Double Dealing (28 page)

She recognized Eric’s instinctive rejection of the idea that
his sister might be sleeping with Gabriel in order to pay off some sort of
debt. She also saw Gabriel’s implacable decision to have his relationship with
Samantha be fully accepted for what it was. He was claiming a lover’s rights
and making his position clear to the one member of Samantha’s family who might
feel an obligation to protect her.

“What you and Samantha have between you,” Eric began slowly,
“is your business as long as you’re not planning on forcing her to sleep with
you because of what you did for me.”

“Samantha and I are quite capable of working out our own
relationship. You’re not involved, Eric. What I did last night was for her.”

“You don’t give an inch, do you?” Eric said almost admiringly.
“It’s take me as I am or get the hell out of Dodge, right?”

“Right.”

Eric let out his breath on a long sigh. Then he smiled crookedly.
“I don’t know why I got worried there for a minute. You made it pretty clear
last night that you’ll take care of her. Just chalk it up to a brother’s
natural protective instincts.”

Gabriel nodded once, shortly. “All right. I’ll accept that.”

“I guess,” Eric mused
consideringly
,
“that lovers tend to be a little protective in their own right. Which is probably
why you aren’t sure you like me. You blame me for the mess Sam got into last
night.”

“I’ll admit that was my initial reaction,” Gabriel allowed sardonically.

“Well, I can’t say I blame you,” Eric grunted. “It was my
fault.”

Gabriel relented. “I have it on the best authority that young
men tend to be a little wild at times and land themselves in trouble.”

Eric grinned as the tension between the two men broke. “Don’t
you remember what you were like ten years ago, Gabe?”

“I seem to have been somewhat retarded in my development. I’m
making up now for lost time.” Gabriel sighed. He glanced across the room at a
stonyfaced
Samantha. “Are my scrambled eggs hard enough, honey?”

“Like rocks!” she hissed.

“I can’t wait.”

“What the hell do you mean, the restaurant’s been sold? You
told me everything was under control, Ingram. I’m not paying you for screw-ups
like this! If we’ve got trouble on this Phoenix deal because you didn’t keep on
top of the situation, your ass is going to be on the firing line.”

The thing about Drew Buchanan, Jeff Ingram decided with a
strange sense of detached admiration, was that he could make chopped liver out
of you without ever raising his voice. Ingram drew a long, steadying breath. He
had been dreading this scene since early this morning when the agent in Phoenix
had relayed the news that the parcel of land with the restaurant on it had
suddenly gone off the market. It had been sold, and no one yet knew who the new
buyer was. Ingram had been so sure that the restaurant wasn’t going to be a
problem. So sure that the old man who owned it wanted to sell and would do so
at a more than reasonable price when the Buchanan Group made its offer through
its agents.

But Jeff Ingram hadn’t made the offer in time. Someone else
had scooped the old, dilapidated Mexican restaurant and along with it a chunk
of land that was crucial to the group’s forthcoming development project.

So here he was getting the full Buchanan coal-raking
treatment. And the bastard never even raised his voice. Every word had been
delivered in a cold, emotionless tone that conveyed the man’s displeasure far
more effectively than any amount of chest beating and yelling would have done.
Ingram had no doubt at all that his job was on the line because of that
goddamned restaurant.

“It’s probably just a coincidence, sir,” he tried carefully.

Buchanan arched one brow. “Coincidence, Ingram? There are no
coincidences when you’re talking seventy-million-dollar deals.”

Ingram tried again, striving to keep his own voice as cool
and logical as Buchanan’s, just as if the thought of losing a
forty-thousand-dollar-a-year job didn’t bother him in the least. “Sir, the
owner of that restaurant has been wanting to sell for some time. We figured
there was no rush to make him an offer because there isn’t much of a market for
run-down taco stands in Phoenix at the moment. We didn’t think anyone else
would be interested, and if we’d rushed in too enthusiastically with an offer,
people would have gotten suspicious.”

“So you let the least attractive properties wait until last.”

“Of course. Otherwise too many questions would have been
raised about why unattractive parcels in downtown Phoenix were suddenly going
like hotcakes. “

“You should have taken an option on that restaurant, Jeff,”
Buchanan remarked, swiveling his chair around so that he could view the ocean.

“Taking an option would have had the same effect, sir. It
might have alerted someone. We already had so many options going… “

“Do you know who bought the restaurant?”

Ingram ground his teeth in silent frustration and then said
softly, “Not yet. We’re working on it. Should have the information by noon.”

“Jeff, when people are on the verge of lousing up
seventy-million-dollar deals, I do not like to hear them using the word ‘we.’ “

Ingram clenched his fist and then consciously unclenched it.
“I’ll have the information by noon.”

“A little sooner, perhaps, Jeff?”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Your best has been sadly lacking lately, hasn’t it?”
Buchanan swung the chair back around, his eyes clear ice. Ingram wondered
fleetingly if the man ever got excited or showed any real passion of any kind.
He probably faked something up for that chesty Galloway woman when they were in
bed together, but Ingram was willing to bet that it was pure theatrics—the
right words, the right sounds, but, above all, controlled. Of course, Carol
Galloway didn’t exactly come across as the wanton, melt-in-your-arms type,
either. Jeff had seen her a couple of times on Buchanan’s arm, and while he had
to admit there was a lot to be said for a nice pair of breasts, he, personally,
liked a little warmth in a woman’s eyes to go along with them.

Perhaps he’d outgrow that idiosyncrasy when he got to
Buchanan’s level, he decided sardonically. Then again, if he didn’t salvage
that damned restaurant deal, his trip to the executive suite was going to be
badly sidetracked.

“Sir, I regret this foul-up with the restaurant. But I still
think it’s probably just an unfortunate coincidence. The old man found someone
who would take the place off his hands, and he sold out. We’ll get it back.”

“I know we’ll get it back, Jeff,” Buchanan said silkily. “The
question is how much will I have to pay to get it back. If whoever bought that
restaurant knows the true value of the land to me, it’s going to cost. We’re in
too deep to back out of the project, and if the son of a bitch knows what’s
going on, he’ll know that, too. That restaurant should have cost no more than
thirty or forty grand. If the new owner knows the real value, they could hold
out for half a million or more. I don’t like being made a fool of, Ingram. I
don’t like having some joker think he can take me to the cleaners.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Find out who bought that goddamn taco stand.” Buchanan
dismissed his assistant with a disdainful nod. “I want to know by eleven o’clock
this morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jeff Ingram walked out of Buchanan’s office with his usual
brisk, efficient-looking stride, but inside he knew he was already running. He
had to get that information, and he had to get it fast. And then he had to pray
to whatever gods watched out for up-and-coming-fast-track executives that
whoever had chosen to go into the taco business in Phoenix didn’t know what a
gold mine he was sitting on. Shit. He doubted he’d ever eat a taco again.

***

The information was relayed from Phoenix by a phone call
from one of the real estate agents the Buchanan Group had been using. It came
in at ten forty-five, just as Ingram found himself understanding why so many of
his colleagues had prescriptions for Valium. Fifteen minutes before the
deadline. Talk about taking things down to the wire.

But the name he jotted down on his notepad wasn’t
reassuringly anonymous. Maitland. Where the hell had he heard that name? Surely
not the same Maitland who’d once had his job? Christ! Wasn’t anything going to
go right today?

With deep foreboding Ingram made his way back up to Buchanan’s
office. There, feeling as if he might very well be signing his own death
warrant, he handed the piece of paper with the scribbled name on it to his
boss.

And for the first time since he had met Drew Buchanan, Jeff
had the satisfaction of seeing the man’s unwavering control momentarily
shattered.

“The bitch!” Buchanan ground out as he read the name. “That
damned bitch. What the hell does she think she’s playing at?”

Ingram waited, uncertain how to deal with the unexpected
flash of frustrated rage. It was so unlike Buchanan. When Buchanan simply
continued to sit there, staring at the name on the paper, Jeff’ finally decided
to say something. “Shall I check into the matter further? Want me to locate
her?”

Slowly, suppressing his fury with a supreme effort of will,
Buchanan lifted his head. “Of course I want you to locate her. Don’t worry, it
won’t be hard. She wants to be found now.”

Ingram swallowed, hiding the nervous reaction manfully. “You
think this is all deliberate, sir?”

“Oh, yes,” Buchanan said very evenly, totally back under
control. “It’s quite deliberate. I taught Samantha Maitland everything she
knows about business, real business. And now she has the gall to think she can
use it against me.”

“Sir, I don’t understand. Why would she want to tackle the
Buchanan Group? How could she have known about the Phoenix deal?”

“The woman had her weak points, but lack of intelligence
wasn’t one of them,” Buchanan grated. “Get out of here, Jeff. I want to know
where she’s staying, what she’s doing for a living these days, who she’s
sleeping with, and what kind of car she’s driving. I want to know everything
you can find out by five thirty this afternoon.”

He swung the swivel chair back around to face the window,
listening as Ingram quietly left the room. Then he looked down again at the
piece of paper in his hand.

Samantha Maitland, you little conniving bitch. I always knew
you’d throw me a curve someday. But I’ve been playing hardball a lot longer
than you have, lady. You don’t lack nerve and you don’t lack brains but I know
your weaknesses. I’ll find the right one to use to crush you.

He crumpled the paper in his palm and slammed it into the
garbage can. Who the hell did she think she was to pull this kind of play on
him? There was only one reason for it, of course. She wanted revenge.

Revenge. He repeated the word in his head. A woman who
wanted revenge must still be carrying a torch. Samantha was a woman scorned,
and that meant she was at the mercy of her own emotions. She wouldn’t be
thinking with total clarity. Not that he’d ever really been able to comprehend
exactly how she did think, he reminded himself grimly.

But a woman’s desire for revenge on a man should be a fairly
simple, clear-cut situation. She must still want him on some level, or she
wouldn’t be investing the emotional energy it took to get even.

Whatever her feelings toward him, they had to be strong.
Good God! She must have been watching his movements for the past three years!
To have gotten a handle on the Phoenix deal so early, she must have been lying
in wait for him. He’d been stalked all this time and hadn’t even been aware of
it.

The knowledge wasn’t pleasant. Drew Buchanan liked to be
totally in charge of every aspect of his life. How had the bitch snuck up on
him like this?

Was he prepared to watch a multimillion-dollar deal become
completely
snafued
because of Samantha Maitland? At
the very least she would hold him up for a fortune. At the worst she might simply
refuse to sell at all.

Either way his ego and his bankbook were going to take one
hell of a beating. He had to break her and do it quickly before she had a
chance to become too high on her own power.

The way to break a woman was through her emotions. He’d held
her in the palm of his hand once; he could do it again.

And if seducing her didn’t work, he’d find the weapon which
would. Samantha had her vulnerable points. Everyone did. He’d find the soft
spots and use them against her.

At five thirty Jeff Ingram’s report was almost complete.

“Here’s her Seattle address, sir. Some island in the sound.
She’s got a going little concern peddling business news and information to a
bunch of client firms who pay her well for the research she provides. The car’s
a Fiat. There’s just one thing I couldn’t pin down,” he concluded hesitantly.

“What’s that?” Buchanan pulled the report toward him and
scanned it rapidly.

“Well,” Jeff cleared his throat. “There doesn’t seem to be
any indication of a particular man in her life. She dates but… “

“But she’s not sleeping with someone on a regular basis?
Good. That should make things easier,” Buchanan growled, turning over the
second page of the short report.

“Easier, sir?”

“Never mind. Have my secretary book me on a flight to Seattle
tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. Uh, do you want anything else this evening?” “Get
lost, Ingram. You’ve done enough damage for one day.”

***

Gabriel would be arriving the day after tomorrow.

Samantha pressed the button which turned off the printer and
collected the neatly piled stack of reports she had just generated from the
computer. This week most of her clients were going to be pleased. The
indications were that the big grain deal with the U.S.S.R. was going to go
through, the stock market had settled down to a more normal pace, and the heavy
storms in the Midwest were finally abating. Beneath all those unrelated facts
lay a wealth of financial news. The business world was hungry for information.
It needed it to survive in a way that no other field of endeavor did.