by Robyn Donald
She swirled her glass, sipped a little, then told him reluctantly, ‘Michael found it. He wanted to live near the sea, and the marina is just down the road. And it’s close to Auckland—I can get to work in half an hour even in the rush hour. I’ll miss it.’
‘You’re planning to sell it?’ His voice was disturbingly soft.
She’d been shatteringly intimate with him, yet now distance stretched between them and it was getting wider. Vivid eyes, glittering like the fire in the heart of a diamond, stabbed into her, seeking something she wasn’t able to give because she didn’t know how to satisfy a man like him.
Any man.
She stiffened, aware of betraying catspaws across the surface of her drink. ‘Yes,’ she said evenly, putting it down and loosely clasping her hands in front to stop their shaking. Hastily she added, ‘I’ve lived there too long—it’s time for a change.’
‘You don’t seriously believe that if we can’t track down that other money you’ll lose your job, do you?’
Aline finished the glass in one long gulp. ‘Would you deal with someone under suspicion for mismanagement of funds?’
‘No,’ he said with brutal frankness, adding, ‘But you aren’t.’
She shrugged and walked across to the window, staring out into the dusk. ‘Not yet,’ she said flatly. ‘There’ll be rumours soon enough if we can’t find out who took it and where it’s gone.’
‘What will you do if you can’t shake the rumours? You’ve worked damned hard to get to your position.’
Not only that; her career was her life, her tribute to her father. She didn’t know what else she’d do. Realising that her response wasn’t the desperation she’d expected, she said in a stunned voice, ‘I’ll be relieved.’
‘Relieved?’ He spoke in a neutral tone.
Damn, why had she had to let that out? Picking her words carefully, she said, ‘I enjoy what I do because I’m good at it, but it was never my first choice. My mother couldn’t have more children after my sister was born, so in a way I became my father’s son.’
‘In other words, your father took his wild eaglet and yoked her to his own dreams,’ Jake said, his matter-of-fact tone belied by his hard gaze. ‘When did you realise you were living his life, not your own?’
Aline shook her head so vigorously she dislodged a strand of hair. Tucking it back, she said intensely, ‘I don’t accept that.’
‘What was your first choice of career?’
‘I’d have liked to be a doctor. I wanted to help people,’ she said with grave dignity.
A discreet buzz from the intercom indicated a visitor. ‘I’ll get it,’ Jake said. ‘It’s probably dinner.’
Aline’s eyes lingered on his lean-hipped, long-legged, broad-shouldered figure as he left the room. Since they’d made love this morning she’d sensed aggression smouldering beneath his cool exterior. Heartsore, she wondered if he was regretting that rapturous coupling.
Or if he was already pulling away from someone whose reputation could be irretrievably tarnished.
The buzzer did herald dinner—sent over from a local restaurant, Jake told her as she helped him set it out. It was probably delicious, but Aline ate without tasting.
After the meal Jake didn’t object when she went straight back into the office and began work again. He came with her, settling down in front of his laptop.
A couple of hours later she said quietly, ‘Jake.’
Instantly he got up and came to stand behind her, frowning at the screen.
‘Your mole’s come up trumps. There,’ she said, clicking the mouse. Anger froze her voice. ‘Peter’s just sold off a big block of shares, and he transferred that money from the Trust account into a bank account in the Cook Islands.’
Jake’s brows met over the blade of his nose. ‘What makes you think that’s—? Ah, I see.’ That sharp intellect had grasped the significance of the sum left in the trust.
‘Yes,’ she said tightly. ‘He’s taken out every cent he made for the Trust, leaving the exact amount that was subscribed by the public.’
‘And it was transferred by cheque?’ The words crackled in the quiet room.
‘Yes.’ She frowned at the date.
‘What’s the name of the account?’ Jake didn’t move, yet energy sizzled through him, as powerful as the sexual energy she knew so well. But this was a hunter’s intensity, the persistent, lethal, disciplined power that had taken him to the top. Imprisoned by his intense, piercing gaze, she straightened uneasily.
She told him the name of the account. He said curtly, ‘Does it mean anything to you?’
‘Nothing.’
Jake asked evenly, ‘Who co-signed the cheque?’
The figures danced crazily in front of her as the date loomed large. Dry-mouthed, she admitted, ‘It could have been me—the dates are right. It was the day we quarrelled and Peter told me that Tony Hudson was overseas.’
‘Tony was at the christening,’ he said dispassionately. ‘He didn’t speak of any overseas trip.’
Afraid that she would see suspicion in his eyes, she lifted a proud chin. ‘I know. I don’t sign blank cheques, and normally there’s no way I’d have signed one for that amount without finding out what it was for and where it was going.’
‘Normally?’
She looked up, meeting unreadable eyes in an impassive face. Colour faded from her skin. ‘I told you, I was too angry with him—too busy arguing—to take much notice of what I was signing,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’d like to say that I’d have noticed the amount, but—it got pretty heated and I was all churned up.’
She expected him to probe further, but after one frowning glance at her he said without inflection, ‘That’s enough for tonight. Go to bed.’
‘But—’
‘Go to bed,’ he repeated uncompromisingly, and leaned over her and quit the computer.
Aline turned angrily, jerking back as she realised how close he was. She could see the fine-grained skin, the small laughter lines at the corner of his eyes, the burnished opacity of his eyes in their thick lashes.
And then she saw nothing because he kissed her, his mouth hard and demanding and possessive as he drew her up against him. She didn’t resist; she wanted nothing more than to stay in the unsafe haven of his arms. But too soon he put her away and smiled ironically.
‘You’re exhausted, and no wonder,’ he said, tucking a wayward strand of hair back from her hot cheek. ‘If we go to bed together neither of us will get any rest, so spend the night in your own room. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.’
All very sensible and pragmatic—and cold-blooded. As she walked down the hall to her room Aline thought bleakly that she wouldn’t care about not sleeping if only she could stay in Jake’s arms all night. Clearly he didn’t feel the same way.
She woke with a jolt. All was silent apart from the occasional sound of an engine, but something had woken her—ah! The disks. Before they’d gone to bed they should have copied them and hidden the copies. She frowned into the darkness for a few seconds, then sighed. She wasn’t going to sleep until it had been done, so she might as well get up and do it now.
Pulling her T-shirt around her, she opened her bedroom door and tiptoed down the darkened passageway. She was almost at the office when she heard indistinct voices, like a television set turned low.
So Jake couldn’t sleep too, she thought, and smiled, a secretive woman’s smile. Perhaps they could do something about that…
Quietly she approached the door, easing it open so she could surprise him.
The sound of her own name, said in a voice she didn’t recognise, froze her to the floor.
‘—changed your mind about Mrs Connor?’ the stranger asked. ‘You were certain she had to be one of the kingpins, if not the one who organised the heist, and now you say she’s innocent. There’s a strong likelihood she signed that cheque—poor old Tony Hudson’s damned near useless, but he says he’d have remembered a cheque for that amount, and I bel
ieve him. What happened to make you give her the benefit of the doubt?’
In a hard voice Jake said, ‘I didn’t say she was innocent. I said it’s probable.’
Over the incredulous drumming of her heart Aline heard the unknown man say, ‘With all respect, Jake, I hope you’re not letting a beautiful face get in the way of logical thinking. That’s not like you.’ His lightly reproving tone held an undercurrent of nervousness.
‘I’m still not sure,’ Jake said, the clinical detachment in his tone piercing Aline to the heart. ‘And I’m not moving until I know for certain.’
‘Look, I know we found nothing when we searched her house—you did a brilliant job of getting her out so we could go in there—but you know yourself, absence of evidence doesn’t prove innocence. And although you can’t prosecute on rumours, they usually have some basis in fact. What could be simpler than for her to sign the cheque and then split the money with Bournside? Or they could have fun with it together. He’s definitely left his wife.’
There was a silence. Aline’s breath stopped in her throat as her hand clenched on the door handle.
‘I’ve said it’s a possibility,’ Jake said, the indifference in his voice killing something vital and vulnerable in her. ‘It doesn’t matter, because she’s not leaving the country until I’m certain of her innocence.’
‘Got a way to keep her here?’ the stranger asked with a note in his voice that increased Aline’s despairing nausea.
‘Yes,’ Jake said simply.
‘All right,’ the other man said, sounding disgruntled. ‘I’ll take this back to the boys and get them to start tracing.’ His irritation dissolved into a chuckle. ‘The Serious Fraud Office are going to be seriously furious when you hand the evidence over to them. Why did you decide to do this by yourself instead of letting the cops loose on it?’
Aline pushed the door open and said in a brittle, carrying voice, ‘I’d like to know that too, Jake. Why not tell us both?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NAKED shock darkened Jake’s eyes, but it lasted less than a heartbeat; almost immediately a smile, as aggressive as it was humourless, curled his chiselled mouth.
‘Because,’ he said deliberately, ‘three years ago my secretary donated a large amount of money—more than she could afford—to that fund. Her son hero-worshipped Michael Connor, and when the boy died she gave the money in his name. A few months ago I happened to overhear something that set me wondering, so I made some discreet enquiries.’
Nauseated, Aline realised that she’d been set up. Dredging deep into her reservoir of courage she demanded, ‘And?’
‘And found just enough smoke to hint at a fire,’ Jake said deliberately, watching her with eyes as dense and depthless as liquid gold. ‘Lots of interesting juggling on the share market, even more rumours, but nothing concrete until I made a point of talking to Tony Hudson at Emma’s christening.’
‘What did he say?’
Jake’s flat, unwinking gaze measured her response with cold detachment. ‘That he wasn’t happy with the financial state of the Trust, and that he was worried because Peter Bournside had been very elusive lately. We didn’t have a chance to talk properly, but he said that you were involved. And that you and Bournside were very good friends.’
‘So you immediately suspected me of conspiring with Peter. Of course I was involved—I told you I’d spoken to the trustees,’ Aline retorted harshly, her brain fogged by fury and appalled disillusion. ‘What made you take such an interest in this? And don’t give me any rubbish about altruism. You don’t know what the word means.’
Jake looked from her to the man who had risen abruptly when she’d come in the door. ‘Wait outside, please,’ he said pleasantly, but the words rang like steel.
Silently the stranger got up and walked past Aline; she didn’t look at him, would never have recognised him again. Her whole attention was focused on Jake’s ruthless face. How had she let the male beauty of his classical features blind her to the driving strength and implacable power so obvious in its arrogant angles and planes?
She was accustomed to pain, but this was new to her—an emotional agony that lashed her with such force she had to grip the back of a chair to hold herself upright. Compared to it, Michael’s treachery was nothing. If she could have crawled back into the hollow caverns of her mind she’d have done it then, jettisoning every memory without a qualm.
When the door closed, Jake said curtly, ‘I didn’t go to the police with this because I decided that if there was any chance of dealing with the situation without involving them I’d do it.’
Aline astounded herself by laughing. Shocked by the note of hysteria, she summoned every ounce of her will-power and curbed her tone into studied scorn. ‘When did it occur to you that sleeping with me might make it easier for you to find out if I was guilty?’
‘Sleeping with you wasn’t on the agenda,’ he said, watching her with a merciless, burnished gaze. And added, unforgivably, ‘If you remember, that was your idea.’
Red-hot rage fountained through her, reviving her with an adrenalin boost. Aware that she couldn’t give in to it, didn’t dare shriek her rage and devastation because if she did she’d lose everything she knew of herself, Aline clung rigidly to the tatters of her composure.
‘Indeed it was,’ she agreed with icy self-contempt. ‘Lucky for you I was so unnerved by Lauren’s revelations that I weakly agreed to your kind offer of refuge on the island.’
A muscle jerked in his jaw. He paused before saying abrasively, ‘I needed time to find out what had happened. Tony Hudson told me quite clearly and categorically that you were behind every decision Peter Bournside made.’
‘He’s lying.’
‘Someone was lying,’ Jake said with biting precision. ‘I rang Tony a couple of hours ago and dug a bit further, and he told me Bournside had told them all along that you agreed with everything he’d done.’
Jake had made love to her convinced that she was implicated in Peter’s schemes, whatever they were. That heart-shaking passion and the companionship she’d valued just as much were lies, like Michael’s protestations of love.
Aline almost ground her teeth together, barely salvaging the control to say, ‘But you immediately leapt to the conclusion that I was a thief.’
‘You should know me better than that. It was a possibility,’ he said, golden eyes half-closed and chilling. ‘Losing your memory could have been a ploy to block any probing I might do, especially if you’d realised that Bournside had headed overseas and left you to face the music.’ He paused before adding with a whip-flick of contempt, ‘And you could have seduced me for reasons other than the ardour you produced so conveniently. As well, your memory loss proved rather selective, and came back with astonishing speed and ease once the news was out about possible embezzlement.’
Stark, soul-deadening humiliation raked Aline with spurs of iron. White-lipped, she sneered, ‘I’m astonished that you could sleep with a woman you thought a thief, a liar and a prostitute.’
‘That’s enough,’ he bit out.
‘And stupid above all,’ she added tautly, determined to purge herself of pain. ‘I even gave you my keys so that you could send somebody to search my house.’
Jake knew how to intimidate. He didn’t move, didn’t alter by so much as a muscle, but a taut, terrifying silence enveloped her like an aura; she faltered to a halt, and every hair on her skin stood up as he walked silently across to stand in front of her, his gleaming eyes hypnotic, a cynical smile curving his chiselled, beautiful mouth. Aline stood her ground, trying to ignore the sudden kick of panic in her midriff.
‘Like stealing cake from a child,’ he agreed inimically.
He’d systematically stripped her of everything until now she had nothing left but pride. Welcoming the coldness that crawled through her and insulated her from emotion—a familiar feeling, born on the day she’d found out her father hadn’t loved her enough to stay alive with her—she lifted her chin an
d said icily, ‘So how is it that you still think there’s a remote chance I might not be guilty? As your minion said, lack of evidence is not proof of innocence.’
‘If you tell me you didn’t sign that cheque I’ll accept your word.’
At first Aline thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. She glanced up, met eyes as relentless as an eagle’s. ‘I can’t,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’ve been trying to remember whether I looked at those cheques. I don’t think I did.’
She could remember slashing her signature across the paper several times, but the amounts were as blank as her mind had been on the island. Before he could say anything she finished, ‘But even if I did sign that cheque, it still doesn’t make me a thief.’
‘It makes it damned difficult to prove that you aren’t,’ he said evenly. ‘Especially as you have a reputation for doing things by the book.’ He paused, then added, ‘Bournside landed in Frankfurt three days ago, and no one has seen or heard of him since.’
She stared at him, her eyes enormous in her pinched face. ‘Do you think I knew about this?’ Her voice was a whiplash, rejecting him with a cutting desperation that hid the defeat beneath.
‘What I think is not important,’ he parried. ‘You may well have to stand up in a court of law and deny that you knew about it.’
‘Thank you for warning me,’ she said tonelessly, and turned away.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.
‘As far away from you as I can.’ Without looking at him she swung on her heels and walked towards the door. Pain slashed every cell in her body, but she managed to summon enough strength to add thinly, ‘I have no plans to leave the country, so you won’t have to call on your powers of persuasion to convince me to stay.’
He waited until she was almost there before answering. In a voice that held no expression at all, he said, ‘I’ll get someone to drive you to a hotel.’
She twisted the door handle, almost screaming when it refused to open. ‘Don’t bother.’