by Day Leclaire
Her eyes widened. No, he didn’t. His expression said it all. If she didn’t find out who leaked the information, she’d hang for it based on past history alone. And Damien would be first in line with the lynching rope. Panic threatened to overwhelm her. Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She had to calm down and think. First things first. “When will you complete your final report?” she questioned tautly.
“Mr. Hawke said to have it on his desk by the end of the month. That gives you three weeks.” He lowered his voice. “Three weeks, assuming we don’t lose any more contracts the way we lost this one. If we do . . . Sable, when this comes out, the board’s going to ask some tough questions—” He broke off, staring miserably at the floor. “And you’d better have the right answers.”
“I understand.” It was a lie. She didn’t understand at all. “And Ryan?”
He looked up. “Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry.” He stood up. “If there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
She inclined her head. “You’ll be the first to know.”
The minute the door closed behind him, she reached for the phone and put a call through to Alex Johnson, president of AJ Construction. To her frustration, he was out until late that afternoon, but his assistant promised to relay the urgency of her message. The rest of the day she spent liaising with Ryan Matheson in an attempt to draw up a list of possible suspects.
The very act made her physically ill.
By six that night Sable had reached the end of her rope. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, forced to concede temporary defeat. She’d gone over and over the list that she and Ryan had formulated. She trusted and respected every last name on it. What in heaven’s name was she supposed to do next? How could she uncover the truth? The phone rang at her elbow and she snatched it up, praying it would be Alex.
“Johnson here,” the caller announced abruptly. “You phoned, Mrs. Caldwell?”
“You can’t be surprised to hear for me,” she commented, deciding to get right down to business. Why waste time on pleasantries when not one aspect of this whole situation was in the least pleasant? “Not once news of the leak . . . leaked.”
He laughed, a great booming sound of genuine amusement. “I guess not. Certain individuals at Caldwell’s must be seriously pissed about that. Snatched Luther right from under your noses, didn’t we?”
“With a little help,” she said drily.
“Is that what you’re calling about?”
“Of course.”
“You want me to keep my—er—source confidential, is that it?”
Her brows drew together. “No! I want you to tell me where you got your information. Who gave you the copy of our prospectus?”
A long moment of silence greeted her response. “This is some sort of joke, right?”
“No, it’s not a joke,” she snapped. “You have the Luther project and nothing’s going to change that. But, as a businessman, you can appreciate our predicament, I’m sure. We need to find the source of your information. Are you willing to help us?”
“Are you taping this call?”
“No, of course not.”
“Are we on speakerphone or something?”
“Our conversation is completely confidential. No one even knows I’ve called you.”
“Then you’re wasting your breath.”
“You won’t tell me who’s responsible for giving you a copy of our bid?”
“You already know who give us the information.” He spoke sharply, impatiently.
She sighed in frustration. “Mr. Johnson, if I already knew, I wouldn’t be calling you, now would I?”
“I’d say that depended.”
“Depended on what?”
“On whether you were hoping this call would cover your backside. Why the game, Mrs. Caldwell? You gave us Caldwell’s prospectus. Did you think I hadn’t been told? Use your head, woman! I’m the one who authorized that hefty little sum we paid you. So, quit wasting my time with pointless phone calls. And don’t bother me again unless you have more information you want to sell.”
“No, wait! Please!”
It was too late. He’d already hung up. The receiver fell from her hand, clattering into the cradle. He thought she’d sold him the information, she realized in disbelief. But . . . how? She didn’t understand any of this. How could he think she was to blame? Could someone be using her name? If so, who? And why? A sob caught in her throat and she pressed trembling fingers to her mouth, fighting the urge to break down and weep. What in heaven’s name was she to do now?
“Sable?”
She jumped, a soft cry escaping before she could prevent it. Damien stepped from the shadows and she stared at him with huge, panicked eyes. “You startled me,” she managed to say.
He removed his suit coat and loosened his tie, his green eyes watchful. “What’s wrong, Sable?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Your phone call. From what little I overheard you sounded rather desperate. And you look . . .” He tilted his head to one side, his brows drawing together. “You look frightened. What is it? What’s wrong?”
For an insane moment, she considered telling him everything, throwing herself on his mercy and begging for help. She stopped herself just in time. How could she have forgotten, for even one tiny minute, that Damien had no mercy? To hand him the information about AJ Construction would be as good as insuring her own destruction. It would be just the weapon he’d need to ruin her completely. And she didn’t doubt for one minute he’d take full advantage of it.
“It’s just a small problem,” she murmured, keeping her response deliberately vague. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You sure?”
She stood up, praying her legs would hold her. “Positive.” He didn’t believe her, she could tell. She wished he weren’t so observant, or that she was better at dissembling. “What are you doing here? Lisa said you wouldn’t be in until tomorrow.”
“I had some files I needed to pick up. I also hoped to find you here.”
“Why?”
“So I could invite you to dinner.”
“Why?” she repeated, this time with a suspicious edge.
His eyes narrowed. “Interesting answer. Most people respond to a dinner invitation with a polite yes or no.”
“We’re not most people,” she pointed out. “And after yesterday I’m sure you can understand my hesitation.”
He tossed his suit coat and briefcase on the chair in front of her desk. “If you’d rather, we can wait until tomorrow and have our discussion here, at the office. Or we can go out, have a relaxing dinner and negotiate in private.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Which would you prefer?”
With all that had happened today, she’d completely forgotten about Damien’s ultimatum. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her. Such wonderful choices. She could sell her shares in Caldwell’s and end up the scapegoat for the leaks plaguing the company. Or she could stay, try and find the real villain, and suffer the consequences Damien threatened for not selling.
“Dinner would be fine, thanks.” To her horror, her voice broke. He took a quick step toward her, but she snatched up the phone, holding it to her chest like a shield. “Let me make a quick phone call and I’ll be ready.” To her relief, the betraying wobble vanished and she sounded almost normal.
“Sable, what—?”
“Not now!” She took a quick gulping breath. “Please, Damien. Not now.”
She sensed he wanted to argue, to force her to confide in him. But to her relief he didn’t press. With a reluctant nod, he returned to his office, presumably to get his files. She didn’t waste any time in placing a call to Millie Trainer, Kyle’s “Nanna,” to warn her of the change in plans. She also had a swift, one-sided conversation with Kyle. “I’ll see you when I get home.” Noisy smacking sounds blasted her through the earpiece and a smile broke
free for the first time that day. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Bye.”
Just as she hung up, Damien returned. He crossed the room and dropped a handful of files into his leather case. “I didn’t realize I’d be ruining your plans for the evening when I invited you to dinner,” he commented.
How much of her conversation had he overheard? she wondered. Too much, judging from the black expression darkening his face. “You aren’t ruining my plans,” she said with amazing calm. “You’ve just postponed them.”
His mouth tightened. “I see.” He picked up his briefcase and slung his suit coat over his shoulder. “Shall we go? I have a car waiting.”
She nodded in acknowledgement and led the way to the elevators. Standing at his side within the confining cubicle reminded her of yesterday morning. Her back had been pressed tight against his broad chest, his warm breath stirring the curls at her temple. Worse had been the slow, possessive stroke of his hand stealing up her hip and the way his fingers had fanned so intimately across her abdomen. She shivered. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since then.
A moment later the doors opened to the underground garage and he motioned her toward the sleek limousine idling a few steps away. “When did you start using a driver?” she inquired with a saccharine-sweet smile, praying he wouldn’t sense how disturbing she’d found those brief, intrusive memories.
He didn’t take offense, as she expected. Instead he shot her an impatient glance. “Can the wisecracks, Sable. You know I only use the car when I’m entertaining clients.” He opened the door before the chauffeur had a chance. “Get in.”
She obeyed, sliding across the plush leather seats. “Is that why you canceled our meeting today?” she asked, more abruptly than she’d intended. “Because you were busy entertaining clients?”
He joined her, sitting far too close for comfort. He shot her a sharp glance and sudden understanding dawned in his eyes. “It wasn’t deliberate, Sable,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “This appointment came up without warning and I couldn’t postpone it. Didn’t Lisa tell you to call if you needed to speak to me?”
Sable stared blindly out the window, his unexpected kindness more difficult to deal with than his animosity. “She told me.” They turned onto Montgomery Street, working their way toward the bay. Rush hour traffic had only eased slightly, making it slow going.
“Besides, I thought an extra day would give you time to think, to consider all your options.”
She rounded on him. “You didn’t leave me any options, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I gave you two. Sell—”
“Or suffer the consequences,” she cut in harshly.
His searching gaze settled on her face once again. “What’s wrong, Sable?” he murmured.
She stiffened. She didn’t want his understanding, his consideration. She could stand up to his fury but she’d fall apart beneath his tenderness. “You know what’s wrong. You’ve put me in an untenable position. What do you expect? For me to act as though nothing’s happened, that dinner tonight is a pleasant diversion?”
“No. But I do expect a certain level of professional behavior.”
That tore it! Her gaze flashed upward to lock with his. “If this were a business predicament, I’d be thoroughly professional. But this isn’t business. This is personal and you damned well know it. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with a less than professional response.”
She regretted losing her temper the moment she saw Damien’s reaction. He looked like a tiger just sprung from its cage.
“You want to drop the pretense, is that it? Fine,” he practically snarled. “I’m happy to play hardball. But don’t complain if it gets rough. Remember you asked for it.”
“I didn’t ask for a thing!” The words burst from her. “This whole situation is your idea, your decision. You want to hurt me and this is the means you’ve chosen to do it.”
“Hurt you?” A small, enigmatic smile touched his mouth. “How is that possible? You have to care in order to be hurt.”
Before she could rally sufficiently to respond, the limousine eased to a stop and the driver opened the door. Stepping from the vehicle, Sable stiffened, realizing they’d arrived at a pier where a familiar launch rocked against its mooring. She spun around. “Where are we going?” she demanded.
“You know where.”
She paled. There were only two possibilities, neither one acceptable. “Damien, no. Don’t do this to me.”
He caught her arm and urged her toward the boat. “I’m offering dinner, Sable, not torture. This will give us the privacy we need.”
“So will my office.” She stopped at the bottom of the ramp leading to the launch and turned to face him. “Why don’t we have this conversation tomorrow?”
He stood square in the center of the gangway, blocking her line of retreat. “I explained that to you. I don’t want anyone from Caldwell’s overhearing our conversation.” He spoke in quiet, implacable terms. “That means it’s either Nikolai’s or my place. Now, which will it be?”
The alternatives went from bad to worse. She glanced longingly at the limo. “Once again, you leave me no choice.”
He didn’t move. “Which will it be?” he repeated.
She sighed. “Nikolai’s.”
“I thought as much.” He assisted her aboard. “Inside the cabin or out?”
“Outside,” she decided. “I don’t often get the chance to enjoy the sun and sea air.”
She settled in the padded seat close to the bow. A moment later, they cast off. A stiff breeze caught at her hair, teasing the curls about her face into total disarray. She didn’t care. Despite the tension of the coming evening, she slowly unwound beneath the waning rays of the sinking sun. Off toward the entrance of the bay, ghostly tendrils of fog crept steadily across the water toward them, enshrouding most of the Golden Gate Bridge so that only the bright red peaks of the uppermost spans rose above the roiling mist.
“That’s better.” Damien spoke from behind her.
She brushed a stray curl from her eyes and glanced back at him. “What’s better?”
“You’re beginning to relax.”
“It’s been a stressful day,” she confessed.
“I could tell. You looked like you’d shatter into a thousand pieces at the first wrong word.” Without warning, he removed his suitcoat and dropped it around her shoulders.
It was such an intimate gesture, possessive, protective, and strangely arousing. The warmth from his body still clung to the encompassing folds of the jacket and his cologne teased her senses. She shut her eyes to conceal the sudden rush of tears. “I still might shatter,” she surprised herself by admitting. “I’m feeling a bit delicate.” How much of that feeling could be attributed to the events of that day and how much to Damien’s presence, she couldn’t say.
“You want to talk about it?”
She shook her head, emotion closing her throat. “There’s nothing you can do,” she told him in a husky voice. “I have to take care of it on my own.” She sensed his withdrawal, but it couldn’t be helped. How could she trust him with the truth when he’d made his desire for revenge so clear?
They didn’t converse after that. Sable didn’t mind. She enjoyed being on the sea again even if it was in the confines of the bay. She tipped her head back and watched the gulls dip and wheel overhead, relishing the rock and sway of the boat as it motored through the choppy waters. All too soon they approached the lights and bustle of the village of Sausalito. She adored the winding streets and specialty shops of the small, Mediterranean-style community. She and Damien had whiled away many an hour at some of the sidewalk cafés. The launch bypassed the center of town and continued further north, coming alongside the narrow pier by Nikolai’s.
Nikolai himself came out to greet them, shaking hands with Damien and kissing Sable effusively on both cheeks. “It is good to see you together again,” he declared in his deep, booming voice. He wrapped a beefy arm around her waist and
guided her up the ramp to the restaurant. “Come. Your table is ready. And dinner tonight? It will be a surprise and a delight.”
“It always is with you,” Damien commented.
“This is true. So tell me, Mr. Hotshot Businessman, what have you done to my Sable?” Nikolai glanced over his shoulder and glared, while Sable watched on in amusement. It never ceased to amaze her, the latitude Damien allowed his friend. “She looks like she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. This is your fault, yes?”
“Some of it,” Damien conceded, with a humorous glint in his eyes. “But I believe today’s weight is all her own doing.”
“This is not good. I won’t stand for it on your first time back to my restaurant in so long. Wait one minute.” Nikolai snapped his fingers. “I have just the thing. Something that will make her forget all problems for the night.”
“Her is still here, in case you’ve forgotten,” Sable remarked drily. “And I’m fine, thank you very much.”
“Fine? Hah! You make a good joke.” Nikolai threw open a side door that led into a private parlor overlooking the bay. “Sit and relax. I will return with a small treat in a few minutes.”
The room he showed them to was one of two on the premises and might have graced any fine home. It was small and intimate, with a table set up in an alcove affording a gorgeous view of Richardson Bay and Angel Island. And further in the distance glittered the lights of San Francisco. Off to one side of the room, chairs and a love seat were grouped in a secluded semicircle around a fireplace. Instead of a fire, a huge dried-flower arrangement filled the grate, the refreshing aroma of eucalyptus teasing the senses.
Determined to postpone the discussion that she knew Damien was impatient to begin, Sable excused herself to go and freshen up. In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and touched up her makeup, using a heavy hand with the blush. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she also unpinned her hair, leaving the dark curls loose about her shoulders. Stepping back from the mirror, she nodded. It helped. She didn’t appear nearly as drawn.