Nathan's Vow (9 page)

Gazing into Nathan's still-hungry
eyes, she said, "I can't stay tonight.  I can't let this go any
further."

Chapter
Five

Nathan hadn't been thinking when he
reached for Gillian, he'd been feeling.  Gillian was the one who operated on
intuition and visions.  He was the realist who operated on facts and concrete
information.  He dealt with problems as they occurred, and this situation was
no exception.

So he laid the facts on the table. 
"There's a strong attraction between us."

Her voice was soft, almost a
whisper.  "I know.  I'm afraid it's keeping me from finding Maddie and
Dana."

"That doesn't make
sense."

"Maybe not to you.  But it
stirs up...energy...whatever...and I can't read signals that might be perfectly
clear with someone else."

"Has this happened to you
before?"

She hesitated.  "An attraction
has never kept me from doing my work or finding someone."

He turned away and rubbed the back
of his neck.  The urge to draw Gillian into his arms again was so strong it was
a physical ache.  But he had to ignore it.  He had to forget about his wants
and needs and put the welfare of his daughters first.  "What can we do so
this...chemistry doesn't interfere?"

"Some distance might
help."

Facing her, he asked, "As in
miles?  Maybe if I fly to New York, you'll be able to think straight?"

Her brown eyes showed her hurt, and
Nathan felt like a heel.  "I'm sorry.  But I'm not sure what you
mean."

"It would be better if we're
not in the house together."  She gestured to the papers on the flagstone. 
"I can take those with me.  I'm working twelve to nine tomorrow.  I can
come over in the morning while you're at work."

The idea of her leaving didn't sit
well with him.  When he thought about why, the reason was obvious.  She could
do her best work here, in the midst of Dana and Maddie's things.  "There's
an alternative.  You stay the night, a few days, or however long it takes.  I
can sleep at Linc's."

"Nathan..."

"I drive over and stay now and
then anyway.  It makes Linc feel better about long business trips.  He does the
same for me."

"You're sure you don't
mind?"

"What I mind is not knowing
where my daughters are.  I'd sleep out on the beach if I thought it would
help."

"Nathan, there's no
guarantee--"

"I know.  But if we can
increase the odds of information surfacing, that's what's important."

When he found his daughters, life
would get back to normal.  His attraction to Gillian would be a fleeting
memory.  Maddie and Dana and his work were all he needed to make his life
meaningful.  His conclusion made sense, but it didn't quite ring true.  He
ignored the niggling doubt that he was leaving something out.

#

On Thursday afternoon, Gillian was
sitting in Nathan's kitchen drinking a glass of water when she heard his front
door open.  She knew it was him.  She hadn't seen him since Sunday, but his
absence while she sat in Dana and Maddie's room hadn't helped.  Nothing more
had surfaced.  This thing with Nathan was a screen, keeping signals from coming
through.

"I'm in here," she
called, wondering what he was doing home in mid-afternoon.

When he entered the kitchen, his
tie hung loose around his neck and he looked tired.  "I thought I'd quit
early today."  He paused, then admitted, "The truth is I'm having
trouble concentrating.  I haven't heard from you.  I didn't know if you were
still coming over or had given up."

"I would have told you if I'd
given up."

His gaze searched her face, looking
for answers, looking for some sign of hope.  "Let me shower and change and
we'll talk.  Okay?"

She had a feeling they were going
to talk about more than the girls.  "Okay."

"I'm having my secretary reroute
important calls here until five-thirty.  If the phone rings while I'm in the
shower, will you get it?"

She nodded.

As she heard Nathan climb the
stairs, she suddenly wished the glass of water were something much stronger. 
That was strange.  She didn't drink.  Alcohol made her heart race.  As she
heard the floor overhead creak, she could imagine Nathan stripping off his
clothes.  She took a gulp of water.  A few moments later, she heard water
running through the pipes.  She could see his shoulders, his bare chest...

The telephone rang, startling her. 
She jumped up and snatched it off its cradle.  "Hello?"

"This is Troy Johnson.  Nathan
Bradley' secretary gave me this number.  I need to speak with him
immediately."

"Uh...he's in the
shower."

"I don't care if he's on the
moon!  I need to talk with him now."

In her mind's eye, Gillian could
see a parking lot, an empty parking lot.  A man in a janitor's uniform stood on
a ladder by the marquis over the building.  He was lifting down the marquis.  S
& B Plastics.

"Miss, are you there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here.  Hold on
a minute."

She ran up the stairs and paused
outside the door to Nathan's room.  It was open.  Going inside, she heard
sounds from the bathroom.  She knocked softly on the door.  It opened.

Nathan had a towel wrapped around
his hips, casually tucked at the waist.  Lower than the waist.  It covered more
than his bathing suit, but his wet hair, the drops of water still dewed on his
shoulders made her catch her breath.

"Gillian?"

She pulled herself together. 
"The phone.  Troy Johnson."

He looked puzzled.  "I'll get
it up here.  Go ahead and hang up when you get downstairs."

A few minutes later, Nathan hurried
down the steps.  Dressed in a crisp white oxford shirt and dress slacks, he
asked Gillian, "Will you stay until I get back?  Or do you have to be at
work?"

"I can stay.  I had a short
shift today.  I work ten hours tomorrow."

He lifted his suit coat from the
back of the sofa.  "I don't know how long this will take.  I hope it's a
false alarm."

"Problems?" 

"We'll see."

Nathan's professional guard was in
place.  She imagined he'd be tough in business dealings.  But she had the
feeling he was going to lose at least one client, maybe two.  The businesses
involved in that merger he'd told her about? Should she tell him?

On his way to the door, Nathan
called back, "I'll pick up something for supper on my way back."

He left before she could put the
intangible into words.

#

Gillian was sitting in the girls'
bedroom, paging through Dana's books when Nathan returned.  He came into the
room, looking beat.

"Tough meeting?"

"Tough doesn't begin to
describe it.  The Sheffield-Babbock merger fell through.  Sheffield backed out
and won't say why.  I tried to convince him he still needs IT security even
without the merger, but he's just shut down and doesn't want to think about it
now.  I can't understand what happened."

"Neither does Babbock,"
she said as she felt it.

"Excuse me?"  Nathan was
looking at her with a strange expression on his face.

"It's just something I
sensed."

His blue eyes became suspicious. 
"Just when did you sense this?"

"Now."

"Why do I get the feeling
there's more?"

"When Troy Johnson called, I
could see someone taking down a sign for S & B Plastics."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"There was nothing to tell.  I
didn't know what it meant."

"It meant the companies were
going to start doing business together next week, merging their client files
and finances, and then for some unearthly reason that you might know, Sheffield changed his mind."

"I don't know."

"And I'm supposed to believe
you?"

"Sometimes the pictures I see
are vague and I interpret them incorrectly.  That's why I didn't say
anything."

Suspicions still lingered in
Nathan's narrowed eyes.  He was looking at her as if he didn't know her, as if
she'd done something terribly wrong.

"Nathan..."

The phone interrupted.  She waited
to see if he'd let his answering machine take the call, but he said, "I'd
better get it. It could have something to do with Sheffield."

He waited for a moment as if she
could confirm or deny.  She could do neither.  When he left the room, she felt
empty and alone.  They weren't unusual feelings.  Her gift often caused her to
feel them.

Nathan returned to the room, his
face grim.  His carefully controlled voice held an angry edge.  "That was
Jake.  Leona and a French businessman named Jean Watteau were spotted at Orly a few days ago.  Watteau flew to Hong Kong.  There's no record of Leona taking a
flight out.  When Jake's contact tried to question Watteau, the man denied any
knowledge of Leona Carrero."  Nathan paced across the room.  "If we
don't find them soon, she could move Maddie and Dana out of France."

"Can you put a tail on
Watteau?"

"Sure.  And follow him all
over the globe.  Dammit, Gillian, why aren't we getting anywhere?"

"You mean why can't I get
anywhere."

"Are you sure you're telling
me everything you know?"

"I've told you everything
that's come up about Maddie and Dana."

"The way you told me about the
sign?  How can I be sure?"

His doubts hurt, but nothing she
could say would take them away.  "You can't unless you trust me."

"I told you before, I don't
trust anyone."

"Maybe that's the
problem."

"No, the problem is putting my
hopes in the likes of someone like you."  He swore.  "I must have
been crazy expecting some kind of universal inspiration to intervene."

"You regret contacting
me."

"Yes.  Yes, I do."

She couldn't help him if he didn't
want her help.  And even if he did, she wasn't sure she could make a
difference.  "Then you'd better stick with Jake Donovan.  He works with
the concrete.  I don't.  I'm sorry I couldn't help you, Nathan.  I certainly
wanted to."

She took her purse from the top of
the dresser and her duffel bag from beside it.  "I'll show myself out.  I
hope you find your daughters.  For their sake and yours."

When she passed him to go out the
door, he didn't move a muscle.  His blue eyes were as cold as ice.  She was
making the right decision.  Now all she had to do was forget Nathan Bradley and
Dana and Maddie.

That was all.

#

Nathan confirmed final arrangements
with the caterer for Sunday evening and hung up the phone.  He wasn't in the
mood for a party, even though it was business oriented.  But it had to be
done.  Pushing his chair away from his desk, Nathan stood and stared out the
window of his seventh floor office.  What should he do about Gillian?  His
blow-up had been a mistake and not altogether directed at her.  Weeks of
planning work had gone down the drain with Sheffield and Babbcock.  And then
when Gillian didn't tell him...what?  That she'd seen someone taking down a
sign?  What good would that have done him except maybe prepared him for the
session to come.

He glanced at the phone.  Trust. 
It seemed to be a simple word.  But it wasn't.  His father's abandonment, his
mother's death, had left him with no one to count on.  So he'd convinced
himself he could rely on only himself.  Then he'd met Leona...and Arthur.

Naively, Nathan had trusted Arthur
to eventually accept him into the family.  He never had.  And maybe Nathan had
sensed Arthur's attitude in his daughter because Nathan had never really shared
his feelings and needs with Leona.  He'd never told her how much he'd wanted
Arthur's approval.  He'd never told her about his fears, only about his
ambition.  But he'd guessed that was all she'd wanted to hear.

He had trusted Leona with their
daughters.  Look where that had gotten him.  Wasn't that enough reason to think
Gillian might keep something from him?  Except, why would she?  Gillian wasn't
Leona.  He and Gillian were on the same side.

He might as well admit it--he still
needed her.  She wasn't a fraud simply because she couldn't give him what he
wanted, when he wanted it.  In fact, she was a strong woman who'd stood up to
him in her quiet way.  Leona had never done that.  His ex-wife would sullenly
withdraw when they had a disagreement.  She never confronted him head-on. 
Gillian did.

There was only one thing to do. 
Invite her to a party.

#

Purposely, Gillian arrived at
Nathan's house a half hour later than he told her.  She'd wanted to make sure
she wasn't alone with him.  From the number of cars parked in the driveway and
along the edge of the property, she needn't have worried.

His call had been unexpected, even
though her instincts had told her she and Nathan weren't finished yet.  He'd
said he was throwing a party.  Her first inclination had been to refuse.  But
the slight uncertainty in his voice as he'd asked her had made her realize they
needed to talk one last time, even if she wasn't going to continue helping him.

He'd told her to dress casually. 
She hoped her sleeveless black jumpsuit qualified.  When she rang the doorbell,
a maid let her inside.  Gillian stood at the edge of the living room, trying to
get her bearings.

At least twenty people milled about
the living room and dining room.  Gillian could see others clustered on the
patio.  She didn't spot Nathan anywhere.  Crossing to the bar set up in a
corner, she asked for orange juice.  The waiter supplied it with a smile.

Restless, not sure if she should
stay, she went out on the patio.  Two men in dress slacks and polo shirts stood
by the pool.  She overheard the gray-haired man say, "I heard Bradley lost
some of his usual composure with Sheffield."

The man standing beside him
responded, "None of Bradley's arguments did any good.  The old guy clammed
up and simply said he was out of the deal.  But Nathan won't give up.  He never
does.  He'll get to the bottom of it.  He'll get Sheffield and Babbock to sign
with him separately if not together."