False Pretenses (23 page)

The Perriers arrived. Elizabeth raised her glass, only to be forestalled by Jonathan.

“A toast, Elizabeth.”

“What sort of toast?”

He frowned, biting back the words. Finally he said, his voice light, mocking, “To the future.”

“Innocuous enough.” She touched her glass to his, then sipped from it, half-wishing that she'd ordered a margarita. At least the tequila would hit her now, and make the world fade just a bit, blur it around the edges.

“Is it possible that you've missed me? That when you've made love with other men, you've thought of me?”

“Please, Mr. Harley,” she said.

“What the hell is the matter?”

He sounded angry, and she cocked her head to one side, staring at him. His eyes were narrowed, his lips a thin line.

“All right. One of the major things is the sacrifice of a young woman. And it can't be stopped. There's nothing I can do, and it stinks.”

“Tell me.”

“No. Even if I trusted you, you could do nothing. Indeed, how could you even care?”

“Don't you trust anybody?”

“No. People do learn, even me.”

The waiter came again and they ordered dinner.

“It would seem to me,” Jonathan said after the waiter had left, “that you've the power to accomplish most things.”

“Yes, most things. That's true, I suppose.”

“You know, Elizabeth,” he said after a moment, “perhaps in the future you could trust me.”

“Come now, Mr. Harley, hatred doesn't change
overnight, you know.” But Catherine had changed, at least she appeared to have changed. Elizabeth wondered now if everything Catherine had said and done had been an act. No, at least her upset over Brad and Jennifer wasn't an act.

“It has, but not overnight, that's true.”

“Please, I'm very tired, and I'm really not up to sparring with you. Just tell me what you want.”

“All right,” he said, suppressing a sigh. “I will.” But he couldn't, not just yet. Talk about hatred. She would want to kill him.

Dinner arrived. They were silent for some minutes.

“The weather's nice,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I think the Knicks are going to do great again. Don't you?”

Elizabeth carefully laid down her fork. “I'm walking out of here in ten minutes, Mr. Harley.”

“Well, you won't walk out empty-handed, Elizabeth.”

“What will you give me? An epidemic? A virus?”

“I still have a while before my loan is due.”

She just looked at him, waiting.

He laid down his fork and sat forward. “I'll meet you and your staff and lawyers, I suppose, tomorrow morning in your office at ten o'clock.”

“Why?”

“I have a check for you, of course.” He forked down a big bite, grinning at her. Her expression didn't change. She just became very still.

“Little girls shouldn't play in the big league,” he said, wanting now to hear her yell, curse him. “You couldn't win, Elizabeth, even with all of ACI's resources behind you.”

She still said nothing.

“You could do just as you pleased with your poor husband, but not with me, Elizabeth. Incidentally, I'll
have my lawyer with me tomorrow. You won't keep me waiting, will you?”

Damn her, why wouldn't she say something? Spit at him, try for a groin kick?

“You know,” he continued after a dead-silent moment, “you're not bad, for a woman. Maybe with, say, ten more years' practice, you could be nearly as good as I was ten years ago. But it's your hormones, Lizzie, they make you emotional. You can't think as clearly as a man. As I said, you couldn't beat me.”

Still she remained silent. Didn't she want to know how he had gotten the money? Couldn't she at least flay him verbally for his baiting remarks?

Finally she said very quietly, “I suppose you're right, Mr. Harley.”

She very carefully drank the rest of her Perrier. She very carefully set the empty glass back on the table. She picked up her purse from the floor beside her and rose. She looked at him, then turned away and walked out of the restaurant.

Jonathan Harley cursed.

 

J
onathan walked into Elizabeth's office the following morning, precisely at ten o'clock, flanked by his lawyer, Josh Simpson. They'd gone to Yale together and Josh had been his opponent in the chess tournament senior year. He wished he could mention that to Elizabeth when he introduced them, but of course he couldn't.

Elizabeth was seated at the circular conference table with Adrian Marsh, Coy Siverston, and Rod Samuels.

“Good morning, Elizabeth, gentlemen,” Jonathan said, his eyes never leaving her face. She was pale, he could see the strain in her eyes, but she was completely composed.

“Mr. Harley,” Elizabeth said, nodding toward two empty chairs.

Jonathan introduced Josh.

“Now,” he said, “I don't see any need for amenities this morning. I suppose Elizabeth told you why I'm here.”

Adrian shook his head. “No, Mr. Harley, she didn't. Is it about an extension to your loan?”

Jonathan looked at Elizabeth, but she said nothing. “No,” he said sharply, “I'm here to pay the loan off. Mr. Marsh, if you would please have your people compute what you think the balance is, we'll do a quick comparison and Josh here will go to our bank and get you a cashier's check.”

There was no sound for many moments. Jonathan felt pleasure at their stunned expressions.

Coy said finally, “Do you mind me asking how you managed it, Mr. Harley?”

“You guys didn't think of Europe. And the guy you had tailing me never got close enough to notice that the man I'd hired to go through my routine for several days wasn't me. Even though I'm a small fish in the ocean compared to ACI, I do have contacts in Europe and some power. Easy, really.” He didn't add that he'd gotten quite a bit of help from his ex-father-in-law, Andrew Pillson. “Besides,” he added, “I hadn't been to Europe in several years. I wanted to rest a bit, along with the business.”

Elizabeth said, “I have already had the loan balance computed, Mr. Harley. You may now check it with your computations.”

She pulled out several sheets of paper from her briefcase and handed them to Jonathan.

The balance was the same as his. Of course. What had he expected?

He nodded to Josh. The four of them sat in grim silence around the table after Josh had left. Jonathan said, “Will you gentlemen please take a hike for, say, ten minutes?”

Adrian's eyes flew to Elizabeth's face. She nodded.

Once alone, Jonathan said, “What's wrong with you?”

She merely shook her head.

“Dammit, woman, you're a fighter! You're letting me walk on you like a dumb rug. What the hell happened?”

Elizabeth gave him a small smile. “What would you have me do, Mr. Harley? You won, you've told me that very clearly.”

“Call me names.”

“All right. You've proved yourself brilliant. Obviously a leader in cunning and survival, a risk-taker. I hope you rot.”

He rose to his feet and began pacing her office. “I straightened out my union problems,” he said, frowning at her.

“Yes, I know.”

“But you wanted them straightened out, didn't you, for your own profit?”

“Certainly. Even we unstable, emotional women can do some things right, you know.”

He stood there staring at her. Her back was to him, her head slightly bowed. He saw the nape of her neck and wanted to touch her. It occurred to him that there was no reason for him ever to see her again. “ Elizabeth,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Damn you, stand up and face me.”

She did. “Yes, Mr. Harley?”

“Tell me you're not sleeping with Hunter for what he did for you.”

That drew her out of her numb shell. He'd won, for God's sake. Right between the eyes, he'd fired straight-on. And now he was angry at her, and she simply didn't understand him. She was his enemy, wasn't she? And now, now he was the victor. Was this another way of rubbing her nose in it? She tilted back her head.

“Why, of course I sleep with Dr. Hunter. After all, since he saved me from life imprisonment, isn't he entitled to some consideration? He's really quite good. Sometimes, though, it's difficult . . . so many of my lovers are quite talented, really. But Christian ranks right up there with the best, and—”

He grabbed her and kissed her, hard.

“You're a pathetic liar,” he said, lifting his face, shaking her shoulders.

She tried to shrug, but it was impossible, he was holding her too tightly. She merely shook her head, trying to look bored.

He kissed her again. She did not respond, merely suffered him until he stepped away from her.

“A victory celebration of a manly sort, Mr. Harley?” she asked calmly, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “To show the little woman what she's worth? Polish off your little triumph with a show of male dominance and force my submission? With that performance I doubt you'd even make it to the ranking scale with my other lovers.”

To her utter astonishment, he raked his fingers through his hair and said, “I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I—”

There was a knock on the office door.

Just as well, Elizabeth thought, vaguely disconcerted. “Come in,” she called out.

It was Adrian and Coy.

“Gentlemen,” she said, forcing a ghastly smile. “If you two will please finish things up here with Mr. Harley, talk about baseball and all that sort of thing. I have an urgent meeting.”

She turned back to Jonathan and saw a smudge of her lipstick on his mouth. She wondered if Adrian and Coy would notice it.

“Mr. Harley,” she said, turned on her heel, and left the office.

There was no baseball talk.

Adrian saw the lipstick and wondered what the hell was going on. Coy was thinking only of that damned cashier's check and Harley's charade.

 

Elizabeth sat alone at home. It was midafternoon and she could hear Kogi moving about in the kitchen.
Oh, yes, she remembered that Christian was coming to dinner. Her lover. One of her many lovers. She wished she could laugh.

What to do about Jennifer Henkle? Odd how losing to Jonathan Harley wasn't foremost in her mind, at least for the moment. She wondered now how she'd managed to get Jennifer Henkle out of her mind before. Probably because she'd realized quite early that there was nothing to be done.

Then Catherine had come, stirred everything up again. Made her see, made her feel guilty, as if she'd been partially responsible, which, she supposed, she had.

How, Elizabeth wondered, could Laurette Carleton force such a marriage? Obviously to save Brad from being uncovered as a gay, probably to keep him from getting diseased, to save the family from more scandal. There'd been a change in Brad over the past months, she realized now. He'd withdrawn, become more of a cipher. No, she wouldn't feel sorry for him.

She'd just have to give it up again, dismiss it from her mind. If Senator Henkle didn't care enough about his daughter to . . . To what? Create a horrendous scandal that would ruin all their lives? No, the senator had had no choice.

Think.

Leverage. That was the operative word. It sure hadn't worked on Jonathan Harley, but . . . Surely there was something she could do. Her mind went blank. In disgust, Elizabeth rose from her chair and walked automatically toward her piano. She stopped cold and stared at it.

I won't. I can't. Who cares about Jennifer Henkle? She's nothing to me. Nothing, nobody. But she'd know her if she saw her in the street, from the photographs.

She said to the piano, “You beat me, Jonathan Harley. You made me feel a total fool. Europe, you said.
Switzerland, probably. And none of us considered that. Smart, slippery bastard.”

There was a buzz from Gallagher downstairs.

Kogi emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. Flour, everywhere. Even on his watch. For an instant Elizabeth stared at Kogi's watch as he carefully wiped it with his sleeve, a frown on her brow. Timothy's watch. Something . . . something wasn't right.

“It's Mr. Harley,” Kogi said, coming over to her. “He's downstairs and wants to see you.”

More gloating? No, he hadn't gloated, not the way she would have thought. He'd kissed her, angrily.

“Please ask him what he wants, Kogi.”

She heard Kogi's voice but couldn't make out his words.

“He say he has a surprise for you,” Kogi said.

“A time bomb?” she said aloud, then shook her head. “Oh, very well, let him come up.”

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said “ Musicians Play at Love.” She was barefoot, her hair tied back in a ratty ponytail. Who cared?

She heard Kogi greet him at the front door, heard his footsteps coming toward the living room.

She rose finally, to face him. He'd changed out of his business suit and was also wearing jeans, a sport shirt, and a corduroy jacket.

“Mr. Harley, what do you want?”

“Didn't your man tell you I had a surprise for you?”

“Yes.”

Jonathan thought she looked wonderful. No makeup, no severe chignon, no sexless business suit. She looked fresh, very young, and wary. As if she were afraid. Of him?

“May I sit down?”

“I suppose you must.”

“Such graciousness.”

“From the loser, what would you expect? Champagne? Caviar?”

“Coffee would be just fine.”

She nodded toward Kogi.

“I'm sorry I attacked you this morning.”

She merely looked at him. Like I'm some sort of insect, he thought. “Well, not really sorry. Just out of place. I'm just sorry that I did it there, in your office. You made me mad.”

“You're a man,” she said, shrugging.

His eyes fell to her breasts at her movement. She wasn't wearing a bra.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Harley, I'm not some sort of sexpot for your review. Just get on with it or get out.”

He nodded and drew a sheaf of folded papers from his breast pocket. “Come here,” he said, not looking up at her as he spread the sheets of paper on the coffee table in front of him.

Intrigued, Elizabeth sat down beside him, keeping some distance between them. “What's all this?”

“Computer companies. I found three that are in excellent shape. Great growth potential, given ACI's management system and influx of capital. More important, they want to sell, if the offer's right. I know two others that could be acquired, but they would be unfriendly.”

Elizabeth was too stunned to say anything. She picked up the neatly typed pages and looked at them. She knew of all three companies, indeed, she and her management team had discussed the pros and cons of each. But she didn't tell him that, not now. She was much too interested in his motives, whatever they were.

“Why?”

He looked at her then, his eyes serious. “I don't know,” he said after a moment. Then he shrugged. “I got it all together last night.” He didn't tell her that
he'd had his own plans to buy before she'd blasted into his life, and had had most of the figures at his disposal long before last night.

“Well, that's honesty of a sort, I suppose,” she said, her head cocked at him.

Kogi brought in the coffee at that moment and deftly served it.

“Is this the Yale way, Mr. Harley? Give the loser a bone to save face?”

“No. I usually have a ball when I win. This, well, this is different.”

“Why?”

“You.”

The small word sounded utterly sincere, and for an instant Elizabeth felt something warm and glowing deep inside her. But only for an instant. Then she felt wary and very cold.

“I'm a very wealthy woman, Mr. Har—”

“Jonathan, please.”

“Yes, well, I am.”

“What does that have to do with the price of conch shells? I'm not exactly on skid row myself.”

“Mr. . . . Jonathan, I appreciate this gesture. It's quite a surprise, truly, but—”

He cut her off, his hand slashing through the air. “Now that we have all this damned garbage out of the way, I want to see you. No more business, no more jockeying to see who can best the other, just a man and a woman.”

Elizabeth reached for her coffee cup, not to drink, but to warm her suddenly cold hands. “What if I had won, Jonathan? Would you still have wanted to see me?”

“Good question,” he said, his voice rueful. “I guess not. I probably would have put a contract on you.”

“What makes you think I won't do that to you?”

He laughed. “You want to know something? I
think maybe you've done some pretty rotten things since you took over ACI. To survive, you would have had to. It's made you wary and I understand that, but hear me, Elizabeth, I have no reason to want to hurt you, not now in any case. I want—” He broke off, staring at her, afraid of what he would say.

Elizabeth didn't want to hear what he had to say either. She jumped to her feet and turned her back to him, hugging her arms around herself. She said, “My life is a mess right now. There are so many things, so many problems—”