CHAPTER 25
Noah answered his ringing cell phone.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"Nadia?"
"Yes, Noah, Nadia," she replied waspishly.
He took a cautionary glance over his shoulder to make certain that Daniel hadn't yet made his way downstairs. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in through the open slats of the window shutters, casting long stripes of light and shadow across the hardwood floor and lending the pale saffron walls a mellow glow.
The Matherlys' country house was a bit fussy and cluttered to suit his taste. He favored contemporary. Right angles and sleek surfaces. But for what it was, the restored Colonial had been nicely done. Several years ago it had been featured in
_Architectural _Digest--the country retreat of a book-publishing icon.
Here in the living room the easy chairs were wide and deep, and each had a requisite footstool. The intricate brass fireplace screen was an original to the house. Rosemary Matherly's collection of china plates from all over the world was displayed behind the glass doors of a tall cabinet.
Scattered about on end tables and in shelves were photographs of Daniel with notable authors and luminaries from other fields of endeavor ranging from
#the entertainment industry to sports, #######567
to politics, including two presidents.
Pictures of Maris chronicled her
childhood, adolescence, and emergence into young womanhood.
There were several photos of Noah and Maris together. One taken at their wedding reception showed the laughing bride hand-feeding him a bite of wedding cake. He took perverse pleasure in looking at it now as he talked to his most recent mistress.
"I've been calling you all day," she said.
"And I've been avoiding you. When I see one of your numbers on the caller ID, I let it ring."
"I figured that. So this time I'm calling from a friend's phone."
"Male or female?"
"That depends on whether or not you're speaking to me."
"You've got a selective memory,
Nadia. Obviously you've forgotten why I'm not speaking to you."
"Of course I haven't forgotten. But I woke up this morning deciding to forgive you, so--was
"You decided to forgive _me? I didn't boink my personal trainer."
"I've seen your personal trainer, Noah.
No one would want to boink him."
She was at it again. Mocking him. Being condescending. Just as she'd been when he found her swaddled in damp sheets and postcoitus bliss.
Hearing the ridicule in her voice now resurrected the rage he'd felt then. The emotion that had roiled inside him hadn't been inspired by jealousy. He couldn't care less who she fucked or how often. Being mocked by her--that's what had rankled.
Rather than reacting with embarrassment, or remorse, or shame, or fear--which was the reaction he really craved to see from her--she had smiled at him insolently. How dare the bitch.
He'd been angry enough to kill her. He'd even entertained vivid mental flashes of placing his hands around her slender neck and squeezing until her eyes bulged, squeezing until her heart stopped.
He'd had the presence of mind not to act on the murderous impulse, but it had been strong enough for him to get a glimpse of his soul's dark side.
#Like the dark side of the moon, it was out of ###569
sight, but always there.
Several times during his life, it had been necessary to step over the boundary between light and darkness. But those brief forays into that dark region had left him shaken, feeling that he'd been lucky to return. He didn't venture into it unless he was given no other choice.
But recently he'd taken two prolonged glimpses into its shadows. First with Maris outside Nadia's apartment following her discovery of their affair. Then again with Nadia. In both instances, he'd wanted badly to hurt the offender.
Silence her. Injure her beyond recovery. Kill her.
He was intrigued now, beguiled by the extent of his dark side. He hadn't known it was so expansive and dense. The urge to explore it to its farthest reaches was almost irresistible.
Never guessing the malicious nature of his thoughts, Nadia still believed they were arguing over her fling with the weight lifter.
"The point is that you acted like a complete ass at lunch that day, Noah. I felt it
appropriate to remind you that nobody calls Nadia Schuller ìncredibly stupidànd
gets away with it. You got in your shot, and I got in mine. Now can we please move beyond this?"
He was tempted to call her the obscene name that so aptly applied and then hang up. That's what he wanted to do. But it wouldn't be smart to alienate her now. The deal with WorldView hung in the balance. Breaking with Nadia might jinx it.
Morris Blume seemed to like her. She'd been instrumental in bringing them together. Why not continue to take advantage of her usefulness?
Ultimately she would get what she had coming, but not until the WorldView deal was secured. His reward for eating a small portion of crow now would be ten million dollars. In fact, for ten million dollars and control of Matherly Press, he was willing to do much worse.
"Noah, please. Please tell me where you are."
Her voice had turned soft and conciliatory.
She was even making it easy on him. It was a win-win situation, and he couldn't ask for better.
Smiling to himself, he said, "I'm alone in the country house with my father-in-law."
"Daniel Matherly?"
###He chuckled. "He's the only ######571
father-in-law I've got."
"Why would you subject yourself to that?"
"Actually I invited him. We've got business to discuss."
"Ah, WorldView. You're planning a coup de gráce."
"Precisely." He explained that Maris was out of town again and that Maxine had been left in the city. "It's just me and the old man. Fishing.
Male bonding."
"Then a little arm-twisting."
"I doubt it'll come to that."
"He's not going to give in easily, Noah."
"Not easily, but he'll eventually be persuaded. I'm sure of it."
"Need a cheerleader for your side? I could drive up. You could tuck me into a corner somewhere. Is the country house roomy enough to accommodate you, me, and your father-in-law?"
"Interesting proposition. I'm tempted to sneak you in, but it wouldn't be prudent. Once the old man is into his cups, he tends to wander.
What if he ventured into the wrong bedroom and saw something straight out of the _Kama _Sutra?"
"Which page?"
"You're incorrigible."
"Absolutely. I have no shame whatsoever.
That's why I'm willing to risk being caught. If the old man stumbles in on us, who knows? It might do his heart good." She lowered her voice seductively. "The best sex is making-up sex, you know. I could bring along a box of chocolates. The gooey kind. The ones with the soft, creamy centers that you love to lick out."
"Good phone sex, Nadia. I'm aroused,"
he said truthfully.
"Give me two hours."
"I wish I could see you right now. But you know that you can't come here."
"Oh, I know it's out of the question. I have an enormous stake in this merger, too, and wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it. It's just that I miss you. Guess I'll have to be satisfied with my trusty vibrator."
"Do you have enough batteries?"
"I'm never without."
"Oops, I hear Daniel coming. Must go.
I'll see you when I get back to the city."
"Later, darling."
###He clicked off, then added, "Love ##573
you, too, sweetheart," to a dead phone. He turned just in time to see Daniel entering the living room. "Oh, damn! That was Maris. She wouldn't let me call you to the phone, afraid she'd be interrupting a nap. Want me to get her back? She said they were about to sit down to dinner, but I can probably catch--was
"No, no. How is she?"
"Working hard on the manuscript. Says it's awfully hot. The weather, not the manuscript,"
he added with a grin. "Misses us terribly, otherwise fine."
"Then don't bother her." Daniel settled into one of the easy chairs and propped his cane beside it. "I worked up quite a thirst during my nap."
Noah laughed easily as he crossed to the table that served as a bar. "Thirsty work, naps.
Double scotch?"
"On the rocks, please."
"I called the deli in town. They'll soon be delivering double-thick Reuben sandwiches, potato salad made with real mayo, chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream for dessert."
"God, I love the bachelor life,"
Daniel said as he accepted the drink from his son-in-law. "What a good idea this was."
Maris was glad she had changed for dinner because for the first time since her arrival, it was being served in the formal dining room, the hanging ghost notwithstanding.
She was wearing a gray silk dress she had bought early in the season at Bergdorf's, thinking it would be perfect for dinner out in the country. She reasoned that the lightweight fabric, slip-style bodice, and flared skirt were also perfect for dinner at home in an antebellum plantation house. She had accessorized it with a choker of pale coral beads.
Mike had laid a beautiful table.
Fragrant magnolia blossoms had been
arranged in a crystal bowl in the center of the table, flanked by silver candlesticks with white tapers.
He'd used china, silver, and crystal stemware that represented good taste and a sizable investment.
"This is lovely, Mike," she remarked as he held the lyre-back chair for her.
"Don't be too impressed," Parker said from his place at the head of the table. "It's all rented for the evening."
###"Yes, from Terry's Bar and #########575
Grill," Mike said drolly. "Besides smoking baby back ribs, he does a huge formal party rental business."
She laughed. "Wherever it came from, I like it."
"It all belonged to Parker's mother," Mike informed her as he poured the wine, forgetting that he'd delegated that job to her.
She looked toward Parker for confirmation. "The tableware was handed down through generations of Mom's family. It was bequeathed to either the first daughter or daughter-in-law. My mother had neither, so it came to me by default. It's been in storage since she died. This is the first time it's been used."
He slid a glance toward Mike. "Can't imagine what the special occasion is."
Maris raised her wineglass. "To the completion of _Envy."
"I'll drink to that." Mike raised his glass.
"It's not finished yet," Parker reminded them, but he raised his glass all the same.
The crystal stems sounded like chimes when they clinked them together. The Pinot Grigio was cold and crisp, a perfect complement to the meal Mike had prepared.
Parker might have disavowed that this was a special occasion, but she noticed that he had changed for dinner, too. She wondered if Mike had mandated the extra grooming or if it had been voluntary. Although his only nod toward styling his hair was to rake his fingers through it, the tousled look suited him. He had recently shaved; she could smell the sandalwood soap. He was wearing his customary casual pants, but his shirt was tucked in. The sleeves were rolled back to just below his elbows, revealing his strong forearms.
The candlelight blurred the lines that years of pain had etched into his face. It softened the hardness that resentment had stamped on his features and allayed the bitterness that compromised his smiles.
He also seemed to be relaxed and enjoying himself.
While they ate, he regaled them with wild stories about Terry, of Bar and Grill fame, who was reputed to be everything from a modern-day pirate to a drug runner to a white slave trader.
"I don't know or care which rumor is true or if any of them are. He grills one hell
#of a burger." #######################577
Maris shuddered at the memory of the tavern.
"I can't recommend the place. Totally unsavory clientele."
"Hey!" Parker said, looking affronted.
She gracefully turned the conversation back to the book. "The tension mounts."
"I presume you mean between Roark and Todd."
"It's becoming palpable," she said. "What I read today leads me to believe that it's soon to come to a head."
"I'm giving nothing away."
"A hint? Please?"
He looked at Mike. "Think I should divulge a few plot twists?"
The older man considered it for several seconds. "She _is your editor."
"That's right, I is," Maris declared. They laughed, then she leaned toward Parker to make her appeal. "What if you're about to make a fatal mistake, editorially speaking? If you talk me through the next few scenes, I could steer you clear of any potential pitfalls and save you a lot of rewrites."
Parker's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You know what that sounds like? A veiled threat."
"Not at all." She flashed him a saccharine smile. "It's outright extortion."
He placed his palm over the mouth of his wineglass, and his strong fingers absently traced the pattern cut into the crystal. His eyes remained on her. She looked back at him with challenge.
Mike pushed back his chair and stood up.
"Who's ready for strawberry sorbet? I made it myself from fresh berries."
Without disengaging her eyes from Parker's, she asked, "Need any help?"
"No, thank you." Mike went into the kitchen through the connecting door and it swung closed behind him.
Maris was slightly short of breath. Her tummy felt weightless despite the meal she'd just eaten. Two glasses of wine were hardly enough to make her feel this light-headed. So she attributed her sudden case of the flutters to the way Parker was looking at her--like she was the tastiest item at the table that evening.
"Well? What's it to be, Mr. Parker?"
"Tell you what." His eyes, which had strayed
#to the vicinity of her breasts, moved #######579
slowly up to her face. "We'll play a game of high-card draw."
She arched her brow inquisitively.
"Remember the scene in _Grass _Widow,"
he continued, "where Cayton and the reluctant witness to the murder played that game?"
"Vaguely," she lied. Actually she remembered it vividly. When the book was published, that scene had created a buzz.
"Erotically charged," was how _Publishers _Weekly had described it. "The reluctant witness was a woman, right?"
"Frenchy. Fragile, fair, and flighty.
So nicknamed because--was
"That part I remember."
He grinned a fox's grin. The one he
grinned right after isolating the plumpest hen in the flock. Maris knew she'd been had, but she didn't care. In fact, she was struggling to contain the idiotic smile her lips were aching to smile.
Pulling a serious face, she said, "My memory is a little dim on the rules of this game."
"Easy. They used a standard deck of cards.
They each draw a card. High card wins."
"Wins what?"
"If Cayton won, Frenchy had to give him a clue to the murderer's identity."
"What if she drew the high card?"
"Cayton granted her a sexual favor."
"_He granted _her a sexual favor."
"Right."
She tapped her pursed lips with her fingertip as though stymied by the illogic. "It seems to me that--and correct me if I'm wrong--that Cayton would win either way."
"Well, see, he made up the rules, and he's no dummy."
"But Frenchy--was
"A crotch-throb by any standards. Long red hair. Legs that go on forever. Pale freckles on her tits. An ass that ... Well, you know the type. But, unfortunately, she's not the brightest bulb in the chandelier."
Maris gave the swaying chandelier overhead a glance before continuing. "So the outcome of this game was that Cayton got the information _and the crotch-throb."
"Was that a brilliant idea or what?"
"And you expect me to be no brighter than
#Frenchy? You expect me to play by these ###581
rules?"
"I guess that depends."
"On how badly I want to hear those plot twists?"
"Or on how badly you want those sexual favors."