The Chilling Deception (7 page)

“But Zac, I don’t want to leave.”

“Move, woman. I should never have let you stay. Get dressed and get out of here.” He gave her a small push and then pulled her back for a quick hard kiss before shoving her to the edge of the bed.

Resentfully, Guinevere did as she was told. A part of her recognized that it would be best if she exited from her own room in the morning. People talked, and while the times had indeed become more liberal, people still loved to talk most about the affairs of others. Small-business persons did not need too much of that kind of gossip.

Fumbling, she got back into her pants and shirt. Zac opened the door for her and she darted a quick glance down the hall. It was empty.

“Go,” he hissed softly, but his eyes were gleaming with remembered passion.

She went, making it back to her own room without incident and falling into bed, convinced she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She slept like a log. It wasn’t until she was putting on her pantyhose the next morning that she realized someone had searched her room while she had been with Zac.

Chapter Five

He didn’t feel like a frog the next morning, Zac reflected in lazy contentment. But then, he never did after a night that included Guinevere Jones in his bed. He yawned hugely, pushing back the blankets, and went into the bathroom. Guinevere had called him a frog the first time they had met. Of course, he reminded himself tolerantly, she’d had reason to view him in a somewhat negative light. He’d been blackmailing her at the time.

Zac leaned into the shower and turned on the water full blast. While he waited for the water to get hot he stretched, aware of the pleasant aftereffects of Guinevere’s sweet passion. He always felt good the next morning. Strong, healthy, brilliant—and sexy as hell.

She had a way of making him feel this good. Zac didn’t fully understand it and saw absolutely no need to try. It was a fact. A smart man made a grab for the good things in life and didn’t waste time questioning them or tearing them apart to examine them analytically.

Guinevere, on the other hand, seemed to want to talk lately. Zac stepped into the shower, wondering if yesterday’s conversation in the car on the way back from the marina had been sufficient for her. He’d gotten what he needed out of the chat. He grinned a little to himself as he applied soap to his chest. She wasn’t seeing anyone else. She hadn’t seen anyone else since she’d met him. Zac realized his idiotic grin was widening. He shoved his head under the spray.

She was late coming down to breakfast that morning. Zac joined a subdued Vandyke for coffee and a platter of bacon and eggs. Guinevere still hadn’t appeared by the time Washburn took Vandyke and the other two business executives into a conference room for what was to be the last round of presentations. Vandyke hesitated before following the others, glancing worriedly down at Zac, who was still drinking coffee.

“You’re going to stick around in case I, uh, need you later, right, Justis?”

“I’ll be here. Good luck with the presentation.”

Vandyke nodded brusquely and turned to go. Zac watched him leave, feeling helpless to reassure the man. He understood now why Guinevere was worried about her client. Vandyke was a man walking the razor’s edge.

The conference room door closed behind the high-level executives just as Guinevere entered the coffee shop. Zac watched her scan the small crowd, which consisted of Toby Springer and the handful of other people who had accompanied their bosses to the resort. He waited with a sense of pleasant anticipation for the moment she spotted him sitting by the window.

She managed to look both chic and casual against the gloom of another rainy morning. The sweater she was wearing was a rich bronze color trimmed in black, and the pleated black pants had a wide band that emphasized her small waist and the full flare of her hips. Zac remembered the feel of her in the night and exhaled slowly.

She had wanted him badly enough last night to risk her image. That realization threatened to go to his head like hot brandy. The idea of Guinevere Jones sneaking down a hotel hallway just to be with him was enough to get him aroused all over again. He drew in another breath and again let it out with slow control. Sophisticated business security consultants did not allow their bodies to embarrass them in public restaurants. At that moment Guinevere turned and caught him watching her. She started toward him purposefully.

“I need to talk to you,” she announced in a low tone as she sat down across from him. Her hazel eyes were narrowed and steady. The mouth that had been so soft and warm during the night was firm with resolve.

Zac groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

Her brows came together in that funny way they did when she was about to deliver a lecture. “Zac, this is serious.”

“I can tell.”

Guinevere’s frown deepened as she realized he wasn’t ready to show the proper concern. What was the matter with him this morning? She leaned forward intently. “Zac, somebody searched my room last night.”

He stared at her.

“Well, at least I’ve got your attention.” She sat back, satisfied.

“Searched your room?” He looked dumbfounded.

She nodded with grave certainty. “Must have happened while I was . . .” She glanced away. “With you,” she finished, looking at him again.

“You were only with me about half an hour.” He ignored her flicker of embarrassment. “Gwen, are you sure? Why didn’t you come and get me? How do you know you were searched? Were things messed up?”

“Oh, no. It was a very professional job.”

“No offense, but how would you know if your room had been professionally tossed?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Tossed?”

“Forget it.” He glanced up as the waitress approached and waited impatiently while the woman poured coffee and Guinevere ordered cereal and fruit. Then he folded his arms in front of him on the table. “Tell me what happened,” he said deliberately.

Guinevere sighed inwardly. She had known it would be like this, of course. Zac would want a blow-by-blow account, complete in every detail. He was a careful thorough man who tended to take his time about this sort of thing. He himself admitted that he worked slow. When he’d worked for the international group of private security consultants, she knew, his co-workers had nicknamed him “the Glacier”—slow-moving, but in the end everything got covered.

“I just realized what had happened this morning when I put on my pantyhose.”

He blinked slowly. “Pantyhose?”

“I’m wearing a pair under these pants. They provide some extra warmth,” she told him impatiently.

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. The first pair I put on had a run in them. On the left leg, above the knee.”

“Tacky.”

“Zac, you’re not paying attention.”

“I’m paying attention, I’m just not following the gist of this conversation. Tell me, in one-syllable words, the significance of your pantyhose having a run in them.”

She made a small exclamation of disgust. “Zac, last night when I was getting ready for bed I snagged a pair of pantyhose.”

“Okay, I can follow that. Go on.”

“Don’t be condescending. This is crucial evidence.”

“I’m listening,” he told her gravely.

“I didn’t want them to get mixed up with my clean
un
snagged pantyhose and I didn’t feel like taking the time to wash them out. So I put them in my suitcase on the left-hand side. The clean unsnagged ones are on the right. Got it so far?”

“Clear as crystal.”

“Good. Well, this morning I reached for a pair from the clean side of the suitcase.”

“The right side?”

“Precisely.” She looked at him with faint approval. “And I got the pair I had put in on the left side last night. Whoever went through my suitcase didn’t realize I’d know the difference, I suppose. Or else he was in a hurry.” She waited with a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

Zac continued to gaze at her with level speculation. He was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You’re basing all this on one snagged pair of pantyhose? Nothing else appeared to have been touched?”

“No, it was a very careful job.”

“Gwen,” he said patiently, “why would anyone search your room? I’m the one who has the briefcase at night. Vandyke’s the one who might have important papers to hide. You’re, pardon the expression, just a secretary, as far as anyone around here is concerned.”

“I don’t know why someone would do it, Zac. You’re the authority on business security, you tell me. Secretaries often have important notes and papers lying around. Maybe somebody was looking for something I might have left out after doing that typing for Vandyke yesterday afternoon.”

“Gwen, if they went into your room during the short period you were with me, that means someone was keeping a close eye on your activities.”

She shuddered. “Spooky, isn’t it?”

“Also unlikely. Honey, I don’t mean to let the air out of your balloon, but there’s no logical reason why someone would search your room instead of mine or Vandyke’s.”

“How do you know they haven’t searched yours?” she demanded.

He shrugged, picking up his coffee cup. “I’d know.”

She saw the certainty in his face and concluded he probably would. “What about Vandyke? He’s acting so strange lately I’m not sure he’d notice if anyone had been through his things.”

“Or tell us if he did notice,” Zac finished. “You’re right there, but somehow I don’t think it’s happened.”

“Then why me?”

“I’m not sure you were searched. One little pair of snagged pantyhose found on the wrong side of the suitcase is kind of slim evidence, Gwen. It would have been easy for you to forget which side you tossed them into. After all, when you were undressing last night you must have had your mind on . . .” He paused deliberately, and a slow satisfied smile lit his eyes. “Other things.”

“Egotist.”

He paid no attention. “Did you see anyone in the hall on the way back to your room last night?”

“No,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t mean anything. Someone could have come and gone before I left your room. Or he could have entered my room through the balcony.”

“Eat your breakfast and we’ll go have a look.”

“You’re just trying to placate me, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just trying to make sure one way or the other.”

But they could find nothing else to verify Guinevere’s suspicions. Zac went through the room carefully without finding anything to support the idea that someone had searched it. He shook his head and put his arm around Guinevere’s shoulders. “Honey, I think it was your imagination at work. There’s just no logic to it.”

By now Guinevere was beginning to doubt her own discovery of the pantyhose. She sorted through the remaining pairs. “I don’t know, Zac. I could have sworn the pair I put on first this morning was the pair I had deliberately put into the left side of the suitcase. Now you’ve got me wondering.”

He ran a fingertip down her nose. “I told you, last night you had other things on your mind.” His eyes gleamed for a moment with the memories, and she tried to glare at him.

“I knew I was never going to hear the end of it.” She moved away from him. “What’s the schedule for today?”

“I promised Vandyke I’d stick around the lobby in case he needs me. I just wish to hell I knew what he thought he might need me for. He’s got the briefcase in the conference room. This is the last round of presentations, and Washburn’s promised a decision by this afternoon. We’ll all get to go home early this evening. Frankly, I can’t wait.”

“Did Vandyke look nervous?” she asked.

“No more so than usual.”

“How long did the conversation with his wife last?”

“Not long. About ten minutes after you left.”

Guinevere eyed Zac thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you could actually hear what he said to her?”

He smiled. “What a little snoop. No, I couldn’t catch most of the words. Just her name occasionally. The connecting door isn’t that thin—thank God. It means he might not have heard you. At least, he didn’t make any reference to you being in my room last night.”

Guinevere considered that. “I’m not sure he would. He’s really quite a gentleman.”

Zac paced to the window, running a hand through his hair. “Well, one way or another this whole thing should be over this afternoon. We’ll catch the ferry back to Seattle and that will be the end of my commitment to Vandyke. What about you? How long are you supposed to cover for his secretary?”

“She’ll probably be back on the job tomorrow.”

“Good. I can’t say this little jaunt hasn’t been interesting in some ways, but I’ll be glad when it’s over. What are you going to do today?”

“I have some typing to take care of for Vandyke this morning. Then I guess I’ll pack and get ready to leave.”

Zac glanced back at her as he stood in front of the window. His eyes were the same color as the overcast sky. “Do you think we might try this again sometime?”

“A wild weekend fling?”

“Yeah.”

Under his deliberate gaze she felt the warmth rising in her cheeks. “That might be nice.”

“Next time we won’t try to combine business with pleasure. It’s too damn frustrating.”

Guinevere hesitated. There were other things that were frustrating. “We still haven’t had a chance to really discuss things between us, Zac.”

He went to her, gripped her shoulders fiercely, and planted a hard kiss on her mouth. “Personally, I thought we’d made terrific strides.”

“Do you really think so?”

The phone rang just as Guinevere was waiting in an agony of hope for her answer. With a disgusted sigh she went to answer it. She listened to Vandyke’s hurried instructions and hung up with a regretful sigh.

“That was Vandyke. He wants me to hurry up with that typing. Guess I’d better get busy doing what I’m being paid to do. I’ll see you at lunch, Zac.”

“And I’ll go do my duty in the lobby,” he groaned as he stalked to the door.

Guinevere watched the closed door for a long moment before she went to the typewriter that had been set up in her room. So much for all her plans to define the relationship.

Washburn’s announcement shortly before lunch caught both Zac and Guinevere completely by surprise. From their client’s general attitude of depression and uncertainty, they would never have guessed Vandyke Development had been selected to do the Washburn project.

“Congratulations,” Guinevere said sincerely over lunch. “It’s a wonderful deal. You must be quite pleased.”

Vandyke nodded, but he didn’t look particularly thrilled. “It’s definitely a load off my mind.”

If that’s the case, Guinevere thought, he certainly doesn’t
look
very relieved.

“I’m glad it worked out,” Zac said politely, watching the older man carefully. “The announcement came sooner than expected. When do you want to leave for Seattle?”

Vandyke looked at him questioningly, seeming suddenly to realize something. “Oh, I forgot. Washburn wants us to stay over one more day to finalize things. The others are going back this afternoon, but I guess I simply assumed you and Miss Jones would be available for one more day.” He glanced worriedly at Guinevere. “Can you manage? I’m going to need you to handle the final letter of agreement. Washburn and I will rough it out this afternoon.”