Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride (14 page)

“But if you did have a choice?” Liquid violet eyes melted into his, and he drew his caressing hand away from her face.

“Nothing would change! I would still prosecute!” He stood up and put some distance between her body and his. He found it difficult to think when he looked at her or touched her. She was too close to him and to the truth. Perhaps, even now, she knew that he suspected her of involvement in the embezzlement. He had to be cautious with her—or did he? Damn it! Never in his life had he let a woman come between him and his purpose in life. Never had a woman been so intimately involved in his private thoughts. Dear God, why did it have to be this woman who attracted him so achingly? His thoughts weighed heavily on him, and he leaned against the broad mantel of the fireplace and let his head rest against the worn wood. He needed time to think, time alone, to put his life in perspective. It was a mistake bringing her to this isolated haven; he should have realized that before he insisted that she accompany him. How could he have been such a fool? Where was his common sense? His voice, a throaty whisper, crept across the thick silence that separated them.

“Can’t you understand, Erin?” he pleaded. “Mitchell Cameron is a crook, and he has to pay.”

“But surely, as president of the bank, with your influence…”

His gray eyes held hers frozen. “Oh, God, Erin. My influence has nothing to do with my
responsibility!
”

“Why is the subject of Mitch always so difficult?”

“You tell me!”

“I don’t know!” she admitted honestly.

The silence was an electric current that seemed to bind them together and yet sever whatever peace they had shared. Kane eyed Erin with a haunted wariness that seemed to tire him, and Erin watched him with eyes naked in love and confusion. What was he trying to say?

He leaned against the mantel and rubbed the base of his head with his palm. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, as if he were trying to rid his body of tension. Slowly he seemed to relax; his tight muscles lengthened. With the effort his weight sagged wearily against the fireplace. “I think,” he managed to say, “that you and I should drop the subject of Mitchell Cameron until after the arraignment hearing.”

Erin let out a steadying breath. “Do you really suppose that I can just ignore the fact that Mitch’s fate depends on your decision?”

“Correction,” he cautioned sharply. “His fate depends upon his decision, one that was made quite some time ago. Not mine! I had nothing to do with it except unfortunately to catch a thief.”

“I don’t know that I can just erase it from my mind—as if we’ve never had this conversation.”

“Just for the weekend?” he suggested, and bent near to her. He took both of her hands in his and forced her to look deeply into his eyes. “I’m sorry for the outburst. The past two weeks have been a strain on both of us,” he said in an effort at apology. “But let’s just spend this time together and get to know each other a little better.” Deep lines of intense thought creased his forehead. “I—well, I need some time with you. Alone. Apart from Mitchell Cameron and the rest of the world.” His voice was a reluctant plea, and before she could answer him, he buried his head between her breasts and held her close to him. “Oh, Erin,” he whispered, his hot breath tantalizing her skin and arousing her breasts to an aching tautness. “Why do you tempt me so?”

Ignoring the doubts and warnings that still crowded her mind, she felt herself surrender to him, and her hands wound themselves in the thick strands of his burnished hair. Feeling her reaction, he slowly pulled his head away from the softness of her body and looked longingly into her eyes. Her breath came in short gasps, and she felt the warmth of desire curling upward in her body. A nearly wicked grin stole over his face as his fingers played with the buttons of her blouse. She made no move to stop him, and when the blouse finally parted, his gaze sought and found the swollen ripeness of her breasts.

She longed to be touched by him, to feel the heat of his body capture her soul and the essence of her being. Red and orange flames were reflected in the burning passion of his gaze.

“Do you know, do you have any idea, just how much I need you?” he asked, before covering her lips with his and seeking the open invitation of her warm, moist mouth. She couldn’t get enough of him. The delicious scent and tantalizing taste of his body, in kisses flavored by the wine, lingered upon her lips and teased her senses into a yearning ache that she couldn’t control. His lips explored the length of her body, all of her, gently nuzzling the hollow of her shoulder, rimming her ear, searching out the soft flat contour of her abdomen. “Dear God, how I want you,” he admitted.

“Then love me, Kane, love me,” she pleaded.

“I will, Erin,” he vowed, and moved over her, gently probing the most intimate part of her. Even in her drugged sense of well-being, she realized that he was speaking only of physical love, not the eternal love that she had requested. But for the moment it was enough.

Chapter 9

The two days that they spent together on the island were carefree and warm. After a light cover of morning fog, the late autumn sun would warm the sand, and for the most part the days were crisply cool and invigoratingly clear.

Erin taught Kane how to dig for razor clams along the edge of the tide, and after a few hesitant tries, he became rather adept at kneeling in the wet sand and furiously shoveling after the escaping mollusks. Once, when a particularly large wave caught him off guard and sent him sprawling headlong into the bitter, cold surf, Erin laughed, only to find herself dragged down into the icy water by Kane.

“That will teach you not to make sport of me,” he quipped, before kissing her soundly on her bluish lips. Another cold wave climbed over them, and they both hurried indoors to escape the frigid water and the cool air of autumn. They stripped off the wet, sandy clothes in front of the fire, while warming hot water to clean up the grit from the beach that had clung to their skins.

For most of the two short days, they spent their time beachcombing or taking the boat into nearby Deer Harbor for sightseeing and browsing in the various antiques stores. It was a wonderful time to be together, and by the end of the weekend, Erin found herself more in love with Kane than she ever imagined possible. She hated the thought of leaving the island and dreaded returning to the city, the job and the pressures that always seemed to build between them at home. She enjoyed the freedom that the island provided and loved being alone with Kane, loved touching him whenever she had the desire, and loved kissing him in the light of day, unafraid of what others might think. Disturbingly she wondered if it was such a fairy-tale existence that it could never be recreated, only remembered. All too soon it would end.

During the nights they spread a large sleeping bag on the floor in front of the fire, rather than chancing the well-worn and musty bed in the attached bedroom. They spent hours in front of the fire, talking, laughing and making love until dawn.

It was a glorious, heady experience. The entire weekend was too good to last.

When, finally, after what seemed a short afternoon, the sun began to set against the cold gray sea, Erin found Kane standing studiously on the porch. She had packed together all of her things, and she knew that it was well past the hour that Kane had planned to leave. And still he lingered. He half stood, half leaned against the railing and stared endlessly out toward the broad expanse of the ocean and into the beckoning twilight.

Quietly Erin watched him. She knew that he, too, was hesitant to leave the solitude of the romantic haven that this otherwise miserable excuse for a cabin had provided for them. She lowered her body into the rope hammock, which sagged and groaned against her weight. The noise distracted Kane, and he slowly turned to face her. His eyes were distant; his mind was light-years away. Lazily he leaned against the post that supported the roof of the porch and let his eyes slide caressingly over her body.

“I’m…ready to go,” she stated. It was a poor attempt at conversation.

“Are you?” he drawled.

“Everything’s packed. We really should get going.”

“I know,” he agreed reluctantly, and looked longingly once more at the ceaseless gray tide. He spoke softly, as if to himself. “It surprises me that I’m not itching to get back to the office. Usually I’m anxious and just can’t wait to get back behind my desk. But tonight—I don’t know—it all seems so pointless.”

When he faced her once again, his gray eyes moved over her face, as if he were memorizing every contour of her creamy skin. He made a simple statement with measured slowness. “I’m going to buy this cabin. We’ll come back together.”

“I hope so,” she breathed, and wondered why it was so important to her. Unconsciously she clung to the first promise that hinted of a future that they might somehow share together.

* * *

The week that followed was a dismal and lonely time for Erin. As Kane had promised, he refused to keep their affair quiet or in the dark. Although he didn’t actually make an announcement of the fact, his cold indifference in the office had disappeared, and it was with difficulty that Erin had managed to keep up appearances during working hours. His eyes caressed her, and his affection was never hidden. Although inwardly Erin was pleased, she couldn’t help but notice the reaction of the other employees of the bank, the expressively uplifted eyebrows whenever she was with Kane and the accusatory glances that were cast her way when she wasn’t with him. She tried to ignore the gossip that was blazing through the bank, but she couldn’t calm the churning of her stomach.

When Kane had to leave on Wednesday for California, Erin was slightly relieved that the pressure of keeping him at arm’s length at the office would be relieved for a while.

It was on Friday morning when everything seemed to happen at once. Kane’s absence, as expected, had created a little extra work for Erin as well as the rest of the staff, but what she hadn’t anticipated was an outbreak of the flu, leaving the office very shorthanded. Nor had she expected that the bank’s main computer would break down, slowing the month-end posting to a snail’s pace. It was a hectic, frustrating day, and when the telephone rang for what seemed to be the twentieth time within the span of five minutes, Erin couldn’t keep the tight strain of anxiety out of her normally composed voice.

“Miss O’Toole,” she nearly shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Erin?” a familiar voice inquired.

“Mitch? Is that you? I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” she exclaimed, and felt a pang of regret that she had answered the phone so harshly. “How are you?” she asked with genuine interest.

“I’ve been better,” was the matter-of-fact reply.

“Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry,” she began, suddenly at a loss for words. What could she say to him? Any condolence sounded foolish.

“I know, Erin,” he replied as if he really did understand that she still cared for him and considered him her friend.

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, before Mitch cleared his throat indecisively and stated the reason for his call. “I was wondering if you would like to go to lunch with me today?” he inquired.

“Oh, Mitch, I’d love to, but I’m absolutely swamped,” Erin replied as she gazed at the stack of unanswered telephone messages that had been growing on the corner of her desk.

“Too busy for lunch with an old friend?” he joked, but the humor fell flat.

“Of course not. It’s just that…well, Kane is out of town, and everyone here is down with the flu—including the computer.”

There was a harsh laugh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, well, I get the message” was the curt retort. “Some other time…”

Indecision tore at Erin. She knew that today was the day of Mitch’s arraignment hearing, and she also knew that if the judgment was turned against him, it was unlikely that she would see him again for an indefinite period of time. Kane wouldn’t approve of a meeting with Mitch; Erin was sure of it, and yet he had no control over her friendship with Mitch. For once her reason was cast aside as she thought about the lonely man on the other end of the telephone line.

“Oh, Mitch,” she said suddenly. “I’m sure I can meet with you today,” she choked out. “I’ll just have to make some room.”

“Good!” Was there excessive relief in his voice? “How about Shorty’s at one-thirty?”

“Perfect,” she agreed lamely, and felt herself something of a traitor.

The few short hours until her agreed rendezvous with Mitch flew by, and with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, Erin set out on the short walk to a local pub known for its specialty: barbecued spareribs. Located in an older hotel in Pioneer Square, Shorty’s had become a favorite with some of the employees of the bank, as much for its earthy San Francisco atmosphere as its flavorful food. Erin had been to the restaurant bar with Mitch several times in the past, but today, under the shroud of the allegations against him and the twisted set of circumstances surrounding them, she felt apprehensive about the lunch.
Don’t be silly,
she chided herself.
This is the same old Gay Nineties restaurant, and he’s the same old Mitch. Don’t let any of this talk of embezzlement go to your head.
But still her stomach knotted, and without thinking, she pulled her pewter raincoat more closely around her throat and shook off a chill that ran up her spine.

She swung the heavy wooden door inward, and stepped into the dimly lit and secluded restaurant. The tangy odor of honey and tomato sauce assailed her nostrils, and she felt herself relax a little with the familiar aroma. It was forced, but she even managed a smile for the blond hostess who led Erin to a table where Mitch was already seated. She hadn’t seen her ex-boss for over three weeks, and it was difficult to hide her surprise and embarrassment for the shell of a man that Mitch had become. Although more sober than the last time she had faced him, he carried with him a haunted look that destroyed the pleasantness of his face. His features, once bold, appeared gaunt, and his once-bright eyes had faded to a watery blue. A small, thin cigar was burning unattended in the ashtray.

At the sight of Erin, Mitch visibly brightened. His smile, though slightly strained at the corners, appeared genuine as he rose from the table while she was being seated. After she was comfortably settled in her chair, Mitch reached across the small table for her hand and clasped it warmly. “Erin,” he shook his graying head in wonderment. “If possible, you’re looking lovelier than ever!”

“Thank you,” she murmured, and nervously pulled the napkin from the table in an effort to steady her hands. It wasn’t like Mitch to gush, at least not the Mitch she remembered, and his bubbling enthusiasm seemed somehow phony and out of character. The uneasy feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was the way he didn’t quite meet her gaze, or the way he played with his cigar, but something about him made Erin definitely uncomfortable.

“So,” he said with forced joviality, “how’s it going at the old salt mine? Still as busy as ever?”

He had asked the question, but Erin had the distinct impression that he was totally uninterested in the topic that he had introduced.

“We’re busy—all the time,” she admitted, and when he didn’t immediately respond, she continued chattering to break the uncomfortable silence that was building. “Kane—that is, Mr. Webster, has been out of town for a few days, and well, that just tends to make things all the more hectic for everyone else….” Why did she feel compelled to rattle on about the bank, and why did she feel so nervous around a friend whom she had once respected? She wiped her damp palms on the napkin in her lap.

The waiter deposited two platters of ribs on the table, and Erin turned her attention to the saucy food, hoping to dream up a polite way of excusing herself at the earliest possible moment. She knew now that it was a mistake to have met with Mitch; she wasn’t ready to deal with him or any of the problems in his life. Loathing herself for her turn of feelings, she managed to continue to feign interest in her ribs, wondering why Mitchell Cameron had changed so much, and how she could manage an escape from the uncomfortable and intimate lunch.

It was then that Mitch brought up the subject of his courtroom hearing. “I suppose you know that the arraignment hearing is this afternoon?” he began slowly, and lit another cigar. His faded eyes waited to study her response.

“Oh, Mitch…I wish that all of this—problem—could be avoided,” Erin claimed, and he could read the honesty in her eyes.

“Yes, well, it’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” she sighed, touching her napkin to her lips and pushing the uneaten ribs aside. Her appetite had diminished. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”

Blue eyes lighted. “There is something.” His voice was bitter cold.

“Oh? What?”

Mitch shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Nothing much.” He shrugged his shoulders and reached inside of his jacket for a neatly folded piece of paper. “I was hoping that you could borrow a little information from the bank….”

“What?” she asked, perplexed, and ran a shaky hand through her sleekly restrained hair. “Information? What information?”

Mitch waved off her questions dismissively with the clean white envelope. “Well, it’s really not all that important, except that I can’t get my hands on the records, as I’m no longer employed with the bank.” He puffed furiously on his cigar, cloaking his head in a thin veil of blue smoke as he offered her the envelope.

Reluctantly she reached for the paper, as her uneasy stomach began to churn. “This information—what do you need it for?”

“I know it’s rather sudden,” Mitch rattled on, “but I need documents that would help clear my name. Bank records, trust documents, computer printouts on the dividend accounts, stock certificate registrations…nothing all that important….”

“You’re not serious!”

“Of course I’m serious. Everything I need is listed in there.” He pointed dramatically to the envelope that Erin was holding. She dropped it onto the table.

“Mitch!” Erin’s cool voice was tightly formal. “Are you suggesting that I confiscate private bank records and give them to you?”

“Not give…I just want to borrow the stuff, until I can get this embezzlement fiasco straightened out.”

“But you know that I can’t do that,” Erin exclaimed. “For one thing it’s against the law. All that information is confidential!”

“Erin!” Mitch interrupted her. “This is my life that we’re talking about. I face more years in prison than you’d want to count!” His eyes beseeched her, but she didn’t waver. She spread her hands against the linen-clad table, and looked him directly in the eyes.

“Mitch, you know I’d love to help you out, but you can’t expect me to do anything illegal, for God’s sake!”

He chewed on his cigar and rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other. All the while, his watery blue eyes impaled her.

“Can’t your attorney subpoena the information that you need? Why come to me?”

“It would be better for me this way, Erin. Otherwise I’d never put you on the spot. You know that. But any information that my attorney subpoenas will be sifted through by the prosecution. If they don’t know about the information until the time of the hearing, I could get the jump on them. You know, surprise the court, confuse the D.A., perhaps avoid the indictment!”