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“You’ve found Bobby Slade?”
“I’ve found a whole mess of ’em. Robert E. Lee Slade seems to be a family name or somethin’. It hasn’t been easy, but I got the list narrowed down to a few prime candidates.”
“Just be sure you end up with the right one.”
“Piece of cake. Oh, by the way, thought you might like to know that your girl Adria’s been busy.”
Jason’s fingers tightened over the receiver. “Has she?”
“Yep. I found out from an insider in the Polidori house that she’s big news over there. The old man thinks he can use her if she is London because, as you probably already know, he’s interested in buying out big chunks of Danvers International.”
“Go on,” Jason said through clenched teeth.
“Well, that’s about it. Except that the younger Polidori seems to be very interested in her.”
“Mario?”
“Mmm, could be messy, don’t you think? Your sister’s still seeing him.”
“I know,” Jason ground out. Trisha would never learn.
“Fun family you got there, Danvers. I’ll call you when I have more.”
Click.
“Wait!” Jason said, hating to be dismissed by the slimy detective. Sweeny’s information usually was good and if he’d managed to make an informant out of one of the servants in the Polidori house, then Jason felt as if his money had been well spent. But he wanted to know more. Lots more.
The noose around his neck tightened a notch.
Glancing at his watch, he frowned and yanked his briefcase from the top of the desk. In the reception area, Frances was talking on the phone. He headed to the elevators, but she flagged him down. “It’s Guy in Security,” she said, hanging up. “Seems we’ve got a siege of reporters downstairs wanting to talk to you or someone in the Danvers family. And these”—she held up a small pile of messages—“are all from reporters and columnists from all over the country. They want to talk to you about London.” She raised her eyebrows over the tinted lenses of her glasses. “Do we have a new one again?”
“Yes, and a very convincing one,” Jason said, unable to hide his irritation.
“Oh, dear.” Her small lips pursed in her fleshy face. Frances Boothe would lay down her life for Danvers International. “Well, Guy said you might want to avoid the lobby.”
“I am,” he said, flashing her a not-to-worry smile. “They won’t expect me to be going off the roof. Anything else?”
“Miss Monticello called twice. Wanted you to call back.”
Jason’s fingers clenched over the handle of his briefcase at the mention of Kim. She could stew for a while; it wouldn’t hurt her to wait for him. Now that Adria had gone to the press, Kim held nothing over his head—except his affair. Frowning to himself, he dashed down the hall with two vice presidents. They were both talking to him at once, two yes-men who cared more about Danvers International than they did their own families. He managed to respond automatically as they rode the elevator to the helicopter pad on the roof.
The chopper was waiting and Jason was grateful for the roar of the whirring blades that drowned out conversation for the next few minutes. As the helicopter lifted off and he looked down at the city he felt a premonition of doom. At one time he’d been certain he would be the crown prince of Portland. Now, because of Adria Nash, he wasn’t so sure.
It was time to show Ms. Nash what she was up against. Really up against.
Zach glanced at Adria. She was huddled in the far corner of his Jeep, staring at the middle distance through the windshield, but, he guessed, seeing nothing as cars sped around them. She acted as if she didn’t know he was in the rig with her, and he couldn’t forget how close she was. Whenever he was with her, his instincts seemed to sharpen and his nerves were strung tight as bow strings.
Her lower lip protruded slightly and her fingers drummed impatiently upon her leg. Her hair was loose and windblown and fell down one shoulder in thick, unruly curls. Beneath her jacket he noticed the outline of her breasts and he wondered if her resemblance to Kat stopped at her face or continued beneath her clothes…
Angry with himself for the single-minded track of his thoughts, he switched on the headlights and pulled out of the parking lot of a restaurant where he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from gazing at the curve of her cheek, the precocious little dimple when she smiled, the smooth column of her throat, and the roundness of her breasts.
He’d been hard half the day, silently cursing himself for feeling like a sex-starved teenager all over again. It was more than just her looks that attracted him; her mind was just as sexy as the rest of her.
Adria had given one interview after another and though Zach had disapproved, he didn’t have a death wish and didn’t do anything as stupid as try to stop her. He’d stood in the shadows, watching her handle the reporters’ questions deftly, though she couldn’t have missed the innuendoes that she was just a cheap fortune hunter out to steal a dead man’s money. She had managed to stay calm, even injecting a little humor into the situation. From the newspaper-reading and television-watching public’s point of vie
w, Adria Nash was going to look good—damned good—and if the Danvers family didn’t accept her as an honest woman searching for the truth, they would have one hell of a public relations problem.
Zach snorted in disgust. Public relations and public image were Nelson’s department. The kid was certain to be sweating. “Okay, where to?”
