A Conflict of Interest (12 page)

Max shot Jake a dark look.

“What?” Jake asked with mock innocence.

“Can we keep Gillian out of this?” asked Max.

“She’s fine,” said Cara, thinking her sister had obviously been right about Jake’s interest. No huge surprise there.

Jake dumped the remainder of the almonds into his palm. “Had dinner?” he asked Cara.

It was on the tip of her tongue to admit she had, but her stomach rumbled beneath the black dress. “I could eat,” she admitted.

Jake came to his feet. “Let’s grab a table.”

“You are not going to use dinner as an excuse to grill her for information,” Max warned.

“Gillian’s on her way here,” said Cara, tucking her tiny black evening purse under her arm.

Jake pulled up short. “Hello?”

Even Max looked interested by that.

“She’s flying Ariella down from Seattle in her jet.”

Gillian had made the decision to come to L.A. the second she’d heard Max was in town and that Cara was going to be forced to do a show with him. Cara tried to tell her she didn’t need hand-holding. But Gillian had insisted she did. And maybe Gillian was right. It would be good to have her here.

“Seattle,” Max mused under his breath. “Not a bad place to hide.”

“When’s she getting here?” asked Jake.

Max shook his head at Jake. He motioned to a passing waiter and asked for a table.

“Tomorrow night,” Cara answered Jake, falling into step behind Max as they wended their way across the patio.

Jake walked beside her. “Moral support?” he asked.

Cara shot him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“I know about you and Max.”

Cara was struck speechless.

“Trying to keep your hands off each other,” Jake finished.

“What?” she managed to choke out.

Max came to a halt beside a round table, turning and pulling out a chair for Cara.

“You
told
him?” she demanded, refusing to sit down.

The waiter glanced from one to the other and smoothly withdrew.

“I can be trusted,” Jake put in.

“We’re better off with him covering for us than snooping around.”

“You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Did you tell Gillian?”

“Yes, but...” That was different. Gillian was her sister. She was intensely loyal, and she’d never do anything to harm Cara.

Max lifted a brow.

“That’s different,” she finished.

“How?” he asked reasonably.

Wasn’t it obvious? “She’s my sister.”

“I’ve put my life in Jake’s hands more than once,” said Max.

“And I’ve put my life in his,” said Jake.

Cara turned to look at Jake. Despite her anger, she regretted that she was put in the position of insulting him. He’d always struck her as a perfectly decent guy, and none of this was his fault. But the only way to keep secrets was to hold them close.

“I’ve got your back,” he told her, sincerity in the depths of his gray eyes. “You should sit down and have something to eat.”

Something told Cara to trust him. Max obviously did. She wasn’t happy about Max sharing, but she had to believe Jake wouldn’t betray Max.

She sat down in the padded rattan chair.

A split second later, the waiter reappeared, placing a white linen napkin in her lap with a flourish.

Max and Jake took the chairs on either side of her.

“Wine?” asked Max, reaching for the dark green, leather-bound list.

Just then, another waiter arrived with the drinks they’d left at the bar, setting them on the table.

“I think I’ll stick with the juice,” she answered, lifting the glass and taking a sip.

“Afraid of losing control around me?” he teased.

“Yes.”

Her answer seemed to throw him, and their gazes locked.

Jake glanced from one to the other, his voice going low as he bent across the table. “Just so I’m clear. Do you want me to cover up what happened in Montana, or do you need me to stop it from happening again while we’re here?”

“We’re fine,” said Max, but just then his knee brushed Cara’s. An electric current ran the length of her thigh, settling at the apex, causing her muscles to contract. She knew she had to draw away, break the connection, but she was powerless to do it.

“You sure?” Jake drawled. “Because I’m available for, you know, standing guard at hotel room doors or hosing you down.”

Max turned to frown at his friend.

Jake gave an unrepentant grin. “Unless, of course, I make some headway with Gillian. In that case, you two are on your own.”

“Let’s talk about the show,” said Max. His tone turned crisp, but his eyes were still warm when they returned to Cara, and he kept his knee pressed up against hers.

“Sure,” she squeaked, earning a curious glance from Jake.

“We’ve been told we have two minutes with Ariella. It’ll be pretaped, three scripted questions, no deviation.”

“Can you tell us about your childhood?” Cara listed the questions Lynn had given to her. “Do you know anything about your birth parents? And did you ever have reason to suspect President Morrow might be your father?”

“I can live with those,” said Max.

“I’ll be there to make sure you don’t deviate.” She’d seen enough of Max’s work to know he’d try to catch Ariella off guard by chatting casually, then create some B-roll footage to exploit later.

“I’ll behave,” Max vowed, but something in his tone made her nervous.

Max shifted, and Cara was quickly reminded that he was still touching her. How had she forgotten?

“I’ll also need to see the edited version.”

“Nadine agreed to that?” Max sounded skeptical.

“I guess Lynn can outnegotiate Nadine.”

Jake laughed. “Wow. Then I’d hate to be across the table from Lynn.”

“She’s a force of nature,” said Cara.

“You can’t fight nature,” Max told her in a soft voice.

She tried to pull away from his touch, but her limbs weren’t cooperating. He was pressed more fully against her now, and her body was absorbing little pulses of sensation.

“Am I missing something?” asked Jake, taking in their expressions.

“Nothing,” said Max, but he didn’t back off. “Nadine also wants a few minutes on the summit and a couple of clips of the president,” he told Cara. “What’s he going to be talking about here?”

“Energy.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “Natural gas. And technology, aerospace and aviation in particular. They’re a big deal under the free trade talks.”

“Manning Aviation?” Max asked Jake. “We can probably get something on the Stram-4000 prototype.”

Just then, the waiter arrived, setting a gold-embossed, leather-bound menu in front of each of them.

“You should be talking to Gillian,” Cara put in without thinking.

Jake instantly glanced up.

“She’s working on a technology deal with China and another one with India. She has exactly the kind of company that will benefit from these trade negotiations.”

Max and Jake exchanged a look.

“Would she do it?” asked Max.

“Is her deal confidential?” asked Jake.

Cara hadn’t thought about that. “We’d have to ask her.”

“I’ll do that,” Jake quickly volunteered. “I can pick her up at the airport.” Then he smirked. “But you two have to promise to behave while I’m gone.”

Cara couldn’t help stealing a glance at Max.

He was looking straight back, his eyes smoldering with obvious desire. She felt the impact right down to her toes.

Nine

“D
o you think it’s fate?” Gillian called from the bedroom of her suite at the Jade Bay hotel.

“I think it’s karma,” Cara replied, moving from the dining room to the butler’s pantry, then peeking into the powder room. “Clearly I did something terrible in a past life. Why do you get such huge hotel rooms?”

Gillian was on the eighty-first floor, with a panoramic view of the Santa Monica Pier. Cara was down on ten, with a view of the lobby roof and the financial building across the street.

Gillian emerged through the double doors of the bedroom. “I don’t book them myself. I think we have a travel person who does that. And you couldn’t have done anything bad in a past life. You’re an incredibly good person.”

“Then why is Max in L.A.? Why did Ariella offer to do his show? And why did I open my big mouth and tell them you had a deal with China?”

“It’ll be publicity for me,” said Gillian. “That never hurts.”

“So, clearly, you were very good in a past life.”

Gillian grinned at that.

“They want to film your interview at the Manning Aviation facility. Their jet prototype has a technology angle.”

“Being pregnant’s not a cosmic punishment, you know,” Gillian pointed out.

Cara wandered to the wet bar, checking out the liquor selection and the complimentary hors d’oeuvres and glancing at the dozens of crystal glasses in assorted shapes and sizes. “The situation feels like a punishment.”

“You should tell him.”

Cara shook her head.

“He might surprise you.”

“He’s not going to surprise me.” Cara prided herself on being honest and practical.

Gillian moved across the room. “He’s going to know eventually.” She put her hand gently on Cara’s stomach. “This little guy or girl is not going to stay hidden forever.”

“I have a while yet.”

“If you’re not going to tell him, then you need to get some distance from Max.”

Cara gave a pained laugh. “I came all the way across the country.”

“Not that kind of distance. Maybe find yourself a new boyfriend. Make it obvious you’re dating someone else.”

“And bring them in on a conspiracy?” Cara couldn’t see that working.

“Max needs to think it’s not his baby.”

“Yeah, I know he does,” Cara admitted softly.

But for the moment, Cara needed to stop dwelling on her problems. She twisted open a bottle of imported water and helped herself to a savory pastry. “Dear sister, have you actually gotten used to all this luxury?”

It was Gillian’s turn to glance around the massive suite. “I usually end up hosting business meetings and impromptu receptions. So having the big table is a plus.”

“We could throw one heck of a party here,” Cara noted.

The living and dining areas could fit thirty or forty people; add to that the huge deck, and the number probably went up to seventy. The dining table alone sat fourteen. The master suite was twice the size of Cara’s hotel room.

“You want to have a party?” Gillian asked.

Cara shook her head. “The president arrives tomorrow, and I’ve got two formal dinners in a row. And I’m so tired lately. By ten, I’m ready to fall into bed. And hungry. I swear I could eat five meals a day.”

“You should be eating well.”

“I’m definitely eating very well. But I will be happy to get home to my own bed.”

“I got Ariella set up with a lab in D.C.,” said Gillian, changing the topic. “She’s heading home after the show to take the DNA test.”

Cara had seen Ariella briefly when they had arrived at the hotel. But Gillian had arranged for private security, who’d whisked her up to her own room right away.

“How’s she doing?” Cara asked softly.

Gillian moved to one of the comfy sofa groupings. “Ariella’s fine. Better than I expected. You’re the one I’m worried about. The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not good for you to be around Max.”

“It would be better if he wasn’t here,” Cara readily agreed, sinking down into a cream-colored armchair. “It all just feels so complicated. I know what I’m supposed to do. I know how I’m supposed to feel.”

Gillian sat down across from her. “But you don’t?”

“He’s so...I don’t know. I mean, I’m not supposed to want him. I shouldn’t even like him, because he’s so obstinate and sarcastic. But he’s smart, Gilly. He’s funny. And every time he touches me, my entire body lights up.”

Gillian sat forward. “He’s been touching you?”

“Not like that. Inadvertently, little brushes, things like that.”

“They’re on purpose,” Gillian told her with authority.

“I know they’re on purpose,” Cara admitted. “And I don’t pull away. It’s a little game.”

“I know that little game. It’s called playing with fire.”

Cara couldn’t help a reflexive grin. “Do you think that’s what makes it so sexy? That it’s illicit and clandestine?”

“Illicit and clandestine always makes things sexy.”

“So, maybe it’s not just Max. Maybe I’d feel this way about any guy who was off-limits.”

“Maybe.” But Gillian looked doubtful. Then she paused, seeming to choose her words. “Cara, is there any chance you’ve fallen in love with him?”

Cara’s stomach caved in on itself. “No,” she insisted with a shake of her head. “No. It’s not that.”

It couldn’t be that. Falling in love with Max would be a colossal mistake. And, anyway, she hadn’t known him nearly long enough to have fallen in love.

“I like him,” she told Gillian. “But I don’t love him. I mean, I admire some things about him. But on some fundamental levels, like how we feel about family and children, we’re on two completely different planets.”

“That’s good,” Gillian told her with conviction.

“It’s great,” Cara readily agreed. Maybe if she said it often enough, it would come true.

* * *

Since Cara knew Ariella so well, she could tell she was nervous on the stage of the theater. But to a casual onlooker, Ari would only look poised and beautiful. Max sat in the opposite armchair, and the two were surrounded by a jumble of cameras, cables, lights and bustling crew members.

Cara stood off to one side, her heart going out to Ariella. She was incredibly brave to do this for the president.

Finally, it got quiet. The director gave a signal, and everyone stepped out of the shot. The sound and camera crews confirmed their readiness, and Max sat straight in his chair, putting on his formal interviewer’s expression.

“We’re here in L.A. with Ariella Winthrop, who has been in hiding since news broke of her possible link to President Morrow.”

Cara wasn’t crazy about the in-hiding reference, but it wasn’t enough to shut it down.

“Ariella, welcome to the show.” Max turned on the charm. “We all know you were adopted. Can you tell us about your childhood with Berry and Frank Winthrop?”

“Thank you, Max. I’m pleased to be here. The Winthrops were wonderful parents. They raised me in Chester, Montana. My father was very involved in the community. He coached my softball team.” She gave what looked like a fond, wistful smile. “I wasn’t a star player, but I loved spending Sundays with my father. My mother worked from home, so she was always there when I came home from school. She loved to bake. I kept her secret recipes, and they were the foundation of my current catering and event planning business.”

“I understand your parents were killed in a light plane crash?”

Cara moved into Max’s line of sight, giving him a warning glare for going off script.

But Ariella stepped up with aplomb.

“I miss them every day,” she said. Then she stopped talking, leaving it to Max to fix the silence.

Cara smiled.

“Do you know anything about your birth parents?” Max asked.

Ariella shook her head. “I always knew I was adopted. My mother used to tell me they picked me because I was the best baby in the world. I understood the records were confidential, and I respected that. Many people have valid reasons for giving a baby up for adoption. And thank goodness they make that unselfish decision. I couldn’t have asked for a better childhood, Max.”

“Do you think the president lied about—”

“Stop the filming.” Cara marched right into the camera shot, holding her hand in front of it, ensuring they wouldn’t be able to use the question.

She glared at Max. “Stop it. Right now.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

“Like hell,” she muttered.

He grinned at her and pointed to his live mike.

“Don’t do it again,” she warned.

“I’m trying my best.”

“Ms. Cranshaw,” the director called out in obvious frustration. “Can you please get out of my camera shot?”

“Tell your interviewer to stick to the script.”

“Stick to the script, Max,” the director parroted without a trace of conviction.

Cara stepped back, staying poised and ready.

“Ariella,” Max began again. “Before the inaugural ball, did you ever have reason to suspect President Morrow might be your father?”

“No reason at all, Max. I understand the American people are anxious to find out. But I have to say, I have the utmost respect for the president. I look at his positions on the economy, health care and international diplomacy, and I can’t help but admire him. The voters made a great decision when they elected him, and I’m sure he will meet all of our expectations.”

Ariella stopped speaking, and Cara all but cheered.

Max opened his mouth, but he caught Cara’s warning glare and seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it.

The director called a halt, and Ariella got to her feet.

Max stood. “Have you taken a DNA test?” he asked conversationally.

“Don’t answer that.” Cara quickly scooted in. “You’re still wearing a microphone.”

Ariella stood silently while the techs removed her mike and Max’s.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” said Max.

“I can,” Cara put in tartly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” Ariella said to Max.

“I hope you’re doing okay,” he responded, looking genuinely concerned.

“I’m—”

“Ariella,” Cara warned. “He’s not on our side.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Max said to Cara, a rebuke in his tone.

“He seems like a good guy,” Ariella told Cara. “You should really give him a chance.”

Cara wished she could. But she didn’t dare.

* * *

Max suspected Cara was keeping her distance from him at the Manning Aviation facility. She was far across the big hangar, chatting with a company vice president. The man was obviously taking advantage of having some face time with a member of the president’s staff. The segment including the interview with Gillian had been taped and was finished. Most of the film crew had left, and Max and Jake were now checking out the new, single-engine planes being built at the facility.

They were ten passenger propeller planes, hot off the assembly line. They came with bush wheels, floats and skis. Both Max and Jake had private pilot licenses, and Max had been thinking about moving from his Cessna to something a little larger.

“Thought I’d try for another date with Gillian tonight,” Jake was saying to Max while the Manning technician replaced the engine cover. Jake’s gaze kept drifting to where Gillian was surrounded by half a dozen Manning employees, all men, all clearly vying for her attention.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition,” Max observed.

“True enough.” Jake seemed to hesitate. “Then again, there’s competition everywhere,” he stated, an odd note to his voice.

Max checked out his expression. “You mean for Gillian?”

“Gillian, Cara, any woman really.”

Max’s gaze flicked across the room. “I think that guy is more interested in President Morrow than in Cara.” Not to mention that the vice president of Manning was at least sixty years old.

“Not him,” said Jake.

“Then who?” Max drew back. “Not you.”

“No, not me. But, you know, plenty of other guys probably find her attractive.”

“Maybe,” Max allowed.

He didn’t really dwell on it, but he knew there had to be plenty of men interested in Cara. Maybe he didn’t like to dwell on it because he didn’t like the jolt of jealousy that invaded his gut when he did.

“You guys ever talk about stuff like that?” Jake asked, bending to check out the underside of the plane’s tail.

“Talk about what?”

“Other guys.” Jake ran his fingertips along the rounded edges.

“Why would we talk about other guys?” Apprehension prickled along Max’s neck. “Where are you going with this?”

Jake straightened, expression tight. “Has Cara ever mentioned anyone else?”

“That she’s dated?”

Had someone come out of the woodwork? From her past? Were they causing a problem? If that was the case, why didn’t Jake just come straight-out and say it?

“What’s going on?” Max demanded.

Jake glanced across the cavernous complex, then he seemed to check to be sure the technician was out of earshot. “Something Gillian said last night. It led me to believe you and Cara maybe weren’t exclusive.”

Everything inside Max went perfectly still and cold. “
What
did Gillian say?”

“I know the two of you are basically broken up, but what I don’t understand is—”

“What did Gillian say?”
Max had to stop himself from grabbing Jake by the collar.

“That you and Cara weren’t exclusive.”

“In those words.”

Jake nodded. “In those words. I thought it was odd. I mean, you said you two have always kept it casual. But I thought that was because of your jobs. Cara never struck me as the kind of woman to have more than one lover.” Jake glanced furtively away from Max’s expression. “Not that it’s any of my business. But I thought you should know.”

Anger roiling, Max pivoted to glare across the hangar. He knew Cara was over there, but he couldn’t focus on her through the red haze forming in front of his eyes.

His hands clenched into fists by his side. “Did Gillian mention a name?”

“Uh, Max.”

“Did she mention a name?”
Max felt perfectly capable of committing murder.

“No name.” Jake touched his arm. “I think maybe you and I should—”