The Desperate Game: (InterMix) (19 page)

“Good grief,” she managed to say dryly, “you’d think I had just announced I intended to run off for a quickie weekend fling with the boss.”

“That’s not what you’re announcing?”

“Zac,” she whispered grimly, leaning forward, “I am discussing business. The trip to the resort in the San Juans is business. My association with Mr. Vandyke is business. Now if you’ll climb down off your macho high horse, you and I will continue to discuss business. If you’d rather sit there and ruin a perfectly good lunch by glowering at me, then I’ll let you eat alone.”

“Where,” he asked bluntly, “do I fit into all this
business
?”

“That’s what I was just getting around to explaining.”

“I can’t wait.”

Guinevere drew a deep breath, glad that his eyes had cleared a little. He had no right to react so possessively, she reminded herself. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Zac had come to some sort of official understanding about their vague relationship. But it was hard to make the piece of wisdom stick. “I think Mr. Vandyke needs you.”

“In what capacity? Chaperon for you and him?”

“Hardly. Mr. Vandyke is nearly fifty and very much in love with his wife.”

“Who is presently giving him a hard time.”

“Forget Vandyke’s wife. I think he needs you to provide him with peace of mind, Zac. I’m going to have a talk with him this afternoon and see if I can’t get him to understand that.”

Zac looked at her blankly. “Peace of mind? What the hell kind of peace of mind am I supposed to provide him? Is he afraid his wife will find out he’s run off to some resort with his new temp secretary? Gwen, you’re not making a whole lot of sense here.”

“I am talking about his peace of mind regarding his proposal documents.” Infuriated by his deliberate obtuseness, Guinevere set down her spoon with a snap. “Mr. Vandyke has several things preying on his mind at the moment. I am suggesting that he hire you to take some of the pressure off at least one area of his concerns.”

“You’re going to tell him he should hire me to baby-sit his precious documents? Forget it, Gwen. I’m in the security consulting business, remember? I’m not a file clerk.”

“For someone who’s not going to see another consulting fee until January, you’re being rather uppity about this, aren’t you?”

“I’m not starving to death. If I find myself in danger of it, I’ll ring your front doorbell and beg for a handout.”

“You’d rather beg from me than work for a living?”

A rare, wicked grin slashed across Zac’s face. “A tantalizing thought, isn’t it? What would you give me if I came begging, Gwen?”

“A meal ticket down at the mission! Zac, stop making a joke out of this. I am genuinely worried about my client, and I think I’ve found a way to take some of the stress off him and at the same time throw a little business your way.”

“A perfect Guinevere Jones solution.”

She gave him a challenging look. “Well, isn’t it?”

“What do you envision me doing, Gwen? Running around for three days with a briefcase chained to my wrist? Who’s going to steal the documents from him at the resort anyway? He’s going there to meet the potential client, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s not the only developer who will be presenting his bids to Sheldon Washburn. There will be two other companies represented. Those executives will, in turn, undoubtedly be bringing along assistants or secretaries too, any one of whom might be a spy.”

“The plot thickens.”

Guinevere regarded him with lofty disdain. “Are you interested or not?”

“Not.”

She was startled more than anything else. It hadn’t occurred to her that Zac would refuse the offer of a job. It was Guinevere’s turn to blink. “You mean that? You really don’t want to pick up a nice check for three days’ worth of easy work?”

“I’m not sure it’s good for the image,” he said as the soup bowl was removed and replaced with a plate of spiced noodles and chicken. “Briefcases chained to the wrist and all that. Kind of tacky. Smacks of courier boy or something. Low-class.”

“I never said the briefcase would have to be chained to your wrist,” she muttered. “And since when did you become so concerned with status?”

“You’ve been teaching me how important image is lately. It’s all your fault.” He spun a fork around in the noodles, expertly winding them into a bite-size chunk.

Guinevere paused, more off-balance by his refusal than she wanted to admit. She’d had plans, she realized. The long weekend at the resort would have provided an opportunity to find some peace of mind for herself as well as for her current employer. “Well, I suppose if you feel that strongly about it, I’ll just have to think of something else.”

“I not only doubt Vandyke’s need of a document babysitter on this jaunt, but also doubt his need of a private secretary.” Zac went on in cool, level tones. “I see no reason for him to drag you along. Tell him your agency does not provide twenty-four-hour secretarial service.”

Guinevere narrowed her eyes, resentment beginning to simmer in her. “I run Camelot Services, Zac. I’ll decide what jobs to accept.”

“Hadn’t you better be concerned with your own image?” he responded too smoothly. “If you get a reputation for taking out-of-town trips with businessmen, you might find yourself swamped with more work than you can handle.”

Resentment turned to fury, effectively killing her appetite. It took a fierce effort of will to control the angry trembling in her fingers as Guinevere carefully folded her napkin and got to her feet.

“Gwen?” Zac frowned as he realized she was preparing to leave.

“Don’t worry, Zac. I won’t stick you with my portion of the tab.” Coolly she slid enough money out of her gray leather clutch to cover her share of the meal. “That’ll take care of my bill with enough left over for a tip. I’ll have to trust you not to pocket the tip, of course, but I guess I don’t have any choice.” She reached for her coat.

“Jesus Christ, Gwen, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Walking out before you can insult me any further.” She smiled very brittly. “I’m going back to the office where the man I work for happens to be a gentleman. Gentlemen are so rare these days.”

“Damn it, Gwen, I wasn’t insulting you. I was just trying to make a point. Now sit down and stop acting like a child. This is ridiculous—”

But Zac was talking to empty space. Guinevere had her coat on and was on her way out the restaurant. In stunned amazement he watched the scarlet coat disappear through the front doors. Out on the street she turned in the direction of Vandyke’s office building, and then she vanished in the crowd. The problem with the new style in women’s lunch-hour footwear, Zac decided, was that it allowed the wearers to move a great deal faster than they could in high heels.

Slowly Zac pulled his attention back to his half-eaten spicy noodles. “Damned temperamental female.”

“Excuse me, sir, more coffee?” The waitress paused with a politely inquiring smile.

“No thanks.”

“Will the lady be returning?”

“She had to leave,” Zac mumbled, searching for a convenient excuse. It was humiliating to have a woman walk out on you in a public restaurant he discovered, chagrined. “Business appointment.”

“Of course. I’ll clear her plate.”

It would be tacky to tell her to leave Gwen’s plate of noodles so that he could finish them, Zac decided morosely. “Fine.”

Just one more irritation to chalk up to Guinevere Jones, he thought as he watched the excellent noodles disappear toward the kitchen. Not only did Jones abandon him in the restaurant, but he couldn’t even find a polite way to finish off the food she’d left behind. The lady was getting to him. Zac grudgingly acknowledged to himself that he wasn’t accustomed to this level of uncertainty around a woman.

It seemed to him that he’d been alternately irritated, possessive, uncertain, and exhilarated since he’d first encountered Guinevere Jones a few weeks ago. The first time he’d gone to bed with her he’d been subtly aware of a deep sense of satisfaction, a feeling of rightness that he couldn’t begin to explain in words. So he hadn’t tried. Perhaps he should have made the attempt, but Zac wasn’t sure that he could manage the task or that Guinevere would want to hear the words if he had succeeded in saying them.

Their relationship was at a very tentative stage. It could not yet be characterized as an affair, although Zac knew he would be irrationally enraged if he found out she was seeing another man. But surely they had more than a casual dating arrangement. At least it felt like more than that to him. He’d like to get matters to the point where he could say he was having an affair with Guinevere Jones, Zac thought. The words sounded good to him. They had a nice, settled,
defined
tone. But as yet he hadn’t dared say them aloud in Guinevere’s hearing.

Words, in general, seemed to be a real problem around Guinevere. Bleakly Zac finished his noodles and then cradled the cup of coffee in his large hands. Had he insulted her? He hadn’t meant to. She must know that. He’d only been trying to point out that weekend jaunts with bosses might be frowned on in some circles, severely frowned on by one Zachariah Justis as a matter of fact.

Damn it, he’d only been giving her some good advice. She certainly spent enough energy giving him advice!

Of course, he reminded himself, perhaps from her point of view, she’d been attempting to do him a favor. She’d tried to throw a little business his way. He’d been too busy jumping on her for scheduling that weekend trip with Vandyke to pay much attention to the baby-sitting job she’d suggested. Zac stared down into his coffee and thought about her proposal. Normally the project would not have interested him in the slightest. He had no intention of hiring himself out to ride shotgun for executives who saw industrial spies behind every water cooler. He had deliberately structured Free Enterprise Security, Inc. to be a cut above that sort of mundane operation. His firm was a consulting business. He gave expensive advice, conducted expensive but highly discreet investigations, and generally aimed for a sophisticated security image. True, he was still Free Enterprise’s only employee, but someday things would change. In the meantime, he didn’t want to jeopardize the image.

Zac was listlessly swirling the last of the coffee in his cup, wondering how to go about making amends for his insult, when it struck him that there was one irrefutable advantage to accepting Guinevere’s job suggestion.

It would enable him to spend a three-day weekend with Gwen at a classy resort. Three days on an island with Gwen.

Stunned by the implications and wondering foolishly why he hadn’t spotted them right from the start, Zac hurriedly fished out his worn leather wallet and matched the amount Gwen had left on the table.

Three days at a fancy resort with Guinevere Jones at the client’s expense. It boggled the mind. No wonder he’d had trouble putting the right perspective on the job offer, Zac told himself. After all, he rarely encountered that degree of luck in the universe. What was the matter with him? He’d been so damned busy warning Guinevere not to go flitting off with another man that he hadn’t even realized she was offering him a chance to be the one she spent the weekend with.

There was the unfortunate matter of having to safeguard a development proposal, but in his new, tolerant mood Zac could anticipate no real problem with that element of the situation. A briefcase would be an annoyance, but he could deal with that. He headed back toward his office, wondering if Gwen would let him handle the room reservations.

As soon as he reached the tiny cubicle he rented in the downtown high-rise, Zac threw himself into the new chair he’d bought with the fee from the StarrTech case and reached for the phone. Guinevere answered on the second ring. Zac half smiled as he heard what he called her office voice: husky, polite, and just distant enough to let the caller know that the lady was professional in every sense of the word.

“Gwen? Zac. Listen, I’ve been giving your job offer some more thought.”

The polite quality left her voice, but nothing could banish the pleasant huskiness. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m serious, and I’ve decided you’re absolutely right. I can hardly afford to turn down the work. Tell Vandyke that I’ll be glad to baby-sit his development proposal.”

“You will?” She sounded startled.

“Sure. On one condition.”

Instantly suspicious, she asked, “What condition?”

“No gold handcuffs for the briefcase.”

“You want silver or stainless steel?” A thread of humor finally warmed the ice in her voice.

“I’ll just clutch it with my bare hands. Oh, and Gwen?”

“Yes, Zac?”

He coughed a little, clearing his throat. “Have you made the reservations?” Visions of sharing a room for three days with Guinevere sizzled through his head. He felt his body tighten in instinctive response.

“No, not yet.”

“I could handle ours,” he said as nonchalantly as possible.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Zac,” she told him breezily. “Vandyke’s travel department will handle everything.”

“Oh.”

Zac hung up the phone, determined not to let the small setback bother him. He would see this as an opportunity to be creative in the field.

Sitting in Vandyke’s office, Guinevere stifled the unexpected burst of excitement that threatened to bubble up inside her. This would be a working weekend, naturally, but still . . .

She halted the direction of her thoughts and went to work on the problem of how to convince Edward Vandyke that Free Enterprise Security was just what he needed to give him a little peace of mind.

***

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Jayne Castle, the author of
Canyons of Night
,
Midnight Crystal
,
Obsidian Prey
,
Dark Light
,
Silver Master
,
Ghost Hunter
,
After Glow
, and
After Dark
, is a pseudonym for Jayne Ann Krentz, the author of more than fifty
New York Times
bestsellers. She writes contemporary romantic suspense novels under the Krentz name, as well as historical novels under the pseudonym Amanda Quick. She lives in Seattle. You can find her online at www.jayneannkrentz.com.