Man From Half Moon Bay: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Iris Johansen

  She nodded again.

  “So I don’t touch you and I don’t manipulate you. We date, we talk, we court. Okay?”

  “What if I say no, that it’s not okay?”

  The faintest flicker of humor showed on his face. “Then you’ll receive a present at World Report every hour on the hour. I’ll follow you around like a lonesome puppy”—and his voice lowered to velvet softness—“I’ll try to seduce you at every opportunity.”

  “I see.” Her gaze searched his face. “This isn’t a trick? You really mean it?”

  He flinched. “My God, I don’t break my word, Sara.”

  “I realize your promise is respected among your business associates, but I don’t really know …”

  “You will before our courtship is over. Well?”

  It would probably be a terrible mistake, Sara thought. Jordan was an enigma. He had told her he would do anything to get her back, and perhaps this was just another ploy to disarm her. She started to tell him she wouldn’t do it.

  “Please,” he muttered.

  She felt a melting deep within her. Jordan had always demanded, taken, or seduced. She couldn’t remember him ever pleading for anything in their entire time together. Could there still be hope? Oh, Lord, did she want there to be hope? Her life was so serene now with no Jordan to stir and bewitch her senses.

  “Trust me. I’ll never try to manipulate you again.”

  Trust him. There had never been trust between them, only passion and physical delight. Yet, if he sincerely meant what he said, the prospect for a deeper happiness would then be beyond anything she had dreamed.

  “Sara, answer me.”

  “I’ll trust you. For now,” she said slowly, then paused. “But if you’re going to court me, it’s damn well going to be a normal, everyday courtship. Call off those private investigators and stop following me around yourself.”

  Relief flickered across his face and the tension eased from his taut muscles. “Right. You won’t be sorry.”

  She met his gaze. “If I am, it will be the last time,” she said deliberately. “I won’t go through this again. I’m not a masochist, Jordan.”

  “No threats.” He smiled and looked suddenly boyish. “It’s going to be all right, Sara. Just relax and let me do the worrying.”

  She sighed. “There you go again. I like doing my share of the worrying. It indicates a relationship and not a form of thralldom.”

  “Sorry.” His bright blue eyes twinkled. “It’s—”

  “Automatic,” she finished for him. She found herself smiling. “You have a long way to go.”

  “But I’ll get there.” His smile vanished. “With a little help from you. I’ve never asked you for help before, Sara. Help me to make this work.”

  The silence between them was suddenly fraught with emotion, and Sara found herself staring up at him, unable to tear her gaze away. He was asking something from her beyond what the words expressed. Something deeper. She finally managed to look away and laugh shakily. “Well, I need some help too. Mac’s going to raise the roof if you continue to send gifts to the office. It doesn’t strike quite the right note of professionalism in the newsroom. No more presents. Okay?”

  “No more presents.” He glanced wistfully at the sable coat she had tossed on the couch when she entered the apartment. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to accept these—”

  “No,” she said firmly.

  “Pity. Oh, well, I’ll save them until you decide—” He broke off and gave her a sheepish smile as he saw the wariness dawning in her face. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’m pushing. I’m afraid it’s the nature of the beast.”

  “I noticed,” she said dryly. “For nine solid months.”

  “It will be different this time. I promise you, Sara.” He suddenly turned away and opened the door. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Be ready. There’s something I want to show you.”

  She was obviously being dismissed, Sara thought with amusement. “It’s customary to request the pleasure of the lady’s company,” she said lightly. “In fact, it’s considered de rigueur during courtship, Jordan.”

  He smiled. “Will you please come with me tonight?”

  “I’d be delighted.” Sara turned at the door to look up at him. “What do I wear? Formal or informal?”

  “Jeans, tennis shoes, and a Windbreaker. See you at seven.”

  She could feel his gaze on her as she walked down the hall toward the elevators. What had she gotten herself into? she wondered apprehensively. It was beginning again; she was being swayed by Jordan as if she had never left him.

  She stopped short as she reached the elevators and glanced over her shoulder. Jordan was still standing in the doorway watching her as if he’d known she’d have second thoughts. He probably had known, damn him.

  Then he smiled with such loving understanding, she felt her anxiety ebbing away. “It’s all right, love,” he called softly. “You’re not making a mistake.” He slowly shut the door.

  For some odd reason she was reassured. She pushed the button for the elevator. After all, she was doing nothing irrevocable, surely there was no harm in giving Jordan his chance to prove her wrong about him.

  Where could he be taking her this evening? She would have expected candlelight and seductive soft music for Jordan to initiate his courtship. Not jeans and tennis shoes.

  Sara gazed in bewilderment at the massive steel skeleton of the skyscraper towering against the sunset sky. “This is what you wanted me to see?”

  Jordan nodded as he handed her a bright yellow hardhat. “Put this on. I want to take you up on the top girders. There’s a great view of the bay.” He put on his own hat and took her hand to help her down the dirt incline from the street. “It will be another four months before it’s finished, but you can see how it’s going to shape up.”

  “Is it a new hotel?”

  Jordan shook his head. “It’s the new headquarters for Bandor International. I’m moving the entire executive structure from Sydney to San Francisco.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

  “You like it here.” Jordan didn’t look at her as he helped her over the rough ground, carefully avoiding bulldozers and power tools. “And I think you’ll feel safer on your home ground.” His hand tightened around her own. “I want you to feel secure with me. Maybe you would have felt more capable of trying to work things out if you hadn’t been forced to live in a strange country.”

  “You’re moving because of me?” she whispered. “What if it doesn’t suc—”

  “I told you our marriage is going to work this time.” He pulled her into the outside construction elevator and turned the switch. The elevator moved swiftly upward. “By the way, this is how a lift is supposed to work. Why don’t you let me send a team of workmen to your building to replace that antique?”

  “I like that elevator. It has character.”

  A sudden smile warmed his face. “I remember you said the old beat-up Volkswagen you owned in Sydney had character.”

  She stiffened. He had opened an old wound. “I liked it. You had no right to get rid of it and buy me another one.”

  “Dammit, I was worried about that old clunker breaking down in traffic,” he said, clearly exasperated. “I had nightmares about you ending up in the hospital or the morgue.”

  “You did?” She was startled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were worried? I’m not unreasonable. I just thought you didn’t want your wife driving a car that looked like it was ready for the junk heap.”

  “I thought you’d realize I …” He trailed off, gazing straight ahead. “I’m an inarticulate bastard when it comes to talking about things that are important to me. It’s as if it’s all locked up inside me and can’t get out.” The elevator had come to a stop and he stepped out onto the girder. “Be careful. The girders are laid pretty close together here and there’s a safety railing.” His hold on her arm was painfully tight as he drew her carefully over to the edg
e of the structure. “Sit down.”

  She plopped down, dangling her legs over the edge of the building. She breathed in the air’s piercing coolness, her gaze on the blue-violet bay in the distance. “You’re right, it’s a beautiful view. I’m glad you brought me to see it. It gives you a strange feeling being up here, doesn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” He sat down beside her. His hand once more closing tightly on her arm. “Scoot back a little. You’re too close to the edge.”

  Sara moved back a few inches. “I don’t know. I guess it gives me a sense of my fragility to look at those massive concrete skyscrapers and realize that all of it started just like this. Girders and wires and space …” She gestured helplessly. “Do you know what I’m trying to say?”

  “That they’re all raw and unfinished beneath the facade.” The expression on his face was amazingly gentle as he gazed at her. “And so are we all.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but there’s something else there too. There has to be strength and endurance or there wouldn’t be anything to build on. We’d just crumble away.”

  “Not you. You’re a very strong lady.”

  “You think I’m strong?” She gazed at him in surprise. “I didn’t show much strength when I was with you or I wouldn’t have let you dominate me as you did.”

  “I always knew you were strong.” He looked out over the city. “It scared the hell out of me.”

  “Scared you? You’re joking.”

  He shook his head. “It’s easy to control the weak, but it’s nearly impossible to control the strong. I knew if I wasn’t very clever I’d never be able to control you.” He turned and met her gaze. “And I was clever. I studied you and concentrated every particle of my energy on finding the ways to do so.”

  She gazed at him, stunned. “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to lose you.” He smiled crookedly. “And then I lost you anyway. Which proves I’m not such a clever fellow after all, doesn’t it?”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “For the same reason I tried to control you. Everything I do is based on that same basic theme. If I’m not honest with you, I may lose you.” He pointed across the bay. “I’ve bought some property outside of Sausalito. When you’re ready to choose the architect for our house, I’ll take you to look at it.”

  She shook her head. “Office buildings, houses. You’re moving too fast.”

  “I’ve had eighteen months of waiting, so my actions now seem damn slow to me.” Jordan rose to his feet. “We’d better go down. It isn’t safe on these girders after dark.” He pulled her up beside him and his grip was viselike as he helped her across the roof to the elevator. A moment later they were descending to the ground.

  She suddenly became aware that Jordan’s hand on the switch was trembling. Her gaze lifted swiftly to his face to find it pale and strained. “Jordan, what’s wrong?”

  He smiled. “It’s nothing. It just scared me to see you skipping along those girders.”

  “Then why did you take me up there?”

  The elevator came to a halt and he stepped out and took her elbow. “A little test.”

  “For me?”

  “No, for me. Eighteen months ago I wouldn’t have been able to stand to see you up there.” He began to propel her across the construction site. “But I made it and that’s saying something, I guess.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  They had reached the sidewalk and he stopped and turned her to face him. He took off her yellow hardhat, his fingers lingering on the sleek softness of her hair. “It’s not enough for you to get to know me. I have to get to know myself. I have to learn what’s possible for me and what’s going to be impossible.”

  She gazed at him in puzzlement. The last rays of twilight lent an odd sternness to the hard planes contouring his face. “Perhaps we both have some learning to do,” she said slowly. “I seem to be finding out new things about you every moment now.”

  He grimaced. “I’m surprised I haven’t sent you flying for sanctuary. Honesty may be the best policy, but it’s not always the safest.”

  “No, it’s not.” A smile lit her face. “But I believe I like you better with a few holes in your armor.”

  He chuckled. “You mean like that disaster of a Volkswagen and that godawful lift?”

  “Character is very important,” she assured him gravely. “And rough edges are always more interesting than smooth ones.”

  He took off his own yellow hardhat and started toward the Mercedes parked down the street. “Come on, I’ll take you to a coffee shop and let you see if you can discover a few more of my hard edges. Lord knows, I have enough of them.”

  “I really should go home. I have to work tomorrow.”

  He turned and his eyes narrowed as he studied her intently. “Your work is very important to you, isn’t it? I’ve read several of your interviews in the past months and found them quite perceptive.”

  “Thank you. I enjoy doing interviews more than conventional articles. It’s a challenge to be able to dig deep and find out what motivates and drives the people who have an effect on all of us.” She made a face. “Unfortunately, most of those people don’t need publicity and I have the devil of a time arranging interviews. For instance, I’d give my eye teeth for a chance at an interview with Alex Ben Raschid or Margaret Thatcher, but I haven’t had any luck as yet.”

  “For a woman of your determination I’m sure it’s only a question of time.” He smiled faintly. “No coffee, then?”

  She hesitated.

  “If I try to persuade you to go, you’re sure to accuse me of trying to manipulate you. So it’s your decision, Sara.”

  Her decision, not Jordan’s. She felt a sudden explosion of exuberance that almost made her dizzy. “It is, isn’t it?” She jammed her hands in the pockets of her Windbreaker and strolled after him. “And I don’t feel like going home right now.”

  He lifted one dark brow, waiting.

  “And I do feel like going to a coffeehouse.”

  He inclined his head in a mocking bow. “I’m truly honored, milady.” He opened the door of the Mercedes. “I’ll make every attempt to get you home before the witching hour.”

  “How did it go?” Cam asked as soon as Jordan walked into the suite a few minutes after midnight. “Success?”

  Jordan shook his head. “Hope.” He crossed to the telephone on the desk and lifted the receiver. “I figure that’s success enough for the moment.”

  “My, how humble we’re becoming.” Cam’s eyes were twinkling. “Is this the real Jordan Bandor speaking?”

  “Get off my back, brat.” Jordan quickly punched in a number. “I have enough pressure at the moment without you needling me. I promised Sara I’d call off the detectives.”

  Cam gave a low whistle. “And you’re going to do it?”

  “I gave her my word.” Jordan’s grip tightened on the receiver. “And I’ll keep it. I’ll just have to find a way to keep her safe without surrounding her with bodyguards.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  “Spend as much time with her as possible.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I’d do that anyway.” The phone started to ring at the other end of the line. “And, if I can’t keep a guard on her, I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll set Marambas’s people to watching Kemp in New York. With the police and Marambas’s men both on surveillance, there shouldn’t be any possibility Kemp will slip away from them.” The phone was picked up and Marambas answered. Jordan spoke into the receiver. “Marambas, there’s been a change of plan. Here’s what I want you to do.”

  Two minutes later he replaced the receiver and stood looking down at the phone with a thoughtful frown.

  “Mission accomplished?” Cam asked.

  “What?” Jordan’s tone was abstracted. “Oh, yes, he said he’d get on it right away.” He reached for the receiver again. “It’s still a decent hour in Sedikhan, isn’t it?”

  “Sedikhan?” Cam looked at him in s
urprise. “I think so. I get turned around after I’ve been in a place for more than a few days. Why are you calling Sedikhan?”

  Jordan didn’t answer. He was already speaking to the international operator.

  Three

  “You look tired. Rough flight?”

  Sara’s heart gave a sudden leap as she turned and saw Jordan leaning against the wall beside the door exiting airport customs. He was casually dressed in worn jeans and the sleeves of his cream-colored shirt were rolled up to the elbow. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked calm, strong, and wonderfully unfrazzled in the hubbub surrounding her. “No more than usual, but Sedikhan is a heck of a long way. I suppose I’ve got jet lag. It was nice of you to come to meet me. I didn’t expect anyone to show up in the middle of the night.” Her gaze narrowed on his face. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me how you knew what flight I’d be on? What is there between you and Mac Devlin anyway? You two looked like bosom buddies at his party.”

  “I scarcely know Mac. We do have a few business affiliations.” He picked up her garment bag and overnight case. “It wasn’t he who told me when you’d be coming in. My car is in the parking lot. Can you manage that attaché case?”

  She nodded as she fell into step with him. “How did you know? The trip was so hurried, I didn’t have time to make return reservations before I reached Sedikhan.”

  He smiled faintly. “No detectives, I promise.”

  “Jordan, dammit, tell me—” She stopped, her eyes widening. “Wait just a minute … You wouldn’t, by any chance, also be a bosom buddy of Alex Ben Raschid’s?”

  “Alex and I are acquainted. Bandor Enterprises recently built a hotel in Marasef and I spent a few weekends at the palace when I was in Sedikhan seven months ago. Alex is a very interesting man. How did your interview with him turn out?”

  “Wonderfully. It may be the best thing I’ve ever done. He projects so much color and force.” She stopped by the passenger door of the Mercedes and turned to face him. “You did it, didn’t you? I thought it was weird that the sheikh’s secretary would suddenly call Mac to set up an interview, when he’d been refusing to see me for over a year. You pulled strings to get me that interview.”