They sat on opposite ends of the piano bench and munched crackers in silence, passing the jar of cheese back and forth. Jayne blushed as she realized that Paul was staring at her. Damn that cool Scandinavian exterior! She never had been able to read his expressions. Did he want her as much as she wanted him? Or should she observe the proprieties and insist he sleep on the couch? It was all so confusing that she was ready to jump out of her skin, especially since she couldn’t seem to stop imagining how good it would be if they were in bed together.
“What is wrong, Jayne? Are you unhappy that I am here?”
“Of course not.” Paul was looking at her with concern and Jayne decided to confront him straight on. “I’m just trying to decide whether I should follow my instincts and drag you to bed.”
“That would be very wonderful.” Paul began to smile.
“Yes, but we haven’t settled anything yet. Remember that awful argument we had?”
“I remember. And I must offer to you my apology.”
Jayne sighed deeply. “You can’t apologize if you didn’t start it and you didn’t, I did. I flew off the handle and I knew I was wrong, but I was too damn ornery to admit it.”
“That is not true, Jayne. I am the one who left and I am also the one at fault.”
Jayne shook her head. “No, Paul. I pushed you too hard and I should have known better. You had to leave. I didn’t give you any other choice.”
“No, Jayne. You had worked all night and you were very tired. I failed to appreciate your exhaustion.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Jayne’s voice was rising. “You’re just making excuses for me. You always make excuses for me. I’m adult enough to admit that I was wrong!”
“You were not wrong! The blame belongs to me!”
Paul realized that he was glaring at Jayne and she looked just as upset. Unable to resist, he started to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
Jayne glared at him, arms crossed, and Paul laughed out loud. Clearly reconciliation had its pitfalls, too.
“Answer me, Paul! What’s so funny?”
Jayne’s eyes were flashing and Paul could tell she was growing furious, but he couldn’t seem to stop laughing. The whole argument was utterly absurd.
“If all you can do is stand there and laugh like a hyena, you can turn right around and go back down that damned . . .” Paul pulled her into his arms and silenced her with a kiss. At first she sputtered, but then her arms tightened around him and she kissed him back.
“What was that for?” Jayne looked confused when he let her go at last.
“If we had continued to argue about our previous argument, it would have been another six months before I saw you again.”
“But it really was my fault. You’ve got to see . . .”
Paul grabbed her and kissed her again. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? When he let her go, Jayne was giggling.
“I get it. Every time we start to fight, you kiss me. Is that right?”
“That is correct. It is impossible to disagree if we cannot talk.” Paul stood up and extended his hand. “Come, Jayne. Let us go to bed before we begin another quarrel. It is also impossible to argue in bed.”
Jayne took his arm and let him take her to the bedroom. She sighed in pure enjoyment as Paul undressed her and she felt his warm hands on her skin. Oh, how she’d missed his hands and his lips and his strong, warm body that made her cry out in delight! Her last rational thought, before passion turned her body into a trembling cluster of needs and desires, was that Paul was right. They had never argued in bed. If they just stayed between the sheets forever, they wouldn’t have any problems at all.
TEN
An hour passed while he paced the floor in the garage security office until he was sure that everyone had gone to bed. Then he retrieved the pricey, compact, shortwave radio from his vehicle and carried it up to the penthouse spa.
He glanced at his watch as he switched it on. Almost midnight. The Old Man would be in bed. The device crackled as he attempted to connect and he moved to a better spot next to one of the glass windows where the static was minimal. His contact was almost out of range, but the altitude worked in his favor, a straight shot down the mountain with no obstacles.
“Yes?” A female voice with a slight foreign accent answered immediately. Since the Old Man’s wife had died in childbirth over thirty years ago, he’d surrounded himself with a succession of beautiful women. This one was Colette, a young French showgirl, his personal companion for the past six months.
“I’m calling from Deer Creek and I need to talk to him.”
“May I please say who needs to speak with him?”
“I’m the Caretaker.” He frowned, hating his code name. Every time he used it, he felt like an actor in a cheap movie. Unfortunately, precautions were a necessary evil.
“Just a moment. I’ll get him.”
The voice he heard next was sharp with concern. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine.” The Old Man always asked about her. He didn’t give a damn about anyone else and he never had. “I need some advice.”
“You woke me. This had better be good.”
“It is. The people who took care of your problem last month left the tickets behind. They were discovered tonight.”
There was a long silence with nothing but static while The Old Man considered the problem. Moments before he’d switched on the device, he’d decided that there was no sense in mentioning the bones in the pool. He’d already removed them and substituted a couple of steak bones from the garbage. It could all be chalked up to post-avalanche panic.
The old geezer who’d seen too much when he’d cleaned up the construction debris had been completely expendable. The soldiers had dumped him behind the liner and no one except the mission do-gooders had missed him. They’d figured that he’d wandered off to try his luck in another city. It was one less mouth to feed and the bums down there dropped in and left whenever they wanted. The horseshoe ring was no problem, either. It had no identifying marks and for all anyone knew, it could have belonged to a worker on the construction crew. There was no sense in bothering the Old Man with details. The problem had been solved and that was what counted.
“Hello?” he asked, wondering if he’d lost his connection. This was taking too much long. There was no answer and he was about to disconnect and try again when the Old Man spoke.
“You can talk now. I hooked up a scrambler. How about those suitcases?”
“Your soldiers put them in the gardening shed. They barely had room for the body in the truck.”
“Get rid of them.”
“I will, as soon as I can get down the mountain. They’re safe. I put on a new padlock and I have the only key.”
“There’s nothing else to tie us to that rat?”
“Nothing concrete, but one of the women spotted your soldiers. She said they looked mean and scary.”
“They are.” The Old Man chuckled. “Contact me if there’s any problem. You got that?”
“I got it.” He was still scowling as he switched off. He’d been well rewarded for being the Old Man’s errand boy, set up in a business that netted all the money he’d ever need and served as a laundry besides, but he’d never been trusted to act on his own. He knew he was much more capable than others who held positions of honor. All he had to do was prove it.
Rachael sat in one of Clayton’s big leather armchairs and watched him pace. He was restless tonight and even though she was tired, she didn’t want to go to bed without him.
“So what do we have for damage, Rachael?” Clayton stopped by the couch to pick up one of the legal pads on the coffee table.
“Nothing of any consequence. A couple of broken glasses from the bar and . . .”