Double Dealing (19 page)

Gabriel’s gaze ran
assessingly
over her drawn, too-tense features and came to rest on the widened
tortoiseshell eyes. “Mind if I come in?” he finally drawled when she just stood
there, saying nothing. “It’s damn cold out here.”

“What are you doing here?” she whispered hoarsely.

“What do you think I’m doing here? You could have used a few
more days at the spa, Samantha. You look like hell. Or do you owe this
delightfully haggard appearance to the man who drives that Ferrari parked outside?”

“Actually,” she managed flippantly, recovering from her
initial shock, “that’s not far off the mark. Come in, Gabriel. Somehow I wasn’t
expecting to see you.”

He moved through the doorway, the dense, restrained power of
him intimidating her senses as she tried to readjust to his unexpected
presence. Her plans for Drew Buchanan had taken a temporary back burner as the crisis
involving her brother had materialized. And she had flung the ultimatum at
Gabriel more out of self-defense than any real expectation that it would work.

It had worked!

The full meaning of that began to dawn on her as she watched
him shrug out of his jacket. His eyes moved almost aggressively around the
pleasantly cluttered room. She found herself remembering the pristine neatness
of his own home.

“Don’t worry, no rats or cockroaches, Gabriel. A little cozy
sloppiness never hurt anyone!” She took his lightweight jacket and hung it in
the hall closet, aware that he was watching her now with an intensity that was unnerving.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she demanded brightly, turning to confront
him.

“Who is he?”

“Who?” She honestly didn’t know who he was talking about.
Her head was filling up too fast with all the possibilities of Gabriel’s
presence. He had come to seal their partnership. She could hardly believe it.

“The man who drives that Ferrari parked outside,”

Gabriel explained with a patience which sounded as if he was
willing to stand there in her hall until doomsday waiting for the answer.

“Oh, him!” Was Gabriel a little jealous? Good Lord, how much
power did she really have? “That’s Eric. Come along, Gabriel, and I’ll make the
coffee.”

Before Gabriel could answer, Eric’s voice came loudly from
the back parlor. “Make some for me, too, Sam. I need another cup!”

Gabriel eyed Samantha for a second and then swung around on
his heel and headed down the hall, following the sound of Eric’s voice.

“Gabriel, wait!” Samantha yelped anxiously, realizing the
unstoppable force she had unleashed. “Eric is my…”

The words died on her
lips as his broad back disappeared. Samantha glared at the empty hall. “Well, hell!
Who’s in charge around here, anyway?” The sight of Gabriel on her doorstep had
caused her to believe she might be once again in command. Obviously it was going
to take some effort to stay in that position. She stomped down the hall toward
the back parlor, rounding the corner just in time to see Gabriel come
face-to-face with a mildly surprised Eric.

“If you’re not the computer repair man, we might have a
problem,” Gabriel said evenly.

Eric arched one black brow, his fingers drumming gently on
the computer console in front of him. “Then it’s lucky I am the computer repair
man, isn’t it?”

“Gabriel, stop it!” Samantha hurried up behind the two men,
not caring for the cool way they were assessing each other. “This is Eric
Thorndyke, my half brother. Eric, this is Gabriel Sinclair, a … a business
acquaintance.”

“No kidding,” Eric murmured, blue eyes gleaming in spite of
the exhaustion in them. “Since when did you go for the heavy-handed macho type,
Sam?”

“Business makes strange bedfellows,” Gabriel said calmly.

“Gabriel!” Samantha’s dismayed exclamation made Eric’s brow
rise another half inch.

“So he’s that type of business acquaintance, hmm?”

“Cut it out! Both of you! Damn it, Gabriel is here on business.
Aren’t you, Gabriel?” she challenged, whirling to confront him.

He stared at her, drinking in the sight of her furiously flushed
face and disheveled clothing. “You could say that.”

“I am saying it. Now do you want some coffee or don’t you?”
she snapped.

“I do, even if he doesn’t,” Eric volunteered, staring moodily
at his terminal screen. “I think I’ve got another long night ahead.”

Samantha shook her head urgently, anxiety flaring in her
gaze as she was recalled to her brother’s far more critical problem. “Eric, I
think you should get some sleep. You can’t work efficiently when you’re this
tired.”

“Believe me, Sam, I wouldn’t sleep a wink,” he retorted
dryly, punching a button on the machine. “Go get your ‘business acquaintance’
some coffee. Sounds like the two of you have a few things to talk about in private.”

“For a computer type, your brother displays an amazing amount
of people sense,” Gabriel declared firmly, taking hold of Samantha’s arm and
guiding her forcefully out of the parlor. “And I could use a shot of brandy
with that coffee if you’ve got it. I’m chilled to the bone. It’s going to take
me hours to warm up!”

“Gabriel, you can’t simply come charging in here and acting
as if you have a right to give orders like this!” Samantha’s protests were
somewhat diluted by the fact that she was being hustled down the hall. “If you’re
here to do business… “

“Oh, I am, I am.”

“Then you can damn well act a little more businesslike!”

“You never told me there was a third party involved in your
little scheme, Samantha. Where do you keep the pot?” He released her as they
walked into the kitchen.

“What third party? Just sit down, will you? You’re making me
nervous, the way you’re charging around here like a bull in a china shop!”

“I’m making you nervous! That’s a switch.” But he sat,
lowering himself into one of the ladder-back chairs at the kitchen table. He
watched Samantha as she began shoveling coffee in large quantities into the
automatic drip machine. “Tell me about Eric.”

“What’s to tell?” she grumbled, measuring water in a rather
rough fashion. “He’s my half brother. He’s staying here for a while,” she added
with sudden firmness. If Gabriel thought there was going to be another person in
the house tonight, he might not press to stay here himself. The last thing she
needed on top of everything else was to be confronted by the possibility of
another night in bed with Gabriel Sinclair. She was damn well going to keep
whatever edge her ultimatum had given her!

“He’s helping you with your big plans for taking on Buchanan?
Samantha, that’s going to be lousy coffee.” He got to his feet. “Here, let me
do it.”

She let herself be gently shouldered aside, too tired physically
to fight him. “Eric isn’t helping me with the Buchanan deal. Is that what you
meant by having a third party involved?”

Gabriel nodded, pouring the coffee back out of the machine
and
remeasuring
it carefully. “If he’s not part of
your scheme, then what in hell have the two of you been doing all night on that
computer? You both look exhausted.”

Samantha moved uneasily, taking the chair he had just
vacated. “Eric is working on an important program that he wants to finish and
take back with him to Los Angeles.” Poor, but she really couldn’t think very
straight at the moment. The long hours of the night and the morning were
beginning to tell. She wondered how much longer Eric would be able to go on
without sleep. He had been laboring twice as hard as she had.

“Must be one hell of a program to keep you both up all night!
Come on, Samantha, what’s going on? I get the feeling that whatever you and
your brother are working on, it’s important to you, as important even as our
deal.”

“Eric’s project just happens to have a deadline on it, that’s
all. My deal will wait a couple of days,” she mumbled. Then she brightened a
bit. “Gabriel, have you really decided to back me after all?”

He finished pouring carefully measured water into the
machine and turned on the switch before answering. She studied his back, aware
of the solid breadth of his shoulders. Disturbing memories of how those hard, smoothly
muscled shoulders had blocked out the moonlight as Gabriel had lowered himself
into her body that night in California jangled alive in her mind. Ruthlessly she
squashed the images. This was business.

“If you’re still determined to try your hand at outwitting Buchanan,
I’ll back you financially,” Gabriel said very seriously. He turned away from
the coffee machine, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across
his broad chest. He looked, Samantha thought, awfully implacable for a man who
had just surrendered to an ultimatum. She eyed him from beneath lowered lashes.
“There are, however,” he continued, “a few conditions.”

“The hell there are,” she sighed wearily, closing her eyes
completely and leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. Her jean-clad legs
stretched out in front of her. “Tell me about the conditions, Gabriel.”
Samantha groaned.

He hesitated. “Somehow you just don’t look like you’re up to
doing business,” he observed mildly. “Do you always exhaust yourself like this
when you’re working on a crash project?”

Her eyes flickered open and she regarded him balefully. “Tell
me about the conditions, Gabriel.”

The brackets at the edge of his mouth tightened ominously.
It occurred to Samantha that this man had a little practicing to do in his role
of supplicant. She had to keep reminding herself that he had come running after
her, asking for a partnership.

“Condition number one,” Gabriel growled, “is that I am not
going to be a totally silent partner. I’m not going to simply turn the money
over to you, Samantha, and let you handle everything. I’ll want a full voice in
every decision that needs making.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’ll louse it all up and you’ll
wind up with half interest in a restaurant instead of several hundred thousand
dollars in interest on your money?”

“I try to limit the risks,” he drawled.

“Working with me is a risk?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“But you’re willing to take the risk of financing me because
you can’t bear to turn your back on all that nice, easy money and the chance of
getting even with Buchanan, right?” she concluded in satisfaction.

He pulled himself away from the counter and reached for a
couple of coffee cups as the machine finished its task. “Samantha, honey, I know
you think you’re in the driver’s seat at the moment, but don’t go getting too uppity
on me, okay? I haven’t written out the check yet.”

She didn’t care for the slow, even way he said that. “Here,
give me one of those cups,” she murmured gruffly. “I’ll take it in to Eric.”

He filled the cup and handed it to her silently. Samantha
grabbed it and hurried out of the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to get away
from him for a moment. The way he seemed to fill her kitchen made her feel
strangely restless and a little jittery. Or perhaps the jitters were just a
result of all the coffee she had drank today, she decided reassuringly.

“Here you go, Eric. But I really think that you should quit.
Have a bite to eat and get some sleep. Surety that horrible man will give you a
day or two of grace! He doesn’t even know where you are, for heaven’s sake!”

“Who knows what he’ll do?” Eric reached for the coffee cup
with gratitude. “I’ve never dealt with this crowd before. But believe me, I get
the feeling they don’t extend a lot of grace periods!”

“How on earth did you ever find such a person in the first
place? Where does one go looking for a broker in industrial espionage?”
Samantha demanded unhappily.

“I don’t know where most people go looking,” Eric told her
wryly, “but I went looking in a computer. I tapped into some of those
information sources you use like the newspaper indexes and a few sources you
don’t use.”

“You tapped into… But, Eric, you were using the Thorndyke
computer, and I know Thorndyke doesn’t have a subscription to any of those
information sources. Victor was too cheap to buy the services.”

Eric regarded her pityingly. “Sam, for someone like me, a
paid subscription isn’t really necessary. I just used a telephone link to
connect with the particular computer I wanted to search and then I went in and took
what I wanted.”

Samantha stared at her half brother in awe. “You just casually
invaded a bunch of computer memory banks? Long distance? My God, Eric, you must
be a genius. A real genius! I’ve heard of people who know how to get into other
people’s computers, but I’ve never actually met one! And to think my own
brother can do it!”

Eric shrugged, taking his talent for granted. “Look where it
got me. In trouble with a man who probably moonlights for the Mafia! Jesus! How
could I have been so stupid?”

“You found this… this person in one of the computers you
searched?”

“I found some cases of industrial espionage which had been
kept on file in the computers of a couple of private firms who had, oh, used
this guy’s services. Once his name cropped up, I knew who to contact. For all
the good it did me.” Eric gulped coffee. “I’m glad your friend Sinclair will be
staying the night.”

Samantha shook her head in automatic reaction. “Who said he
was staying the night? Eric, I keep telling you, he’s a business acquaintance,
nothing more!”

“Sure.” But his blue eyes smiled with weary perception.

“Eric, I’m warning you, don’t turn into a pesky younger brother
at this stage in the game!”

He sobered. “I mean it, Sam. I’m glad he’s here. feel better
about staying another night now that there’s another man in the house. I was
thinking about moving out to a motel.”

“What on earth for?”

“So that you won’t be involved if the wrong people come
looking for me!” he snapped abruptly, setting down the coffee cup and going
back to work on the computer. “But Sinclair looks as if he could handle trouble
if it walked in the front door.”