Season of Strangers (30 page)

“He's great, Julie. A little too bossy at times, but he's sweet and caring. And he's, well…very sexy, too. I'm lucky to have him.”

Compared to Jimmy Osborn, the man was a prince, but Julie didn't say so. Laura felt bad enough about that incident as it was. “Call me on my cell when you get there and leave a number where I can reach you.”

“I will.”

“Have a good time, Laura.”

“Thanks, sis.”

Laura rang off and Julie sank back against her chair. Between Laura and Patrick, she was turning into a nervous wreck. The latter stuck his head through the door.

“Are we still on for dinner?” He was smiling, looking for all the world as if he didn't have a care. Julie wanted to strangle him.

“I'm afraid not, Patrick. Owen called. He's decided to buy some of the property adjacent to his house and he wants me to handle the deal. We're getting together tonight to go over the terms of the offer.” She hadn't agreed to Owen's dinner invitation when he had called, but she meant to call him and accept it now. Anything to avoid being with Patrick. She needed time to think.

Patrick frowned. “The man's going to wind up owning half of Malibu just so he'll have an excuse to see you.”

Her chin hiked into the air. “Owen doesn't need an excuse to see me. We've been friends for years.”

“I told you before, he isn't interested in being just a friend.”

Julie glared and Patrick's frown deepened.

“Or maybe you like the fact he's so interested. Maybe all that money makes him interesting to you.”

She didn't miss the note of jealousy. Patrick looked astounded by it, but at the moment she didn't care. “Money isn't everything, Patrick. But you don't believe that, do you? You've always thought money was an end in itself and you'll do just about anything to get it—won't you?”

“What the hell are you talking about? All I did was ask you to dinner.”

Julie grabbed her bag off the sofa, her BlackBerry off her desk, and several files she needed to work on at home. She stuffed them into her briefcase and headed for the door. “Have a good evening, Patrick. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we were—”

But she only waved and kept on walking. She and Patrick had been together nearly every night for the past few weeks. Not tonight. She wasn't ready to confront him and she wasn't about to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Damn you, Patrick Donovan.
Evidence or not, tomorrow she intended to have it out with him.

She wondered if he would tell her the truth.

 

Owen Mallory stood by as the stately, silver-haired maître d' pulled out Julie's chair. Owen waited for her to be seated, then sat down himself. They were dining at a little French restaurant in Palos Verdes called La Rive Gauche. With its simple French provençal decor and excellent cuisine, it was a favorite of his, and not too far a drive from Oceanside, his Malibu estate. Especially not far in the back of his new white Mercedes limo.

His gaze traveled back to Julie, ran over the short black sheath dress that tastefully accented her curves. She wore small pearl earrings, and a single strand of pearls that drew his gaze to her breasts. She had a very nice bosom, he thought, having dreamed on several occasions of how those lovely white mounds might feel in his hands.

“Would you like a cocktail before dinner?” he asked, thinking she had a pair of great legs, too. Solidly muscled yet shapely, lightly tanned, just enough to make them sexy.

“I'll have a Stoli martini straight up,” she said, and Owen arched a brow. Julie was a white wine drinker. Rarely anything stronger. “It's been a long day,” she explained. “Obviously, not one of my best.”

“Obviously.” He turned to the waiter. “I'll have the same.”

They drank their drinks, discussing the offer he wished to make on the property next to his, then ordered dinner, a salad of seasonal greens and raspberry vinaigrette, rack of lamb for two, garlic mashed potatoes, and French cut string beans with slivered almonds.

When they finished their martinis, he ordered an expensive bottle of Bordeaux, which the wine steward opened so that it could breathe. Still, it wasn't until halfway through the meal—and the bottle—that Julie began to relax.

He studied her over the top of his wineglass. “Why don't you tell me what's bothering you, my dear? You've been nervous as a kitten all evening. It's obvious that something is wrong.”

He took a sip of his wine, watched the legs of the wine forming against the bowl of the glass. “Trouble, perhaps, between you and your…boss?” He knew she had been seeing Patrick Donovan and no longer simply in a professional vein. It galled him she would become involved with a man like that, no matter how handsome he was. He had always believed Julie had better sense.

“No trouble,” she said. “At least not exactly.” She hesitated a moment. “There is Laura, of course. I'm terribly worried about her. She seems a little better lately, but I'm not sure how long it will last.”

“She still believes all that rubbish about flying saucers?”

“I'm afraid she does. Who knows, maybe it's the truth. It's possible, I suppose. It doesn't really matter. The important thing is for Laura to put it behind her. To find some sort of stability in her life that will make her happy.”

“I realize your sister has problems. The fact is you've been worried about your sister since the day we first met. But I don't think that's what's wrong. I have to believe this is something else.”

Julie leaned toward him over the table, and the candle in the center flickered with the movement. Even softened by the glow, her pretty face looked tense. “You're right, Owen. And now that you've brought it up, I could use your help.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Go on.”

“There are some men I need to find out about. A friend…one of my clients…is involved with them. Do you think you might be able to help me?”

“I imagine I could do that.”
For a price,
he wanted to add.
Getting rid of Patrick Donovan and looking at me with half the interest you do him.
“What are their names?”

“Sandini and McPherson. I don't know any more than that. They're big money real estate players, though. At least I think they are. And perhaps a little on the shady side.”

Owen took a sip of his wine. The bouquet was excellent, with just a hint of blackberry. He set the glass back down on the table. “And who, may I ask, is this
client
you're so worried about?”

“I-I'd rather not say. At least not yet. Not until I know a little bit more about what's going on.”

He smiled. He liked the idea of having Julie in his debt. He liked having just about anyone obligated to him. It made getting what one wanted far simpler in the long run.

And for several frustrating years, he had wanted Julie Ferris.

“I'll see to the matter first thing in the morning. I have people who are very good at this sort of thing. I'm sure we'll have the answer in a couple of days.”

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand, her fingers small and feminine against the white linen cloth. “Thank you, Owen. I hope you know how much I value our friendship.”

Friendship, indeed, he thought. He was determined to have far more than that, but he didn't say so. He didn't want to frighten her away and he knew without a doubt that he would. Timing was everything. He had waited this long. He could wait a little longer.

Perhaps giving her the information she wanted would do the trick.

Coupled with the fact he also intended to discover exactly what men like Sandini and McPherson had to do with Julie Ferris.

 

Jealousy
. Val knew what the word meant. In theory. He also knew it was an emotion Patrick Donovan had rarely experienced and never over a woman. Which meant there was nothing for Val to go on. In this, he was on his own.

It was almost midnight. He had been pacing the floor in front of the sofa for more than an hour. For the third night in row, Julie had been too busy to see him. She was avoiding him, plain and simple. But why?

The only thought that came to mind was Owen Mallory. The man was handsome, intelligent, and rich as Croesus. Why shouldn't a woman like Julie be attracted to a man like that? He knew very well that Mallory was attracted to her.

Which was where, he supposed, the jealousy came in.

It was an ugly emotion. A gnawing sort of anger with no definable source. It felt like a fist to the stomach, tied him up into knots and wouldn't let go. The thought of Julie with Mallory made him want to shout with rage, to storm over to Julie's and beat down the damnable door.

It wasn't like Patrick to behave that way, and it certainly wasn't like Val. Jealousy was far too volatile an emotion to have survived through the ages on Toril. So where had it come from? How could it even exist? And what the hell should he do about it?

Val glanced at the clock. By now, Julie was probably in bed. He could try to call her again, but she wasn't answering her phone. At least she wasn't picking up for him.

Maybe she's with Mallory. Maybe they're sleeping together.
He didn't want to think it, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Patrick wouldn't have had a qualm about involving himself with more than one lover. Maybe Julie felt that way, too.

Damn it, he needed to know.

He was supposed to be studying Julie Ferris, he rationalized. To do that he needed to understand how that mind of hers worked. As a scientist, if their relationship was over, he needed to understand why.

Logic was the final prodding he needed. Val grabbed his camel-hair sport coat off the back of a chair, snatched up his car keys, and headed out the door. One way or another he was going to end this ridiculous behavior.

At least once he knew the truth, he wouldn't be jealous anymore.

 

She meant to wait for word from Owen, she really did. She had successfully avoided Patrick for three days, but Owen still hadn't called. When Patrick appeared at her front door just minutes before midnight, his jaw set and refusing to leave, she had no choice but to let him in.

“I want to know what the hell is going on,” he demanded. “I want to know why you've been avoiding me. Is it Mallory? If it is, at least have the decency to say so.”

Julie eyed him a moment, saw the turbulence in those stormy blue eyes and something more. She had hurt him, she saw with a bit of amazement, wishing she had been honest with him from the start. He might be involved in shady business dealings but so far he had played fair in his dealings with her.

“It isn't Owen. Owen and I are just friends. I told you that before.”

“Then what is it?”

Her head came up. She looked him square in the face. “In two ugly words—Sandini and McPherson. I know you're involved with them in some sort of crooked real estate deal.”

For a moment he just stood there. Then the tension drained from his shoulders and a faint smile curved his lips. “That's it? That's what you're mad about?”

She felt like slapping his face. “This might be funny to you, but it's deadly serious to me. Innocent people are involved in this. How could you do it, Patrick? How could you sell yourself, sell everything you've worked for down the drain for a few lousy bucks?”

“I take it you were listening when my ‘associates' came in the other day.”

“I didn't do it on purpose, but yes. I heard most of what they had to say.”

“Then you realize the reason they came to see me is that I wasn't cooperating with them.”

“I gathered that, yes. I also heard you tell them you'd be happy to cooperate in the future—more than happy, since you're in for a share of the profits.”

“I told them that, yes. Put simply—I lied.”

“What!”

He made a sound. She could swear it was a chuckle. “I never intended for that deal to go down the way it did. I borrowed money from Sandini and McPherson with every intention of paying it back. When Brookhaven failed and I wasn't able to pay back the loan, they took over the project and formed the Westwind Corporation. Once I understood the fraud they were planning, I've done everything in my power to be certain that they fail.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. I told you—I lied. I'm not going to convince the Teachers' Pension Fund to buy those worthless notes. I'm going to convince them not to.”

Julie said nothing. She wanted to believe him. She wanted it more than anything in the world. She searched for the truth in those beautiful blue eyes and there was nothing furtive, nothing insincere in the steady look he gave her.

“If you don't do what they say, what will happen?”

“I'll lose a lot of money, but I've already done that. The business is running in the black again. I'll survive.”