CHAPTER TEN
Lindsay fell asleep on a blanket near the fire. Her thumb slid between her lips, and she sighed.
The guinea pig came to life, digging in the shavings and his cage on the desk, and Lupus, ever vigilant, kept his eyes trained on the furry little creature.
“I think I’d better take Lindsay home,” Kimberly said quietly. “She’s had a long day.”
Jake grinned. “Very long.”
Snuggled with Jake on the couch, sipping the last of mulled wine, she didn’t want to move, couldn’t imagine returning to her own house without him.
He brushed his lips across her cheek. Touching the underside of her chin, he forced her to look at him. “Stay,” he whispered, and his silvery eyes wouldn’t let her go. “Spend the night with me. I mean, that was part of our bargain—two days and ... as many nights as you want.” His voice was low and velvety. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
She giggled. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredible ego, Mr. McGowan?”
“Too many to count,” he said with a teasing grin. “Come on, live a little.”
“I—shouldn’t.”
“Sure you should.” His eyes gleamed. “I’ve got plenty of room for both of you.”
“You mean all three of us,” Kimberly teased, motioning to Lindsay’s new pet. The guinea pig found his exercise wheel and started running.
Jake chuckled, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He disappeared into the back bedrooms, only to return with a quilted baby blanket in which he gently wrapped the sleeping Lindsay.
Bemused, Kimberly followed him down the hall to a small bedroom where L-shaped bunk beds fitted into one corner and a matching dresser was pushed against the wall. The room, painted white, was stark and bare except for the two pieces of furniture, and Kimberly guessed no one had ever occupied it. And yet it stood ready for a child. What child? Certainly not Lindsay.
Tenderly Jake laid Lindsay on the bottom bunk, brushing a strand of her hair from her face and pulling the blanket close around her chin. Kimberly’s heart turned over. Never had she seen Robert deal with Lindsay with such care—such obvious love. This man treated her as if she were his own. If only . . . she thought, projecting ahead. But she couldn’t let herself think of a future in which she and Jake and Lindsay became a family. There were too many hurdles to vault first. And there were things about Jake, secrets he hadn’t confided to her.
Jake reached to the dresser and snapped off the light. “See,” he said, standing, his voice husky. “She’ll be fine.” Lupus trotted into the room, curled in a ball near the foot of the bed and, placing his nose between his front paws, sighed loudly. Jake chuckled. “She’s even got a guard dog.” He patted the white shepherd fondly, and Lupus’s tail thumped the floor.
Kimberly smiled inwardly as they walked back to the living room in silence. The fire had nearly died. Jake busied himself rearranging logs in the grate while Kimberly stared for the first time at the bookshelves lining the wall. Law books, textbooks, computer manuals and a collection of science fiction and mystery paperbacks filled the overflowing shelves.
In frames on the walls were Jake’s diplomas and a graduation picture. But the photograph that caught her eye was a small snapshot in a handmade frame on a corner of the mantel. A dark-haired boy, around three years old and dressed in a blue jogging suit, a football tucked under his chubby arm, smiled back at her. His blue eyes were serious, his grin a little forced. She didn’t have to be told he was related to Jake.
Jake had stopped fiddling with the fire. Still squatting, he’d rocked back on his heels and stared up at her with an expression that could only be described as bleak. “That’s Sam,” he said gruffly. “My son.” His eyes grew distant and unreadable.
“He’s very handsome,” she said, slightly bewildered. Hadn’t Jake said he was childless?
“Thanks.”
Standing, Jake shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, and pain lingered in his eyes. “I told you I didn’t have any children, but that wasn’t the truth. I had a child for nearly three years. Sam was killed shortly after that picture was taken.” Jake’s throat worked, and he had to clear it.
Kimberly felt numb inside. To lose a child. Her heart went out to him. “Oh, Jake . . .”
He held up a palm and shook his head. “Don’t say you’re sorry, okay. I just don’t want to hear it.”
She bit her lower lip and wished there were some words of comfort, some tender endearment that she could whisper to ease his pain. Of course, there was none. “I—I didn’t know.”
He picked up the picture and held it in his palm. Staring at the photograph, he blinked rapidly. “Some things just never go away,” he said, “no matter how hard you try to forget them.”
Taking a deep breath, he turned the picture facedown on the mantel, then stood near the window, bracing one hand against the casing as he gazed outside. “It happened years ago, but it’s with me every day.”
She ached to touch him—to offer some comfort. “Is Lindsay sleeping in his room?”
He shook his head but didn’t look back at her. “No. His furniture. But not his room. I—we—lived in the city then, a big house in Dunthorpe.” Turning, he tried to smile, failed and pursed his lips. “Lydia, Sam’s mother, wasn’t happy. Thought I should be working harder to become a partner in the firm. She expected me to climb the success ladder a little more quickly than I was. Anyway, after Sam was born, she was really dissatisfied—claimed life was passing her by.” He shoved the dark thatch of hair from his eyes. “So she found someone else, another attorney in town, a man really going places. A man with expensive cars, a boat, a private plane.” His lips curled. “A man who had the right connections.”
Kimberly felt cold to the center of her soul.
Jake’s eyes narrowed, and he walked to the bar, where he poured himself a stiff shot of Scotch.
“Who?” Kimberly asked, shaking inside. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
He tossed back his drink. “Your friend and mine. Ben Kesler.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered, her fingers clenching together. Ben was more than Robert’s attorney—they were partners in some business ventures. Even Ben’s plane, which was kept in Mulino, miles out of the city, was partially owned by Robert.
The seconds ticked by as Jake stared gloomily into his glass. “Yep. She intended to take Sam, make sure I never saw him again and marry Kesler.” He glanced at Kimberly. His mouth twisted wryly. “Now, that was her side of the story, mind you. I don’t know if Kesler had any intentions of marching down the aisle with her. He was just her divorce attorney and lover at that point—but it doesn’t matter. Right after the divorce was final, Lydia and Sam were in an automobile accident. Neither survived.” He took in a long bracing breath, and Kimberly crossed the room and took his face between her hands.
“I am sorry,” she said feeling him tremble beneath her touch. “And I won’t say I know how you feel, because I don’t. I can’t imagine losing a child.”
“It’s hell,” he whispered, his eyes dark with agony. “Pure hell. I swear to you here and now, I’ll never go through it again.”
Her throat closed and she had to whisper. “The joy of having a child is worth the risk.”
He knocked her hands away and turned his back to her. “As you said, you can’t know how I feel. No one can.” He reached for the bottle of Scotch again, grabbed it by the neck, discovered it was nearly empty and, swearing under his breath, hurled it into the fire. The bottle crashed, splintering into a hundred shards, and flames roared and flared as alcohol splattered against the wood.
“Jake . . .”
He didn’t answer her, wouldn’t look her way.
“Don’t shut me out,” Kimberly whispered.
The muscles of his shoulders bunched.
Kimberly felt helpless. “Please, Jake. I care too much for you. Let me help.”
When he turned to look at her, agony was in every line of his strained features.
Suddenly she understood far more than he’d admitted. His divorce and the loss of this child had happened while he’d worked with Diane. He didn’t have to say it. Kimberly knew. Diane had helped pull him from the abyss his life had become after Sam’s death. She’d pushed him in a new direction—into corporate law—when he couldn’t stand to deal with custody or adoption or divorce cases any longer.
How difficult it must have been for Jake to take her case. Tears filled her eyes. “I’d like to help.”
His eyes held hers. “No one can bring Sam back.”
Her heart breaking, she reached for him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She settled her head against his chest and fought tears. Slowly she felt his strong, tense arms folded around her. She tilted her face to his and pressed wet, tear-stained kisses to his lips.
He groaned loudly, his tall body stretched against hers.
“Trust me, Jake,” she whispered as his lips, hot and hungry, slanted over hers again. He was everywhere. His tall frame molded hard around her, his hands moving anxiously against her skin, his mouth and tongue seeking solace in hers.
She opened up to him as a flower to the sun, hoping to ease his pain.
His hands were tangled in her hair, and he pulled them both down to the thick carpet in front of the fire. He stripped them of their clothes and lay upon her, his long, hard muscles firm against her yielding flesh. Staring into her eyes, kissing her neck, cheeks, breasts and abdomen, Jake lost control.
In front of the fire, with golden shadows playing upon their skin, Kimberly helped him forget. If only for a little while.
* * *
The next morning Jake blinked rapidly. His head pounded, and he was disoriented. Finally his blurry eyes focused on the bright room—his room. Sunlight, reflecting on the snow outside, was streaming in blinding rays through the windows. He stretched lazily and stared down at the woman sharing his bed.
Her dark, red-brown hair, was mussed, tossed around her face in a fiery cloud. Dark lashes lay against creamy-white skin, and her expression was peaceful and still, her nostrils barely moving as she breathed.
The sheet, twisted and wrinkled, covered one of her breasts. The other was bare, the dark bud of her nipple protruding beguilingly upward. Memories of wild, savage lovemaking slipped into his conscience, and he grinned wickedly. He’d spent the night purging the past in fierce union with this beautiful woman, and she’d met his wild passion with a wanton abandon that he’d never before experienced.
He twisted a lock of her hair in his fingers and wondered about her. She was kind and caring, but could turn into a seductress so intense that he still ached for more of her.
His memory ablaze with desire, he stared again at her breast—so perfect, so enticing. Unable to stop himself, he leaned over to kiss the rosy seductive point. Immediately he felt a tightening inside and a heated response in his loins.
To his delight the nipple hardened, and Kimberly moaned softly, shifting closer. He threw a leg across her, and she sighed. Still kissing her breasts, he reached under the covers, to the apex of her legs, to touch her sweet essence and delve his fingers within.
She was ready—moist and waiting, letting out soft moans as he moved his fingers inside her. He stroked the bundle of nerves on her top wall, making her hips buck against his hand.
His gut tightened, and the ache between his own legs begged for release. He nibbled her nipple again and glanced up at her face as her eyes fluttered open. Two slumberous blue-green eyes looked up at him with such erotic adoration that he nearly stopped.
She smiled, and that did him in. Sliding up the length of her, he kissed her face, laid himself atop her and buried himself deep within that warm, inviting spot that tore his soul from his body.
“Wh—what are you doing, counselor?”
“Saying ‘Good morning,’” he drawled.
“I like the way you say it . . .”
He thrust deep inside.
She tried to say something, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out.
With the flat of his hand he felt her heartbeat pound erratically, saw the shallow breathing and the rise and fall of her beautiful breasts. “You’re gorgeous,” he reminded her, taking in her flat stomach and toned legs.
Slowly he moved, so lazily that she lifted up to meet him, grabbing his buttocks in frustration, pulling him against her.
“Be patient,” he whispered, kneading her breasts and gritting back the urge to claim her as fiercely as he had only hours earlier.
While last night was lust to cure sexual abandon, a cleansing of all the pain in his past, this morning he paced himself. Giving and receiving, he watched for her response, enjoying himself as she reached peak after peak until at last she, not he, was spent. “Oh, Jake,” she sighed.
Only then did he satisfy himself, losing his self-control as he stared down into an angelic face relaxed in afterglow.
They laid together afterward, Jake holding her close. Her face was pressed to his bare chest, and the clean scent of her hair filled his nostrils.
“We failed, you know,” she finally said, glancing up at him and offering an impish smile.
“Failed? And here I thought we’d scored perfect tens last night.”
She blushed, then laughed. “I wasn’t talking about that.”
“I hope not!”
“But we didn’t manage to stay uninvolved.”
“No kidding,” he agreed. How could he ever live without her? How had he survived such a lonely past?
She looked over to the bedside clock and groaned, throwing an arm over her forehead theatrically. “I’d better get up before Lindsay comes running in here with all kinds of questions.”
Jake grinned boyishly. “You’re ashamed of me.”
“No, counselor,” she said, rolling her tongue in the corner of her cheek, “but I’m not up to explaining the situation to a curious five-year-old. However, if you’d like to fill her in on the facts of life—” she waved the fingers of one hand “—be my guest.”
“I think I’ll pass on that one.”
“I thought so.”
Stretching, he finally released her and watched as she slid out of bed, then snatched her clothes from the chair near the closet. He loved the length of her thighs, the round curve of her hips, the nip of her waist, the way her breasts swung free. Unconsciously seductive as she pulled her sweater over her head, shook her hair free and slid into her jeans, Kimberly finished dressing, and Jake finally closed his eyes so that he could resist the urge to jump out of bed, grab her and throw her back across the rumpled sheets again.
What was the matter with him? He’d been with more than his share of women in his life. But never had he felt this insatiable urge to claim one again and again. He’d gotten bored before. He knew that this woman with her quick wit and dimpled smile would always interest him. And he realized, with a shock that rocked him to his bones, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. With Robert Fisher’s ex-wife.
Groaning, he covered his face with a pillow. What had gotten into him?
He tossed off the pillow just to catch the movement of her backside as she walked out of the room.
Springing from the bed, he headed straight for the cool, healing spray of the shower. He considered calling her into the bathroom and stripping her beneath the misting rivulets of hot, running water, but discarded the idea. Though he could imagine her giggling with delight, he could also picture Lindsay waking up and walking in at just the wrong moment. Frowning, he twisted on the water.
Nope, he wasn’t ready to explain his personal sexual fantasies to an inquisitive five-year-old. He stepped into the shower and felt the needles of water against his back.
And what about Lindsay? If he wanted Kimberly, he’d end up with her daughter as well. They were a package deal. He, who’d sworn never to become a parent again, he, who would do just about anything to avoid the inevitable pain of fatherhood, was considering changing all his convictions and opening himself up to being a husband and father again.
“God dammit,” he muttered to himself, frustrated by his predicament. Maybe all these feelings would go away. When Fisher was caught and Lindsay was secure with Kimberly, Jake might have a chance to live his life the way he had before she’d shown up at his office, her black coat billowing around her, her gorgeous blue-green eyes searching his very soul.
A few minutes later, while buckling his belt, he heard the sound of footsteps padding across the oak floor of the bedroom. Glancing over his bare shoulder, he spied Lindsay staring at him curiously from the doorway.
“Good morning,” he said as she gave him the once-over.
“Mornin’.”
“You hungry?”
“Why’re we still here?”
“What?”
Her little brows drew together, and she stuck out her lower lip. “I thought we were going home last night.”
“It was too late.”
She looked as if she didn’t believe him, but she thought about it and changed the subject. “Why don’t you have a Christmas tree?” she demanded.
Jake’s jaw grew rock hard. He hadn’t put up a tree since Sam had died. The trappings and festivities associated with the holidays had seemed frivolous and pointless without Sam’s bright eyes and laughter. “I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it,” he evaded.
She tilted her little chin upward. “I’ll help.”
“Will you?” Jake grinned, charmed despite his own warnings not to get too close to this little blond imp. “Sounds like a plan to me!”
“We can do it right now. Mommy’s making breakfast.” With that, she took off down the hall, and Jake, dumbfounded, wiped the remainder of the shaving cream from his face.
Lindsay was right. Kimberly was making breakfast. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she moved around his kitchen as if she’d done it for years.
Jake crossed his arms over his chest, propping a shoulder against the wall and watched her work. Waffles browned in the waffle iron, coffee perked on the stove and sausage simmered in a frying pan. The kitchen was filled with a sense that tantalized and brought back memories he’d tried to keep in the back of his mind. As he stared at Kimberly cracking eggs into another frying pan, he remembered his wife.
There had been a time when Lydia had taken time for the family and cooked a large Sunday breakfast. But that time, when she’d loved him and wanted to deal with Sam, had been brief.
“Come on!” Lindsay cried. She’d found her coat and boots and was heading for the back door.
Kimberly smiled as she looked over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me,” she said, “you’ve been drafted into hunting down a tree.”
“I already have one,” Jake replied.
“Where?” Lindsay stared pointedly at the barren living room.
“Out here.” He opened the door to the back porch, and Lupus dashed through, startling a cat creeping under the rhododendron bushes flanking the house and giving loud chase. The cat sprinted to the nearest maple tree and scrambled upward while Lupus pawed and barked at the trunk, his tail whipping behind him, his paws sliding on the rough bark.
“He’s silly!” Lindsay proclaimed.
“Very,” Jake agreed, calling to the dog. “Lupus, here!” He slapped his leg loudly, but the shepherd wouldn’t be distracted and whined loudly. “He’ll give up,” Jake confided to Lindsay.
“When?”
Jake considered. “Probably by the spring thaw. Come on, let’s tackle that tree.”
While Kimberly finished making breakfast, Jake pulled the little potted pine tree from his back porch into the living room. He found an old string of lights with only a few burned-out bulbs and a box of ornaments, and though the decorations were a little worn, the tree did add a festive touch to the room.
Lindsay wasn’t convinced the tree would do. “You need new stuff,” she said, eyeing a broken decoration. “Lots of it. And a bigger tree.”
“Next year,” he said, swinging her off her feet. She squealed happily, then slid to the floor.
“Arlene will get you one,” Lindsay exclaimed.
“Maybe we should ask her before you go making promises,” he said, moving back to the kitchen.
“Here, you deserve this,” Kimberly said, handing him an enamel mug filled with coffee. Her eyes were the color of a tropical sea, and her lips puckered into a little grin.
He took a sip, nearly burned his tongue and asked, “So, what’s gotten into you? Why are you Ms. Domesticity?”
“Merely paying off my debt, Mr. McGowan,” she said. “Remember? This is the weekend I work for you. After that, it’s all over.”
Jake grinned wickedly. “In that case I’ll have to see that you don’t waste a second.”
She laughed. “Go ahead. I’m sure I can handle anything you dish out.”
His eyes sparkled. “We’ll see about that.”
“I hate to admit it, but I’m not worried in the least bit,” she said, plucking a long pine needle from his freshly washed hair. “You and Lindsay better sit and eat before breakfast gets cold. Oh—and by the way—while you were in the shower—”
“Yes.” He took a swallow from his cup.
“The phone rang and I answered it. Some man—Koski, I think his name was—wants you to call him back.”
Jake’s muscles tensed. “Ron Koski?”
“That was it,” she said, nodding. “He seemed rather insistent. Said he might be taking off for a few days. I left the message on your desk.”
Jake glanced at his phone. His fingers tightened over the handle of the cup. “I’ll call him later,” he said, hoping his expression didn’t give him away. For the time being, he didn’t want Kimberly to know about Ron or the investigation, if there was one, on Robert. He wasn’t yet ready to explain completely about Daniel, though he felt guilty that he hadn’t placed all his cards on the table.
In time, he told himself as he slid into a chair and watched her take a seat across from him, when things have settled down. Then we’ll destroy all the ghosts from the past and concentrate on the future.
* * *
The weekend flew by. Kimberly spent every second with Jake and, true to her word, mended a couple of his shirts, organized his kitchen, did two loads of laundry and even dusted and vacuumed his house.
He protested vehemently, but she didn’t slack off, and in the end he contented himself by helping out and amusing Lindsay.
* * *
Kimberly couldn’t remember when she’d been happier, and that worried her as she walked into the offices of First Cascade on Monday morning. Christmas music murmured through the speakers, and the lobby of the bank was decorated for the holidays with strings of lights. Red and green letters spelling out Happy Holidays hung over the teller windows.
In the trust department, Marcie was already busy at her computer. She looked up and smiled at Kimberly, but her fingers never left the keyboard.
Kimberly hung up her coat, then walked back through the reception area to the cafeteria, where she poured herself a cup of hot water and dumped a teabag into it. Several women from the mortgage banking department were clustered around a couple of Formica-topped tables. They drank coffee and nibbled on doughnuts as they talked and laughed before they had to head downstairs.
Kimberly spoke to Kelly and Annie, women she’d worked with in the mortgage department, then turned to head back to her office. She didn’t get far. Bill Zealander, his face flushed, marched stiffly into the room. “I need to talk to you,” he announced.
Kimberly refused to be cowed. “So talk.”
He glanced at the women gossiping at the roundtable. “Not here.”
“Why not?”
His lips compressed, and behind his glasses his eyes slitted. “Because this is private. Okay?”
“Fine, Bill.” Kimberly wasn’t in the mood to argue. She left her teacup, followed Bill out of the cafeteria, explained where she’d be to Marcie, then strode through the door of Bill’s office. “Okay, what’s up?” she asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She didn’t like his high-handed attitude, and she didn’t bother sitting down. Instead she crossed her arms impatiently and waited for the storm that was sure to hit.
Bill stood on the other side of the desk, his back to a bank of windows as he fiddled with the knot of his tie. “I want to know what’s going on with the Juniper trust.”
“I thought you said this was personal.”
“It is.” He slid her a glance that was meant to cut her to the quick. It didn’t. “You and I both know that you’re mishandling the account.”
“I’m what?” she demanded, floored.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Kimberly, admit it. You can’t even handle the heirs. Every other day Henry Juniper’s crying on your shoulder. And from what I understand, Carole is planning to contest the will. You’ve had to ask for extra help from operations to make sure all the dividends were paid. And you can barely keep your mind on business.”
“What’re you talking about?”
He yanked off his glasses and polished them with a tissue. “The custody hearing for your daughter.”
Kimberly crossed the room and leaned over his desk. “What do you know about that?”
He gestured with the hand holding his wire-rimmed glasses. “It’s common knowledge, Kim. Robert Fisher’s a biggie around here. And it’s no secret that you’ve hired some has-been attorney with a vendetta to get to Fisher. If you ask me, you’re playing with fire.”
“No one’s asking you anything,” she said, stung. It took all of her strength to stay calm. “And what I do with my personal life is none of your business.”
“I know. But you’re obviously under strain. You’ve got more important things to think about than business.”
“You’re way out of line, Bill,” she said. He shrugged and polished the lenses of his glasses again. Seeing him in a dark suit, in relief against the windows, set off a memory of another tall man—a man dressed in dark blue, a man polishing his goggles after night skiing. She didn’t move, couldn’t believe that her mind was leaping to such conclusions. And yet.... Her mouth went dry.
“Now, look, I’m just trying to help you out,” he was saying. He smiled benignly and slipped the glasses onto his nose. “I could handle the Juniper trust, get Henry and Carole working together rather than at cross-purposes, at least for a while, until you get your personal life back on track.”
“My life is on track.”
“Get real, Kim.”
“Do you ski, Bill?” she asked suddenly, deciding she’d had enough of his arrogant insinuations.
“Do I what?” he asked, taken aback.
“Ski.”
“Yes, but what—” he stopped suddenly, and a red flush climbed steadily up his neck.
She couldn’t believe his reaction. “Have you been following me?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I don’t think so.” So furious she was shaking, she said, “I’ve just had this feeling lately that someone was watching me. And I thought I saw you up on the mountain night skiing.”
He laughed nervously and reached into his suit pocket for a piece of nicotine gum. “Now you’ve really gone off the deep end.”
“Have I?”
“Kimberly—”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, Bill, but I don’t like it. Stay the hell out of my life.” Spinning on her heel, she strode straight into her office and resisted the urge to slam the door.
Her temples throbbed. Taking deep breaths, she tried to think straight. Had Bill Zealander, in his efforts to further himself, actually taken to following her? But why? And what were all those cracks about Robert being an important client at the bank? She felt a cold lump settle in her heart. Did Zealander’s spying have something to do with the custody hearing? “Oh, God,” she whispered prayerfully.
Her headache pounded behind her eyes.
She thought about talking to Eric Compton, but discarded the idea. Compton hated office in-fighting and petty jealousy, and she didn’t blame him. Besides, she had no proof. No, she’d keep this to herself. At least until she saw Jake again.
Bill Zealander had known she’d hired an attorney—presumably Jake. So, why the remark about a has-been lawyer with a vendetta?
She went back to the cafeteria, found her now-tepid cup of tea and reheated it. Then she stormed back to her office, located a small bottle of aspirin in her purse and swallowed two of the bitter tablets.
“Forget about Zealander,” she told herself as she clicked open her briefcase and pulled out several thick files. She didn’t have time to deal with penny-ante personality problems.
The intercom buzzed and Marcie announced that Henry Juniper was on line one. Kimberly smiled, grateful for once for the distraction. Things were back to normal.
* * *
Jake finally connected with Ron Koski Monday afternoon. He stopped by Ron’s office, a small three-room suite tucked between a maid service and a travel agency in Oregon City.
Ron’s furniture consisted of a desk, two chairs, a small table and a credenza. A plate-glass window offered a view of Willamette Falls, a railroad crossing and smokestacks from a nearby paper mill. White clouds of steam rose over the city, melding with the gray sky.
Ron, in need of a shave, looked up when Jake strode in. “About time you showed up.” Seated at his desk, his blond crew cut on the longish side, he offered Jake his hand.
“I’ve called you three times since yesterday.” Jake clasped Ron’s hand and shook it firmly. They’d been friends since high school. And Ron was one of two people Jake trusted with his life. Diane Welby was the other. And now, of course, there was Kimberly Bennett.
Ron waved him into one of the side chairs. “I’ve been on a stakeout. But I thought you’d want to know that the police are definitely on to Fisher.” He reached behind him, found a thermos of coffee and poured two cups.
Jake took the cup he was offered and dropped into a chair near the desk. “The police have been on to him before.”
“I know, and there’s always the chance he’ll get away.” Ron shrugged. “But the D.A. won’t go for anything less than an open-and-shut case. He can’t afford to go after Fisher without anything else. Too much public embarrassment.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’ve got my sources.” Ron grinned and suddenly slammed his hand down on the desk. “Sorry, I hate spiders,” he said, grabbing a tissue and cleaning up the remnants of the bug, tossing it into the trash.
“Brecken? Is he talking again?” Jake took a sip of coffee. Bitter and hot, it burned all the way down his throat.
“Nope, Brecken’s been tightlipped, but trust me, this source is good.”
“When will it go down?”
“Don’t know.”
Jake was worried. The timing and the set-up were all wrong. “Why hasn’t Fisher gotten wind of it?”
Ron frowned. “Maybe he has.”
“Will he run?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. He’s got a lot of ties here in Portland—it would be hard to pull up stakes.”
That it would, Jake thought gloomily. Especially if Fisher intended to hang around long enough to fight Kimberly in court. Unless, of course, Fisher took the law into his own hands.
Cold certainty settled in the small of his back. Of course Fisher would run. His gut twisted, and it took all his self-control not to run out of the office, grab Kimberly and Lindsay and hide them somewhere safe. Robert Fisher was running scared and if he really wanted his daughter with him, he’d just take her. “Give me all the details,” he said to Ron, his voice short.
“I don’t have many.”
“What?”
“My source gave me a little information, but she didn’t blow the whole operation.”
“She?”
Ron smiled slyly. “Okay . . . this is what I know. . . .”
* * *
The last person Kimberly expected to run into on her way out of the bank that night was Robert. But there he was, big as life, surrounded by bank bigwigs again. And Bill Zealander within the group.
Dread crept up her spine.
She hadn’t seen Robert in the offices of First Cascade for a while, and now he seemed to be there every other day. He saw her approach, but didn’t bother to smile. In fact his face seemed strained, his lips a little white, and his eyes were so cold she actually shivered.
Robert and entourage disappeared into the elevator. Marcie was wrapping a wool scarf around her neck and had already slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Wait,” Kimberly called as the elevator doors closed.
“Sorry, boss, I’m outta here,” Marcie teased.
“No, I don’t need anything, just some information.”
Marcie grinned. “You’ve got five minutes. I’m meeting Glen downstairs.”
“Do you know what’s going on with Bill and Robert Fisher?”
Marcie, who always had an ear open to office gossip, shrugged and swept her bangs under the red scarf. “Nothing specific, but I do know that Bill’s been busy lately. A lot of closed-door meetings.”
“With Robert?”
Marcie nodded. “Once in a while.”
Kimberly gulped and tried not to panic.
“As for Fisher, I think he’s moving some money around.”
“Within the bank?”
“I guess. Or maybe he’s transferring it to another branch or something.” She pulled out her compact and checked her makeup, then brushed a fleck of mascara from her cheek.
Kimberly’s mouth went dry. Something was going on. Something big. “How do you know this?”
Marcie grinned. “From Heather. She knows everything.”
And Heather was Bill Zealander’s secretary. Images flashed through Kimberly’s mind, pictures of Bill trotting after Robert when he was in the bank, a lone skier watching her with Jake, a man lingering near the lamppost across her street.
“Is something wrong?” Marcie asked, staring at her as she clicked her compact shut and stuffed it back into her purse.
Kimberly forced a tight smile. “I don’t know. But thanks.”
“Any time. And I’ll check with Heather, see if she knows anything else.” She waved as she walked to the elevators.
Kimberly picked up the phone on Marcie’s desk. With quaking fingers, she dialed her home. The phone rang three times before Lindsay’s voice called, “Hello?”
Kimberly’s knees went weak. She sank against the desk. “Oh, hi, honey, how’re you? Was school okay today?”
“It was crummy. Bobby Hendricks kicked me. I got him back, though. I pinched him in the neck!” Lindsay launched into a blow-by-blow account of her day at school while Kimberly battled against sudden tears.
“Well, you certainly had an interesting day,” Kimberly said before Arlene took over the phone and assured her that nothing was out of the ordinary and she was, as usual, watching Lindsay like a hawk.
“Now, don’t you change your plans,” Arlene admonished. “You go along and do some shopping before you come home.”
Christmas shopping! She’d forgotten all about it. “I think I’d better come straight home.”
“Hogwash! Lindsay and I are knee-deep in a project here, anyway. We’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“All right, just be careful,” Kimberly replied.
“I always am.”
After hanging up, she took the elevator downstairs to the lobby and walked out the main doors of the bank. The Santas on every street corner rang bells, shoppers trooped along the ice-glazed streets and store windows glowed with elegant Christmas displays.
The night air was crisp and cold, and Kimberly determined that for the next few hours she’d get lost in the dizzying, light-hearted spirit of Christmas shopping and leave her worries behind.
She glanced over her shoulder twice, just to make sure no one was following her, then she ducked into a department store and headed straight for the toy department.
Tonight she’d find the perfect gift for Lindsay and maybe something special for Jake, as well.
Jake. Thank God he was on her side.