Orchid (17 page)

He studied her gleaming eyes and tangled his fingers in her hair. “At this particular moment, I wouldn't mind if you asked me to fly or go over a waterfall in a barrel.”

“In a good mood, are you?”

“Very.”

She folded her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her hand. “This is sort of a professional question.”

“Go for it.”

“Is it true that strat-talents can tell if a person is lying to them?”

He stilled. And then he started to laugh. He laughed so hard he had to sit up and wrap his arms around his midsection. He doubled over with laughter. He howled with laughter. The room rang with the sound of it.

“I didn't think the question was that funny,” Orchid said.

Rafe's laughter finally faded into a grin. He sprawled on his back and pulled Orchid down on top of him.

“Let me put it this way.” He thrust his fingers through her hair. “I'll know if you ever try to fake an orgasm.”

Chapter
9
 

She did not dream.

Or, to be more specific, Orchid thought, when she awoke alone in the massive round bed, she did not dream of being stalked by a psychic vampire, even though some would say she had gone to bed with one.

She felt remarkably refreshed, given her energetic activities during the night. High overhead morning light blazed through the glass domed ceiling. It poured over the bed like warm honey-syrup and puddled around her in a delicious pool.

No nightmares last night. Not one.

The extent of her euphoria told her more clearly than anything else could just how much she had come to dread the stalking dream. For the first time she realized how it had nibbled away at the edges of her nerves during the past few days.

She wondered if great sex always had such a revitalizing affect. The only way to test the hypothesis would be to do it again, she thought. Soon.

She did not know why she had waited until last night
to lose her virginity. Heaven knew that in her wild and reckless teenage years she'd done her share of climbing into backseats with the handful of young men who had the courage to date the daughter of one of Northville's most important academics. Her curiosity had been as strong as that of any other healthy adolescent.

But, perhaps owing to the fact that Northville suffered a serious shortage of interesting “bad boys” or because she was, at heart, a romantic bent on waiting for Mr. Right, she had never gone all the way.

By the time she had left Northville for the city, she was twenty years old and no longer quite so wild or reckless. She'd had goals and plans and none of the men she had met fit into them. She had male friends, but she did not have many boyfriends. None of the few men who had come into her life in the past few years had been Mr. Right.

Rafe might not be Mr. Right, she told herself, but he certainly was Mr. Exciting.

She wiggled her toes beneath the turquoise blue sheet and listened to the sounds of Rafe in the shower. The sounds of her lover, she corrected herself.

Who was registered at a marriage agency because he was desperately seeking a bride for family reasons.

That thought brought her exuberance down several notches. She sat up, pushed aside the blue-green sheets, and rose from the giant circular bed.

Halfway to the door of the bathroom she paused, turned, and glanced back over her shoulder at the rumpled bed. The old Later Expansion period piece had not been fashioned for frivolous sexual encounters, she thought. It had the weighty, portentous look of a bed that had been designed for founding dynasties. If she tried, she could almost make herself feel a little guilty for having such a good time in it last night.

Almost.

* * *

Half an hour later, showered and dressed in her jeans and T-shirt, she ran Rafe's comb through her damp hair and headed downstairs.

At the top of the elaborately carved staircase she paused, remembering how Rafe had carried her up the steps in his arms. A little thrill of pleasure shot through her.

Definitely Mr. Exciting.

The enticing aroma of freshly brewed coff-tea drew her down a hall to a small glass-walled sunroom that overlooked the garden. Rafe was seated at the table near the floor-to-ceiling windows. He had the morning edition of the
New Seattle Times
spread out in front of him.

He looked up when she walked into the room. His mouth curved with lazy satisfaction when he saw her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi.” Brilliant conversation opener, she thought. Never let it be said that she, Orchid Adams, author of psychic vampire romance novels, did not know how to greet a lover first thing in the morning.

She suppressed the crazy little thrill of happiness mixed with trepidation she felt and made herself walk very casually to the table. When she got there, she was not quite certain what to do next.

What was the socially correct thing, she wondered, a little frantically. Should she just act really cool and help herself to the coff-tea? Give Rafe a brisk little peck on the cheek as if they had been lovers for ages? Make some jaunty remark about his being an early riser for a man who claimed to be a night person?

The heroines in her novels never had these problems she thought.

Rafe came to her rescue. He held out one hand. When she took it, he pulled her close against his side and urged her down for a kiss.

“You taste good,” he said when she raised her head.

“I used your toothpaste,” she blurted.
Cool, very cool, Orchid.
“But not your toothbrush. Honest. I just used
my fingers.” Great. She'd moved from sounding gauche to sounding like a blithering idiot.

“You can use my toothbrush anytime you want,” he said very seriously.

She could not tell if he was teasing her so she decided to change the subject. She glanced down at the newspaper for inspiration and saw that he had been reading an article in the business section. The headline made her blink.

Reports of Pending Changes at Stonebraker Persist

She frowned and bent her head to read the rest of the article.

Rumors that Alfred G. Stonebraker, longtime president and C.E.O. of Stonebraker Shipping, will soon step down continue to circulate in business circles. If true, they raise troubling questions about the future of the company. Hit hard by last year's brief economic downturn, the firm compounded its problems by failing to adjust to the recent technological shifts in the shipping industry.

It is no secret that Stonebraker's Board of Directors is sharply divided on several issues. The strongest faction, led by A.G. Stonebraker's nephew and probable heir apparent, Selby Culverthorpe, is said to favor a merger with Tri-Mark Consolidated. Such a move, while potentially favorable to Stonebraker shareholders in the short term, would no doubt result in the ultimate demise of the company as an independent entity.

“How sad,” Orchid said without thinking.

Rafe's brows rose Quizzically. “Why do you say that?”

“Misplaced sentimentality, I suppose.” She sat down and reached for the coff-tea pot. “It's none of my business. I don't have any shares in Stonebraker. And I realize that you're not involved in your family's company. But won't you find it a little depressing to stand by and watch it get swallowed up by a competitor?”

His eyes met hers with riveting intensity. “Yes.”

She reached for a slice of toast. “Do you ever regret that you didn't follow in your grandfather's footsteps?”

“You seem to know a lot about my family history.”

She shrugged and took a bite of the toast. “Clementine filled me in on some of the background. She said rumor has it that years ago there was a big rift between you and your grandfather.”

“Ms. Malone is right. My grandfather wanted me to join the company. It was impossible.”

“Of course. You could never work for anyone else. You would have to be the boss, regardless of what you did.”

Rafe regarded her with an enigmatic expression. “You sound very sure of that.”

“It's obvious. Probably goes with being a strat-talent.” She chewed reflectively on her bite of toast. “Or maybe it just goes with being you. Did you and your grandfather ever repair the rift?”

“We've talked,” Rafe said deliberately.

Orchid smiled. “That's great. I take it he's mellowed over the years?”

“You've obviously never met my grandfather.
Mellow
is not a word that could ever be applied to him.”

“I see. Did he ever forgive you for failing to join the family firm?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “He must be terribly upset about the possibility that Stonebraker might get bought out by Tri-Mark.”

“He's not happy about it.”

“Does he blame you for the fact that the company is in trouble now?” she asked gently.

“Yes. Says if I'd taken over five years ago, when he originally planned to retire, Stonebraker wouldn't be having the kind of problems it's having today. He's right.”

She sighed. “Only to be expected he'd try to put a guilt trip on you, I suppose. It's one of the things families do best.”

“I know.”

“Still, a family rift is always unfortunate. Is there anything you can do to mend the breach with your grandfather?”

“Sure.” Rafe folded his arms on top of the newspaper and regarded her with gleaming eyes. “I could get myself appointed C.E.O. of Stonebraker, stop cousin Selby's attempt to take control of the company, force the board of directors to get in line, modernize the firm's way of doing business, and renegotiate contracts with our subcontractors and suppliers.”

Orchid stared at him, stunned. She slowly lowered her half-eaten slice of toast. “Good lord, that's exactly what you're going to do, isn't it?”

“Yes.” He picked up his mug of coff-tea. “That's what I'm going to do.”

She swallowed a bite of toast. “Mind if I ask why?”

Rafe hesitated. “The company's been in the family for four generations. It supports a couple of thousand people, including most of the members of the Stonebraker clan. If cousin Selby has his way, a lot of good, hardworking people, not just my relatives, are going to lose their jobs. It's always that way in a merger.”

“So it's your sense of responsibility to the family that's motivating you to save the company?”

“There are other reasons.” Rafe looked out into the garden. “Stonebraker has made some real contributions in the past. Until a few years ago, it was an innovative leader in developing new technology in the shipping and
transportation fields. It's spawned any number of smaller businesses.”

She smiled at the pride that underscored his words. It was not just a sense of family responsibility that drove him. Rafe had a strong sense of commitment to the community, too, although he would probably be reluctant to admit it.

“There's one other reason why I'm going to save Stonebraker,” he added.

“What's that?” Orchid asked.

“Cousin Selby is a two-faced, conniving little twerp whose only goal is to get rich by dismembering Stonebraker. He wants revenge on the whole Stonebraker family. Damned if I'll let the little weasel-snake get away with it.”

“Why on St. Helens does he want to bring down the whole family and the company, too?”

Rafe raised one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “It's a long story. The bottom line is that he resents the fact that the real power in the firm has always been in the hands of those who descended through my branch of the family tree.”

“I see.”

“It would be one thing if Selby wanted to take control of the company in order to save it. But his only goal is to destroy it.” Rafe's hand flexed around the mug. “I won't let that happen.”

“I understand.” The crisis had aroused all of Rafe's protective instincts, she realized. He would do whatever it took to save the company and defend those who were dependent on it. Nothing would be allowed to get in his way.

“There's just one little problem,” Rafe said slowly.

“Only one?”

He gave her a level look. “The Stonebraker board of directors is very conservative. There's no way I can pull off my plans unless I convince them that I intend to
marry and settle down. I need to look like a good, responsible family man in their eyes.”

The toast point got lodged in Orchid's throat. She swallowed heavily to force it on down. “That's why you need a wife.”

“Yes.”

With a monumental effort of will, she managed what she hoped was a bright smile. “Good luck.”

“So far I'm not having any.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She cast about desperately for a change of topic. “I guess the question now, is, what happens next?”

“Yes.”

“Well? You're the expert,” she said.

“Me?”

She raised her eyes briefly to the ceiling. “Good thing your clients can't see you with that blank look on your face. They'd think twice about hiring you. Fortunately, I know that deep down you're a really sharp guy or I'd be having a few doubts myself.”