an argument.

  Maddy could see the whole scene as clearly as she could see Adam across the table from her, and she knew she had just reclaimed a memory.

  That realization made her grab onto it, trying to bring more of the moment into focus, to feel what it meant to be Madeline Hopewell jogging in the Paris dawn, but as soon as she tried to enlarge the memory it evaporated.

  “Maddy?”

  She blinked twice and realized that Adam had reached across the table and was holding her hand. A smile started inside her and burst out. “I could see it, Adam. I remembered!”

  He squeezed her hand, his eyes glowing with excitement. “Remembered what?”

  “Jogging on the Quai d’Orsay across from the Louvre. I remember being there! The sun was barely up, and there was a couple—man and woman, joggers, I think—and they were arguing because one of them had left their apartment without the door key. They were locked out.”

  Adam laughed. “Maddy, that’s amazing! That’s wonderful! What else do you remember?”

  Her smile faded. “Nothing. Just…that one instant.” She shrugged off her melancholy as quickly as it had come. This was good news, not bad. It proved that her memories were still intact and eventually she’d get them back. She managed something that resembled a smile. “Did we ever jog together there?” she asked Adam.

  “Sometimes. But I guess…” He hesitated. “I guess you didn’t see me in the memory?”

  Maddy was as disappointed as he was, but she wasn’t going to let it spoil their evening. “No, but I didn’t really expect to.”

  Adam stiffened and withdrew his hand from hers. “Why not?”

  “Didn’t you say our jogs always turned into races?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  Maddy shrugged and spread her hands wide. “Obviously I was winning.”

  Adam had to fight hard to keep from laughing. “Well, I suppose that’s possible. I probably did let you win once or twice.”

  “Let me win! That will be the day Adam Hope-well!” she chided. “You’re clearly not above taking advantage of my condition in order to glorify your own meager accomplishments. You ought to be ashamed.”

  “Oh, I am,” he said much too seriously. “I am mortified. I should be horsewhipped.”

  “Yes, you should be,” she said with mock disapproval. “I’m going to have to put you on a lie detector and find out what other fibs, misrepresentations, falsehoods, and out-and-out lies you’ve told me.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Shucks. My deceit has been unmasked. I stand guilty as charged, madam.”

  “Oh, ho! Then you admit that I won most of our races.”

  Adam nodded, but made it look like the hardest confession he’d ever made in his life.

  “Anything else you’d like to tell me?” she asked with mock suspicion.

  Growing suddenly covert, Adam darted quick glances around the room to be certain no one was within earshot, then leaned toward her confidentially. His manner was so exaggerated that it was everything Maddy could do to keep a straight face. “Don’t tell anyone else this, darling,” he whispered, “but you’re a spy for the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  Maddy stifled a laugh and widened her eyes in mock amazement. “Really? A spy for the CIA? Wow. I guess that means you’re a spy, too.”

  He nodded. “Actually I’m the one who recruited you.”

  “And together we chase bad guys the world over?”

  Adam took a sip of wine. “Something like that. Although I think the CIA is more involved with collecting intelligence than capturing villains.”

  “Oh. Of course. I stand corrected,” Maddy said with a chuckle. “Is there anything else I should know about myself?”

  Adam appeared to think it over. “Nope. That’s it.”

  “But where’s my secret decoder ring?” she asked.

  He reached across the table and took her left hand in his, then lightly massaged the base of her ring finger. “You refused to wear it, remember?” he said wistfully. “You really can be obstinate.”

  His touch left Maddy a little breathless. She yanked her hand away, wanting to shatter the intimacy of the moment. “Obstinate? Obviously you’re one of those men whose egos are threatened by independe
nt women.”

  “Obviously. That’s why our marriage has lasted so many years.”

  “Touché.” She conceded the point to him, but it raised another issue she’d been wondering about. “All joking aside, Adam, why has our marriage lasted ten years?”

  He took the question seriously. “Because we love each other, and more importantly, we understand each other.”

  Maddy tilted her head to one side. “What’s the most important thing you understand about me?”

  “That you’re the most independent, self-sufficient woman I’ve ever known, and you won’t settle for anything less than being treated as a fifty-fifty partner in any relationship.”

  Her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh, really? If you understand that about me, why have you been making so many decisions about my welfare without bothering to ask my opinion?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Well…let’s just say that the thing you understand best about me is that I have a tendency to be an overprotective, dictatorial chauvinist.”

  She quirked one eyebrow skeptically. “And our marriage has lasted in spite of that?”

  Adam nodded. “Because you know that when I turn into a Neanderthal it’s only because I love you more than anything in this world.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “And because you’ve never been shy about letting me know when I’ve crossed the line.”

  A smile teased Maddy’s lips, too. “Like my over-the-top reaction this morning when you told me not to worry about your meeting with the hotel manager?”

  “Exactly.”

  The waiter appeared with their first course, and it was a moment before Maddy could ask, “How did the meeting go?”

  “Fine. Her chief of security, Tom Graves, sat in on the meeting, too. He seemed very competent.”

  “And they satisfied your concerns?”

  “Yes. Our room is one of several that has especially high security. Video surveillance cameras cover all of its access points, including the roof and balcony.”

  “Video on the balcony?” Maddy asked, not sure she liked the idea of having her every move scrutinized in her own quarters.