Double Dealing (5 page)

She could see him taking it all in, grinding it up, rearranging
the facts into little patterns in his head. Samantha would have given a great
deal to be able to read his mind. As it was, it was like watching a blank brick
wall. Was he even interested? She decided to press a bit further.

“I will make a tidy fortune out of this, and you will receive
a healthy percentage of return on your invested money. As my silent partner I
promise you will be amply rewarded, Gabriel,” she told him earnestly. “It should
be a quick, clean kill. When the big developers run into a snag just as they’re
nearing the end of a site assembly like this, they’ll pay unbelievable amounts
to buy up a crucial chunk of land. You know that as well as I do. I’ll do all
the work. All you have to do is put up the money and forget about it until the
payoff.”

Finally an emotion flared briefly in the hazel eyes, and
Samantha cringed inwardly. He was laughing at her. God, she mustn’t come across
as naive; that would be the kiss of death as far as he was concerned. He wouldn’t
risk his money in the hands of a naive businesswoman. “Just how long will I
have to forget about my money?” he inquired gently. Too gently.

“Buchanan is starting to move. I’d say someone will make an
offer on the restaurant in the next few weeks.”

“Tell me something, Samantha. You knew when you picked up
the option to buy that restaurant that you were going to need a source of cash
to close the deal with the owner when the time came. What was it you found in
your computer data banks which led you to choose me as a potential business
partner?” Gabriel’s bluntly carved features were utterly devoid of expression.

More questions? Didn’t the man ever stop asking questions
and get to the important stuff? Samantha could have screamed with frustration,
but instead she rallied herself to respond calmly. There was something about
the solid rocklike deliberation of this man which was beginning to irritate
her, though. She found herself wondering what it would take to ruffle or
disturb him. The temptation to experiment in that dangerous direction was a
strong one and one she repeatedly reminded herself she must resist. She was
here to entice the man into her web of business intrigue, not send him plodding
off in the opposite direction.

“I discovered your name linked to a Buchanan Group deal that
took place four years ago. It wasn’t very clear, and the report was only a
scrap of news in
The Wall Street Journal
,
but I got the feeling from reading between the lines that you and Buchanan had
both attempted a buyout of a small electronics firm in San Jose. Buchanan got
it.” She waited expectantly. Would he deny the report?

He didn’t. He nodded once, complacently, as if satisfied to
have one more piece of the puzzle fall into place. One more tiny item cataloged
and shelved. “So that’s why you dropped his name into your note. Buchanan got
caught up in the merger mania which was so rampant then. Started acquiring all
sorts of unrelated businesses which, I understand, he’s since dumped. I was backing
a group of private entrepreneurs who wanted that little San Jose firm. But all
the moves were made officially by the people I was backing. I was a very silent
partner. I’m surprised you found my name associated with the deal. I
congratulate you on your detective work.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the accolade with a polite inclination
of her head, trying not to appear too satisfied. Actually she was delighted he
recognized the difficulty it had taken to
worm
out
the details of his involvement in that particular deal. Perhaps it would help
elevate his opinion of her business sophistication.

“So now you think I might be interested in a way of evening
the score with Buchanan, is that it?”

“It occurred to me that you might find the prospect intriguing,”
she murmured very casually. “But even if it doesn’t appeal from that
standpoint, it’s still a way for you to make some very easy, uncomplicated
money.”

“Money in large quantities, I have discovered, is seldom
easy or uncomplicated.”

Samantha said nothing, nibbling on the soft inner portion of
her lip and mentally kicking herself for adding that last comment. Lord, he
could be pedantic!

“If something goes wrong with your plan and Buchanan’s people
never get around to making an offer to you, I would be left holding half
interest in a restaurant in Phoenix,” he mused. And then, quite unexpectedly, he
grinned, a totally astonishing slash of white teeth which made Samantha think of
sharks and pirates. “Can you cook, Samantha? I mean, just in case we were to find
ourselves running the place together?”

She eyed him owlishly, taken off guard by the humor in him. “I,
uh, wasn’t thinking of a half interest for you,” she finally retorted smoothly,
ignoring his question about her cooking ability. “Unless, of course, we do wind
up owning a restaurant.”

“You’ll give me a small cut of the profits if you make your
fortune and a large s-s-share of washing dishes if you fail, is that it?”

“Would you be willing to agree to a deal like that?” she
asked innocently.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re probably not going to be quite that generous,”
she grumbled dryly.

“You think right.” Gabriel sat quietly, clearly going over
the possibilities inherent in the offer. The momentary humor had faded
completely from his face now, and Samantha knew he was back to being all
business. Slow, deliberate, careful business. She wasn’t offering him the best
deal in his career, and she knew it.

True, they stood to make a great deal of money, but he had
undoubtedly made more backing other ventures. Still, he must be somewhat
intrigued by the idea of evening the score between himself and Drew Buchanan. He
had enough of an ego to want to accomplish that much, surely? It was only a
business feud for him, of course, and an old one, at that. As such it couldn’t contain
the element of calculated revenge it contained for her, but it should be enough
to keep Sinclair interested.

Besides, how could she hope for genuine, passionate revenge
from a man who poured tea the way Gabriel did? She watched him lift the teapot
one last time, a little fascinated in spite of herself with the studied restraint
of every move. Did this man even know the meaning of the word passion in
business or even in bed? She sincerely doubted it. On the heels of that thought
came another: Perhaps he was lucky.

“Well?” she finally couldn’t resist prompting after a few
more minutes of sustained thought on Gabriel’s part.

He blinked and looked across the table at her as if she had
interrupted a complex chain of logic he’d been building in his mind. “Well,
what?”

She could have slugged him. Instead she sat very still in
her chair and forced a tentative smile. “Are you interested?” Why was he
dragging everything out like this? Wasn’t the beautiful simplicity of the whole
thing obvious to him?

“You’re expecting an answer right now?” he asked in open
astonishment.

Samantha’s mouth firmed as she realized he wasn’t anywhere
near to giving her an answer. “I don’t have a lot of time at my disposal.” She
tried pushing carefully.

“Nor do I,” he retorted, rising slowly to his feet with a
decisive air. “Which is why I try not to waste time on business propositions
which lack important support data.”

Oh, Lord, she was losing him! Samantha leaped up,
frantically searching for a way to keep him from simply walking out of the room
and leaving her high and dry. “This deal has been quite carefully researched,”
she asserted. “And I have the information with me. Perhaps we can review it
over dinner? The facts are impressive and speak for themselves.” Was she
looking too hopeful? Too anxious? Keep it cool, Samantha. Calm and cool. You’re
the one in command.

Gabriel arched one heavy mahogany brow. “Dinner. That sounds
like an excellent idea.”

“Good,” she said quickly. “Then I’ll make reservations at
the restaurant here and we can… Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just remembered what a totally horrid restaurant the
spa has. You can’t even get a glass of wine to go with the sprouts! Do you know
of any other place close by?”

“Certainly. My home,” he suggested immediately, startling
her yet again. The hazel eyes gleamed with remote curiosity as he waited to see
if she would accept.

But Samantha wasn’t about to hesitate. She literally jumped
at the opportunity. “Fine.” She beamed engagingly. “If you’ll let me have your
address, I’ll be over at seven.”

“I was going to offer to come pick you up,” he began cautiously,
regarding her eager expression as if she were an overexcited puppy which might
leap up on him at any moment.

Seeing the wariness in him, Samantha desperately reined in
her enthusiasm. “That’s quite all right,” she returned sedately. “I’ll be happy
to drive myself to your home.”

Anything to get on with this deal, she added mentally.

“I’ll give you directions,” Gabriel said politely, drawing a
small notepad from his pocket.

Why was he the one suddenly looking rather satisfied with
himself? Samantha wondered uneasily.

An hour after he’d left Samantha, Gabriel Sinclair methodically
rolled out piecrust into a near-perfect circle. With each movement, the rolling
pin traveled the same distance from the center to the outer rim, and after every
three rolls, the piecrust was carefully given a quarter turn on the
marble-topped pastry board.

That article in
Bon
Apétit
last month had been right. Marble really was
superior for working with pastry. The cool surface kept the butter in the dough
from melting. Gabriel knew a sense of satisfaction at the perfection of the
crust taking shape on the board. It was a familiar feeling, the kind of
satisfaction he always took in projects that were under control and turning out
as planned.

He hadn’t made a lemon meringue pie in ages. But there was
something about lemon meringue which made him think Samantha would like it. A
bit tart with an underlying sweetness. His mouth crooked slightly at one corner
as the image developed in his head. A tart tongue and a sweet ass. Yes,
Samantha and lemon meringue went very well together.

God, he was crazy to even be thinking of doing business with
someone about whom he knew so little. She was young, and although he didn’t for
one minute doubt her intelligence, he did wonder at her presumption when she
talked of taking on an opponent as formidable as the Buchanan Group. His own
memory of attempting to outmaneuver Buchanan four years ago was hardly a
pleasant one, and he knew he’d been better equipped, both in terms of
experience and financial backing, to enter the fray than Samantha was now.

Without his assistance little Samantha Maitland, regardless of
her quick tongue and her daring, would come to the same end. Buchanan would
flick her out of the way as easily as if she were a small fly which had had the
temerity to land on his custom-made shirt cuff. There would be nothing unduly
malicious about the act, simply the inevitable result of a lone player going up
against the team effort of a corporation the size of the Buchanan Group.

Clever of her to ferret out his own experience with Buchanan,
he acknowledged. And she had been smart enough to get ample play from the
information. It had been that oblique reference to Buchanan in her note which
had drawn him to the spa that afternoon. He had been curious; curious about the
person who had uncovered the facts about the aborted buy-out attempt and even
more curious about the approach Samantha Maitland was using to attract his
assistance. Within five minutes of meeting her Gabriel had known she was not at
all the sort of woman with whom he wanted to do business. She was too reckless,
too impatient with detail. She wanted to bite off far more than she could chew,
and she had every intention of involving him in the potential disaster which
might ensue. Correction, would most certainly ensue if he were foolish enough
to allow her to control the partnership. He liked to cook, Gabriel reminded
himself wryly, but he did not particularly want to wind up running a taco stand
in Phoenix!

Furthermore, any man dumb enough to get involved in a
business arrangement with Samantha Maitland would find himself struggling every
minute to stay in charge of the operation. There was no doubt at all in his
mind that she assumed she would be giving the orders, even if it was his money
being used!

No, as a business partner Miss Maitland definitely did not
meet his standards. But he’d stayed long after he’d come to that conclusion.
The curiosity which had brought him to see her at the spa had undergone a
subtle but definite change as they had sipped their tea.

Samantha Maitland intrigued him.

Hell, he thought roughly as he gave one last turn to the pie
dough. She did a damn bit more than intrigue him. He wasn’t particularly
interested in her as a business partner, but he had sure envisioned her as a
bed partner during those moments when he’d encountered her lying bare on that
massage table.

When she’d mockingly asked for his assistance, he’d had an
idiotic urge to scoop her up off the table and carry her out of the room. He’d
never thought of himself as an imaginative man, but in the brief fantasy which
had flickered into his head during those moments, he’d almost been able to feel
the tantalizing curve of her thighs against his arm. Even now he could sense
his body tightening just remembering the images which had flashed through his
mind.

She had been annoyed at the way he’d stood there and offered
his jacket, not bothering to turn around as she slipped off the table. How
furious would she have been if he’d followed through on the fantasy and had carried
her off instead?