Twist of Fate (13 page)

“No complaints,” she said softly. “But I could use a little help packing books.”

He relaxed, chuckling. “Don't worry. I'll earn my keep. See you in a few minutes.”

She watched him stride down the hall to the bathroom, marveling at the easy strength with which he moved. He was whistling a nameless tune. A part of her was tempted to follow him right into the shower. She resisted and headed for the kitchen, instead. The battery that ran Gideon's ego didn't need any extra charging this morning.

She had cereal and toast and coffee ready when he emerged fifteen minutes later wearing casual cotton pants and a fresh cotton shirt.

“Just think,” he said, swinging a chair around to face the kitchen table, “we've got a whole week of this in front of us.”

“And then what?” Hannah regretted the words the moment they were spoken. You weren't supposed to discuss the long-term plans for a short-term affair. She was certain that somewhere there was an unwritten law about it. But it was too late to recall the question. Gideon looked at her as his white teeth closed around a huge chunk of toast.

“Then we take it from there.”

“Sorry I asked.” Talk about a nonanswer. Hannah bit into her own toast with a certain savagery. Then she summoned a smile. “No more dumb questions. I promise.”

“It's not a dumb question,” he said. “It's just that there aren't any answers yet.”

“I know. I told you, it won't happen again.”

“Hannah.” He broke off, frowning as he tried to find the words he wanted. Then he gave up the task and switched topics. “What are you going to use to pack the books?”

“I don't know. I'll have to dig up some cartons. It'll cost a fortune to airfreight them back to Seattle, but I think that's what I'll do.”

“You'll need packing boxes. We might be able to buy them from the airline or a freight handler here on Santa Inez. We'll drive into town later today and see what we can find.”

Hannah grimaced. “I didn't exactly come prepared, did I?”

He shrugged. “It doesn't matter. I'm good at this sort of thing.”

“Finding packing boxes?”

He grinned. “Organizing.”

“Oh. Want to help me sort books after breakfast?”

“Should be interesting.”

And thus,
Hannah told herself bracingly,
we neatly pass over my little embarrassing faux pas.
She vowed not to make a fool of herself again. She was a big girl now. Big girls handled affairs with aplomb.

An hour later Hannah acknowledged aloud that the task of sorting through Elizabeth Nord's library was going to be far more involved than she had initially thought. One of the major problems was getting sidetracked by an interesting monograph or a fascinating bit of lore. Gideon wasn't immune, either. When Hannah glanced up from the folder of notes her aunt had made for a book, she found Gideon sitting crosslegged on the floor, an old, yellowed map spread out in front of him.

“What have you got there?” she asked.

He didn't look up. “A military intelligence map.”

“Really? Of what?”

“Revelation Island. It was done in nineteen forty-two. Shows a landing strip that was the main objective of the Marines who were assigned to take the island. This would have been top secret at the time. I wonder how your aunt came by a map like this.”

“She was doing her field work there in the early forties when the war broke out. I'm not quite sure when she left to return to the States.”

“Maybe she helped do the military map. After all, she must have had a thorough knowledge of the island.” Gideon bent over the faded, creased sheet of paper. “Military intelligence might have tapped her brain.”

Hannah watched him for a moment and then smiled. “How long have you been into maps, Gideon?”

“For as long as I can remember. I used to do these incredibly elaborate maps of my neighborhood when I was a kid.”

“Showing where all the cars with the best hubcaps were parked?”

“Cars with expensive hubcaps didn't park in my neighborhood.” He continued to study the reconnaissance map. “I thought about becoming a cartographer for a while but Cyrus Ballantine's way of life was too tempting. So maps became a hobby. I had an idea I'd collect them seriously one day. Maybe build a really good collection around a couple of themes. You know, military maps or nineteenth-century maps of the States. Maybe maps of the world done before a particular date. Then, after a while, maps became just something interesting to hang on the walls.” He was treating the map in his hand as carefully as if he were an antiquarian handling a rare book. Then he became lost in his study of the island outlined on the yellowed sheet.

Hannah was aware of a familiar sense of empathy and compassion. She knew without any doubt that Gideon should have nurtured his love of maps. He shouldn't have allowed it to disintegrate. It was the guidance counselor in her, she told herself. Too much pop psychology. She ought to keep her mouth shut. Gideon didn't welcome advice.

“Do you think you'll ever get back into your old hobby?”

“Who knows? There's not much time for it these days.”

“Because you're too busy taking over other people's companies?”

He glanced up at that, eyes hardening faintly. “Or threatening to take them over.” He spoke much too politely.

Hannah knew she had stepped over an invisible line but she couldn't stop herself from finishing. “You should, you know.”

“Should what? Take over companies?”

She shook her head. “No. Get back into maps.”

He tapped the edge of the sheet spread out on the floor in front of him. “I already have another hobby, remember?”

“Gambling? That isn't what you need. It doesn't provide the right kind of balance in your life. The maps might.”

“I thought you weren't handing out free advice on this trip.”

“I can't seem to help myself. Keep that map, Gideon. I have no use for it and you deserve something for helping me pack all these books.”

“It belongs with your aunt's collection.”

“I'm the one who decides what belongs and what doesn't.” She waved a hand cheerfully to indicate the piles of documents surrounding them. “I won't miss one little map.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure. Hang it on a wall in your home. When you look at it think about adding balance to your life.”

He considered her words, challenge etching his expression. Hannah didn't like the look he was giving her. It made her uneasy, warned her she might have bitten off more than she could chew.

“Maybe,” Gideon drawled, “I can use a woman to put a little balance into my life.”

“You might use a woman for a lot of things, but I doubt you'd use her to keep your life on an even keel.”

“Because I'm not bright enough to figure out how to do that?”

“No, because to do that you'd have to be willing to give up something of yourself. You'd have to surrender some of your sense of control. You're used to being the one in charge at all times. It would be hard for you to relax and let another human being have some room in your life. But the maps wouldn't present that kind of risk or threat. The trick with them would be to teach yourself to turn your back for a while on the fake rush you get from pulling off your business coups. It would be good for you, though.”

“You think you know me so well.”

“I've already proven I can make large mistakes trying to analyze you,” she reminded him.

He got to his feet in a lithe movement, advancing across the room to confront her as she sat at the desk. There was a restless gleam in his eyes and a touch of grimness around his mouth as he leaned forward and planted his hands on the teak surface. “Do you think last night was a mistake, Hannah? Worrying you made a serious error in judgment by allowing me to get into your bed?”

“No,” Hannah said with complete honesty. “I don't think last night was a mistake. My life has lacked something, too.”

“A man?”

She smiled at the arrogant satisfaction in him. “No. Risks. You're used to taking them and you're used to winning. I hadn't done much of either until I met you.”

“Getting the hang of it?”

“I'm getting the hang of taking the risks, all right. Got off to a great start trying to cheat you at cards. But I haven't had too much experience at winning yet. On the other hand,” she said evenly, “I'm a good student.”

“I can testify to that.” He hauled her lightly up into his arms. “I enjoyed watching you learn a few things last night. But now you're going to have to devote yourself to practicing what you've learned.” Some of the sensual amusement faded as he studied her face. “Hannah, whatever happens, don't ever doubt this is a two-way street. I needed this trip and I needed you. I've never needed anything so much in my life.”

Hannah smiled tremulously. The pendant seemed suddenly very warm as it lay between her breasts. She ignored the sensation and gave herself up to the more inviting heat of Gideon's kiss.

H
ANNAH FOUND
the colorful little map of Santa Inez Island and the sea around it on the third afternoon of her vacation. She knew it was the perfect gift the moment she saw it. Clutching her prize carefully so as not to crease its heavy paper she made her way through the crowded gift shop to the sales counter. A glance through the open door showed that Gideon was still occupied in the bookstore on the other side of the cobbled courtyard.

It was Gideon who had insisted that they take a break from the task of sorting and packing Nord's library. After lunch he had firmly bundled Hannah into the pink-fringed jeep and driven her into town. She was careful not to look down as they drove along the cliff road, and that precaution, together with her trust in Gideon's expert driving, made the trip almost enjoyable.

Hannah had been grateful for the forced break. Elizabeth Nord's papers and books were beginning to ignite a kind of obsessive interest. The packing had become slower and slower as each new item caught Hannah's attention. Her fantasy of writing the book that would infuriate Victoria Armitage was metamorphosing into more than a playful daydream. Hannah was starting to think quite seriously about the project. The realization was intimidating. She had enough of an academic background to know that Vicky was right. Elizabeth Nord's library should be turned over to the experts. Hannah had no business trying to scoop the academic world. But she could no longer shake off the desire to do so.

Hannah and Gideon had found the cluster of tiny shops when they had explored a narrow alley that led off Santa Inez's main street. It was a picturesque collection of boutiques in an old courtyard shaded by heavy palms. Several other tourists and a couple of watercolor artists had already discovered the inviting scene. It had been a delight for Hannah and now she had found the map. She waited impatiently while the clerk carefully rolled it and wrapped it.

As she left the shop with her purchase tucked into a shopping bag, Hannah wondered if Gideon would bother to hang her gift on his wall alongside the huge, expensive maps he already had framed. It struck her then that she might never know what he chose to do with the chart. Hannah paused in the dappled sunlight under a palm tree and forced herself to deal with that fact.

She might never see Gideon Cage again after this precious week in paradise. It was as she stood there, staring unseeingly at the dusty pink walls of the courtyard that she began to acknowledge the truth of her feelings for Gideon. Before she could put the feelings into words, a movement at the corner of her vision caught her attention.

Automatically she glanced to the side and saw one of the artists, a thin man with a beard dressed in shorts, T-shirt and thongs, begin to pack up his paints and brushes. He nodded politely as she watched him. A little embarrassed, Hannah quickly looked away.

The small distraction had broken the spell of her incipient brooding and Hannah told herself she would not let the mood return. This was, after all, only her third day with Gideon. She had four left. Buoyed by the thought, Hannah hurried toward the bookshop where Gideon was paying for a weekly business newsmagazine.

“You're supposed to be on vacation,” she reminded him as she saw his choice in reading material.

He grimaced. “I know. I've been feeling a little out of touch.”

“By the time you get back to Tucson everything in that magazine will be old news.”

“I'm aware of that.” His long fingers clenched rather fiercely on the paper sack.

It was the force of his grip on the sack along with the edge in his voice that convinced Hannah to change the subject. “There's a duty-free jewelry shop up ahead. I want to see if they have any real bargains on watches.”

But after careful perusal of the collection of Swiss and Japanese watches Hannah decided that she really didn't need anything to replace the twenty-dollar functional quartz watch she already wore.

“It does everything these fancy ones do,” she explained to Gideon. “Tells the time and date and what's more, it uses real numbers. I don't understand this trend toward designing elegant watches and then leaving off the numbers. What's the point of a watch without numbers?”

“Only someone who was not destined to be eternally trendy could ask that. It's almost five o'clock. Let's go have a drink and discuss the matter. Looks like it's going to rain any minute.”

He took her arm and led her out of the courtyard and back down the alley. By mutual consent they headed toward the main street of town, the one that overlooked the harbor and, after a little speculating, settled on an open-air, island-style bar shaded with a low-slung thatched roof. Under the thatched roof they found a pleasant collection of cane chairs and tables.

The rain came just as they were seated near the bamboo railing that encircled the bar. Hannah was growing accustomed to the frequent, warm showers that poured briefly from the clouds that built up overhead during the hot afternoons.

“I like the idea of warm rain. I think I could get used to it,” she told Gideon. “You don't have to worry about getting wet because you dry out in a few minutes anyway. Seattle should consider switching to warm water instead of cold.”

“The rain is like this in Tucson during the summers. Comes down like a waterfall in the afternoons. Cools things off for a while.” Gideon's eyes were on the small boats bobbing in the marina that nestled in a corner of the harbor.

The last thing Hannah had wanted to discuss was Tucson. In a firm voice she ordered a frothy rum and fruit juice concoction from the hovering waiter. When Gideon ordered his usual Scotch she berated him cheerfully.

“You can drink Scotch anytime. Why don't you try something new? Live dangerously.”

“I've already got enough excitement in my life.”

Hannah wasn't certain how to take that. It was not, she felt sure, a compliment to her. Gideon seemed to have his mind on something else entirely. She was afraid she knew what it was. The dignified heading of the business news-magazine was visible over the edge of the paper sack that lay on the table beside him. Determinedly she sought for still another topic.

“We should be able to finish packing my aunt's books by tomorrow.”

“If you can stop taking time out to read as you pack.”

Hannah winced. “I'm not the only one who gets sidetracked. Every time you come across a new map you take a break, too.”

“It doesn't slow me down.”

The drinks arrived before Hannah could seek still another conversational gambit. Gideon's mood was making her nervous. As usual, her knee seemed to react to the tension. Unobtrusively she stretched out her leg under the table, trying to relieve the tightness. Gideon's expression darkened.

“What's wrong? Leg hurting?”

“It's just a little stiff, that's all.”

“I told you that you were overdoing the long walks on the beach in the mornings. You should stick to swimming for exercise.”

“Yes, Gideon, you've mentioned that more than once.”

“For all the good it does.”

Annoyance began to replace the uneasy feeling. Hannah stirred her rum drink with a swizzle stick that had a tiny paper umbrella on the tip. “I'm the one who's in the professional advice business, remember?”

“Does that mean you don't take good advice, yourself?” There was clear challenge in Gideon's narrowed gaze. He cradled the Scotch between his hands and watched Hannah broodingly.

“Let's just say I'm probably better at giving it than taking it.”

“That's not saying much, is it? The advice you give isn't all that useful except maybe to some dumb kid in college who can't decide whether to go into medicine or join the circus.”

Hannah's fingers trembled slightly. She wrapped them more tightly around her glass. “I'm not sure the quality of my advice matters as far as you're concerned. You've made it clear you don't intend to take it.”

“You haven't given me anything useful.”

Just myself, wholeheartedly, for the past three nights.
“You're in a hell of a mood, Gideon. Mind telling me why you're looking for an argument?”

He closed his eyes in brief disgust. “I don't know,” he admitted finally.

Hannah took a breath and decided to try a tentative foray. “Is it because you've started worrying about your business and what's going on back in Tucson?”

“Just because I'm standing still on this island doesn't mean Ballantine is waiting patiently somewhere else.”

“So?”

“So I'm out of touch. I don't know what he's doing. I started thinking about it this afternoon. If I know Ballantine, he's moving.”

“Moving on what?”

Gideon moved a hand impatiently. “On a company called Surbrook. It's an aerospace manufacturing firm. Very lucrative but very strung out financially. A ripe target.”

“Are you going after the same company?”

“I've told my clients we're going to take over Surbrook, install our own management to straighten it out, and then unload it at a sizeable profit.”

“And Ballantine?”

“He's told his clients the same thing.”

“I see.” Hannah tried a sip of her rum drink, using the straw to siphon up the pineapple-and-guava flavored froth.

“I doubt it.”

“What's so complicated that a simple guidance counselor couldn't figure it out? You're both going after the same firm. Only one of you will get it. The only question is which gunslinger goes down in the dust in front of the Bitter End saloon, the old pro or the new, young tough. The trouble with gunslingers is that they never figure out there's another alternative.”

Gideon's face was set in harsh lines, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from asking, “What alternative?”

“One of the gunmen could simply walk away from the fight.”

“Jesus Christ, lady. If that's your idea of advice, you'd better stick to handing it out to undergraduates.”

“Well? Why can't you just walk away?” she demanded.

“Because in my business reputation is everything. If I start giving up on a project after promising my clients I'm going to make money for them, I'll very soon find myself without any clients. Is that simple enough for you?”

“I can't see why abandoning one takeover project should ruin your precious reputation.”

“If Ballantine doesn't get the showdown he wants over Surbrook, he'll simply create another. If I don't show up for the next fight, he'll try again. And again. And with each new contest he'll be a little stronger, a little wiser, a little harder to beat. By the time my back is against the wall, he'll be a hell of a lot harder to deal with than he is right now. Sooner or later my back will be to the wall, Hannah. Don't you understand? He'll simply keep pushing, keep going after everything I want until he forces me to fight back. He can afford some losses. After all, he's young and everyone knows he's just starting to claw his way up to the top. People will expect a few losses from him enroute.”

“But they won't tolerate losses from you?”

“I'm not supposed to make mistakes.”

“You make the whole thing sound inevitable.”

“It is,” he growled.

“Then why keep pushing me for advice you can't use and don't want?”

Gideon took another long sip of Scotch. “Damned if I know.”

Hannah had a flash of intuition. “It's because even though you say you have no alternatives, a part of you is still looking for a way out. You're hoping against hope that I'll come up with something really brilliant. Something that might give you an idea of how to handle Ballantine. Could anyone have stopped you nine years ago?”

“No.”

Hannah let that hang in the air for a moment. The rain began to slack off as the late afternoon thunderstorm disintegrated. Water ran quickly off the streets into the open gutters that lined the roads and alleys. Santa Inez had had its afternoon bath and was clean and sparkling once more.

“Have you considered,” she asked cautiously, “abandoning the field even if it means giving up Cage & Associates entirely? Let Ballantine take whatever he wants.”

Gideon stared at her as if she were out of her mind. “Are you crazy? I've spent nine years building that company. I created it out of nothing. I've spent every day for the past nine years making it what it is today.”

“But you're not enjoying it. From what I can tell, you've never particularly enjoyed it. You get a few adrenaline highs from the skirmishes but that's about it. You know what your problem is? You've lived off power for so long you're not sure you can live without it. But there are other things besides power out there, Gideon.”

“You don't know what you're talking about. You've been safely locked away in your liberal ivory tower, theorizing about the real world but never actually having to live in it.”

“That's not true.”