“Oh, yeah. Right. A united front.”
“I hope I’ve got your attention here, Olivia. Rumors of trouble between the two of us could do a lot of damage to Glow. You’re a businesswoman. You know what the wrong kind of talk can do to a company.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We don’t want suppliers, vendors, and customers getting nervous. Especially not at this stage.”
“Uh-huh.” There was another faint slurp.
Exasperated with her apparent lack of interest in the subject, Jasper tightened his grip on the phone. “Think of this as a marriage of convenience.”
“I tried marriage once.” She sounded thoughtful. “It wasn’t very convenient.”
“I had a similar experience with the institution. But this time it will be different.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. This is business.” He watched the traffic on First Avenue. He wondered if it was possible to read the future in the movements of cars the way some people read it in tea leaves. “When it comes to business, I’m always sure.”
It was just the personal stuff in life that gave him problems, he thought.
He heard another sip on the other end of the line.
“Nice to be sure about things, isn’t it?” Olivia asked eventually.
Something had happened, Jasper realized suddenly. Something serious. This was not the modern-day Juliet who had waved farewell to him from her balcony last night. Olivia was tense. Cautious. Distant.
Was she feeling guilty because she had arranged for his house to be searched while he was at her place?
He decided to try a subtle probe.
“Olivia?”
“What?”
“God knows I’m no nutritionist, but do you think maybe you’re drinking a little too much coffee?”
There was a short, startled pause on the other end. “This is only my second cup today. No, wait, I guess it’s my third. Or maybe my fourth. Eleanor Lancaster invited me to breakfast. I had some there.”
Jasper frowned. “You had breakfast with Lancaster?”
“I’m moving in some pretty exalted circles these days, thanks to my brother. Why did you ask about my coffee consumption?”
“I just wondered. You sound a little uptight.”
She went off like Mount St. Helens, without any warning.
“Uptight? Now, why would I be uptight? Just because I’ve got a major event scheduled for an important client tomorrow night, my aunt is being blackmailed, I’ve got footprints on my floor—”
“You’re worried about footprints? No offense, but I don’t see you as the compulsively neat type, Olivia.”
“And on top of everything else,” she said, overriding the interruption, “I’m about to get a call from a reporter who wants to grill me about my relationship with the new CEO of Glow. No, sir. Nothing going on around here that might make a person a little tense. Nothing at all.”
Jasper heard another slurp. A large one this time.
From out of nowhere he was overtaken with a wholly irrational urge to soothe her. “About your aunt’s blackmailer…”
“What about him?” she demanded.
“Try not to worry too much. Once we get Zara’s list, it won’t take a professional investigator long to figure out who’s behind the extortion.”
“I hope you’re right. Zara certainly believes in you. She feels much better this morning now that you’ve taken charge of the situation.”
Olivia sounded disgruntled now. Jasper wondered if his assuming the lead on the problem annoyed her. She was accustomed to making the decisions.
“Like I said, blackmail, especially this kind, is almost always a personal thing.”
“You may be right,” she said. “I would certainly like to personally throttle the jerk who’s terrorizing my aunt. Look, I’ve got to go, Jasper. I’ve got a lot to do this morning.”
“So do I.” But he did not hang up the phone.
Neither did she.
Jasper heard her take another swallow of coffee. He sensed that she was steeling herself.
“Jasper?” Her voice was tight.
“Yes?”
“Where did you go last night after you left my place?”
Of all the questions he had been expecting, that was last on the list.
“Home to Bainbridge.” He propped one shoulder against the windowsill. “Why?”
“No reason.”
Like hell, he thought. So much for the subtle approach. He had nothing to lose by being a little more direct, himself. “Funny, I was wondering about something, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Did you send someone to search my house last night while we had dinner together?”
There was an unnatural stillness on the other end of the line. Not even a coffee slurp disturbed the crashing silence.
Jasper continued to lean against the edge of the window, but every muscle in his body went taut as he waited for her answer. Not that it would tell him much, he thought. Not if she chose to lie.
“I think,” Olivia said very carefully, “that you and I had better talk.”
“We are talking.”
“Privately. I’ll meet you at that Market espresso bar where you found me yesterday. Ten minutes.”
“Olivia, what the hell is going on here? I don’t have time for any more cloak-and-dagger stuff.”
There was no response. Olivia had already hung up the phone.
“Searched your study?” Olivia wrapped her hands around the small cup of supercharged espresso she had just bought. She leaned urgently across the little table. “And your computer files? You’re sure?”
Jasper gave her a warning glance as he methodically unwrapped the piece of biscotti he had purchased to go with his coffee. “This is a public place. You might want to keep your voice down.”
Olivia did a quick, impatient survey of the handful of occupied tables nearby and lowered her tone. “You really believe someone went into your home and through your personal records last night?”
“I figure I’ve got two choices. Either someone searched my study or I’ve gone full-blown paranoid.”
That gave her pause. “Is paranoia a meaningful option here?”
He ignored the question. “You’re sure about the footprint?”
“Yes.” She took a swift sip of the potent espresso and waited hopefully for the jolt. “That is, I’m sure there was a man’s footprint on the rug under my computer desk this morning. But in all honesty, I’m not sure what it was doing there. I couldn’t tell if someone had actually used my computer.”
“What about your hard copy files? The stuff in the drawers? Any evidence that someone went through them?”
“Who knows? How could you tell if someone had rummaged through a filing cabinet?”
“Those of us who take filing and organization seriously are probably better equipped to detect the work of an intruder than those who don’t,” Jasper said very dryly.
“I can do without the lecture on office management.” “I’ll save it for another time.” He dunked the piece of biscotti into his coffee and took a large bite. “So you found a footprint on your floor this morning and leaped to the conclusion that I had been fooling around in your computer files? I’m hurt. Deeply hurt.”
Olivia did not understand the sudden change in his mood. Earlier on the phone he had sounded distant, cool, almost grim. But now he seemed downright cheerful, which did not make a lot of sense given the topic of conversation.
It was almost as if he had gotten some good news since she had talked to him on the phone a few minutes earlier.
“Don’t pull the offended act with me, Sloan. You went home to Bainbridge and did some conspiracy theory work, yourself. You actually believed that I hired someone to search your study? Thanks a lot.”
To her astonishment, Jasper grinned fleetingly. “Great working relationship we’ve got here, Chantry. Lot of trust.”
His unwarranted amusement acted
like a goad on her caffeine-strained nerves. “For the record, Sloan, if I had wanted to have your study searched, I might, just possibly, have agreed to have dinner with you while someone else did the dirty work.”
“Yeah?”
“But I would never, not in a million years, have gone so far as to kiss you.”
He gazed at her very thoughtfully for a long moment. Then he inclined his head once in grave acknowledgment. “I’ll remember that.”
She suddenly felt much too warm. She knew she was blushing, and the fact infuriated her. She rushed to get the subject back on track.
“It must have been the blackmailer who searched our offices,” she said briskly.
“I’d say that’s a safe bet.” He munched biscotti with apparent unconcern. “Probably looking for something to use to carry out his threats against us.”
Olivia heard a soft tapping sound. She glanced down and saw that her fingers were doing a nervous little dance on the rim of her espresso cup. With a monumental act of will she forced herself to cease the nervous staccato.
“One thing’s certain,” she said. “Whoever he is, he wouldn’t have found anything in my office that would make me pay blackmail.”
“There was nothing for him to find in mine, either. But in the process he may have told us a little more about himself.”
She shot him a swift glance. “Such as?”
“First, if you’re right about the footprint, the gender question is resolved. It probably is a man we’re after, not a woman.”
“Right.” Olivia thought about it. “We also know that he’s someone who feels very comfortable around computers.”
“And,” Jasper added quietly, “we know that he must have followed me to your condo last night and figured I’d be there for a while.”
A chill zapped the length of Olivia’s spine. “Gives me the creeps to think that someone is following us around.”
“Yes.” Jasper finished his coffee. “And when we catch the sonofabitch, I’m going to make certain that he pays for that.”
The sudden shift to the dangerously neutral tone in Jasper’s voice sent an entirely different kind of frisson across Olivia’s nerve endings.
She watched with fascination as he finished his coffee and picked up the used napkins, the stirring sticks, and the biscotti wrapper. He folded everything into a tidy bundle and tucked the little package into one of the empty cups. He then stacked the two cups neatly, one inside the other.
When he was finished with the small construction project, he got to his feet and dropped the lot very neatly into a nearby trash can.
He turned his head and saw Olivia watching him. One dark brow rose. “What is it?”
“Have you always had this unnatural tendency toward order and neatness?”
“You’ll get used to it.”
14
“Yes, Nina, I got your messages.” Olivia did not look at the wastebasket, where she had tossed the last message shortly after discovering it on the floor. She smiled politely at her cousin. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you a call. As you can see, we’re going a hundred miles an hour around here today. It’s been like this for weeks.”
“I understand.”
Olivia sighed inwardly. She shouldn’t have been surprised to find Nina waiting in her office when she returned from the Market a few minutes ago. She had been ducking Nina’s calls for a week. It had been only a matter of time before her cousin confronted her in person.
“What with all the changes going on at Glow,” Olivia continued weakly, “I just haven’t had a chance to give you a ring.”
“I know that Uncle Rollie’s death has put a lot of pressure on you.” Nina’s smile was laced with a knowing look.
Olivia opened her mouth to elaborate on her excuse, but she closed it again very quickly. Damn it, she hated excuses, her own more than anyone else’s.
“All right. What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked quietly.
Nina clasped her hands together very tightly in her lap. She had fragile, delicate hands. Everything about Nina appeared fragile and delicate, Olivia thought. The polar opposite of herself.
Nina was five years younger than Olivia, petite and pretty. With her dark hair, big eyes, and ethereal air, she made Olivia think of a Regency-era portrait.
Nina was the sort of woman who brought out the protective instincts, not only in men but in everyone around her.
She regarded Olivia with pleading eyes. “I want you to come to the opening night reception at the Kesgrove Museum.”
All the muscles in Olivia’s shoulders tightened painfully. Absently she reached up to massage the back of her neck.
She had been afraid of this. The reception to launch the retrospective exhibition of Logan’s art was scheduled to be held at the end of the month. Everyone in the Dane family, including Sean, would be there. The last time she had seen any of them, Olivia reflected, was at the funeral.
She had no desire to subject herself to another round of the silent reproach and accusations that had filled their eyes on that occasion.
“I really don’t think that would be such a good idea, Nina.”
“Please. It would mean so much to Sean and his family.”
“I doubt it.”
“I know you think they still blame you for what happened to Logan in Pamplona,” Nina said. “They were consumed by their grief. That’s why they turned on you. But Sean has gotten past it, and I think his parents have, too.”
Olivia seriously doubted that. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean that it would be comfortable for all of us to be in the same room together.”
“I’m asking you to come as a favor to me, Olivia. I’m sure you know that Sean and I have been seeing a great deal of each other?”
“Yes.”
Nina took a shaky breath. “We’ve talked about marriage.”
“I see.”
Nina’s hands twisted together. Her eyes misted. “I love him so much, but I just don’t know if I can marry him after what happened. It doesn’t feel right.”
Olivia surged to her feet, grabbed a tissue, and shoved it into Nina’s hand. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again. Forget what happened three years ago. There’s no point dredging up the past. If you’re sure about your feelings for Sean …”
“Very sure.” The pain in Nina’s eyes disappeared for a moment. A warm glow took its place. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
Must be a nice feeling, Olivia reflected as she sat down. “Then go for it.”
Nina’s expression turned resolute. “I love him too much to hurt him, and if he finds out about Logan …”
Olivia looked at her very steadily. “Sean will never find out. Don’t let the past ruin your future. Don’t give Logan the final victory.”
Nina looked down at her hands. “I owe you so much. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t owe me a damn thing.” Olivia glanced at her watch. “Look, I really do have to get back to work.”
“I know.” Nina rose from the chair. “Olivia, about the reception. I realize I have no right to ask you to attend. But I promise you that Sean no longer blames you for what happened to Logan. He wants to mend the breach because he loves me.”
“Nina…”
“Think about it, please,” Nina begged. “For Sean’s sake, if not for mine.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll think about it.”
The wife of the president and CEO of Silver Galaxy Foods, Madeline Silverthorne, had made one thing very clear to Olivia. She wanted silver to figure predominately in the theme and decor for the firm’s annual Silver Galaxy Foods Night event.
Olivia believed in giving the client, or the client’s wife, in this case, what she wanted and a bit more. The interior of the dining room of the Private Island gleamed, glistened, and glowed with silver.
Deep in the bowels of the vessel the engines throbbed at half speed. The Private Island was on
a cruise to nowhere, meandering its way through the islands of Puget Sound.
Olivia knew that few of the guests on board intended to sleep tonight, although cabins had been assigned to everyone. The point of Silver Galaxy Night was to eat as much of the host’s free food and sample as many fine wines as possible and then party the night away until the free buffet breakfast was served.
It was a grueling contract for an event design and production company, but a lucrative one.
Olivia cast a critical eye across the dazzling scene that her staff had created.
The heavily laden buffet tables displaying Silver Galaxy’s gourmet food products were covered with silver-foiled cloths trimmed with tinsel fringe. Guests chose caviar and canapés from silver serving dishes. Silver candles stood tall in elegant silver candelabra.
The walls were covered in shimmering foiled paper. Mirrored spheres reminiscent of those that hung in swing-era ballrooms dangled from the ceiling. Their glittering surfaces reflected the silvery light.
Madeline Silverthorne, her opera diva figure resplendent in a silver lamé gown that accented her silvergray hair, joined Olivia. Her gaze rested approvingly on the massive silver vase filled with foil flowers in the center of the room.
“Fabulous,” she said. “And so elegant. Just right for our company image.”
There was nothing like a satisfied client, Olivia thought.
“The event firm I hired last year refused to pay any attention to my requests,” Madeline continued. “The person I dealt with actually had the nerve to tell me that so much silver foil and tinsel would be tacky. Can you imagine?”
Olivia suppressed the memory of the day her entire staff had lined up in front of her desk to tell her the same thing.
“It’s going to look like the inside of an aluminum foil factory,” Matty announced.
Bolivar frowned. “Kinda bright, don’t you think? The guests will need shades.”
“It will be a bit, er, bright, dear,” Zara said.
“I doubt that there’s enough aluminum foil in all of Seattle to pull this off,” Bernie said. “Probably have to import some from Bellevue.”
“I can’t imagine why the other firm had a problem with your silver concept,” Olivia murmured. “My staff very much enjoyed working on this project. They felt that it allowed them to release their creative energies.”