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“I don’t know . . . I don’t understand any of this.”
“Don’t try.”
Sheila closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to clear her mind. “Look, Noah. I don’t even know you, and I’m really not sure that Iwantto know you this well.”
“Why not?” he persisted.
She struggled into her blouse. “You and I, whether we like it or not, are business partners.”
“Don’t give me any of that sanctimonious and overused line about not mixing business and pleasure.”
“I don’t think of sex as pleasure!”
An interested black eyebrow cocked mockingly. “You’re not going to try and convince me that you didn’t enjoy yourself.”
“No.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t believe you. Now, what’s this all about?”
“When I said that I don’t consider sex to be pleasurable, I meantmerelypleasurable. Of course I enjoyed making love with you; I’d be a fool to try and deny it. The point is, I don’t go in for ‘casual sex’ for the sake of pleasure . . . or any other reason.”
“And you think that I do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do,” he replied seductively. “I’m willing to bet that you know more about me than you’re admitting.”
“‘That’s no excuse for hopping into bed with you.”
“You don’t need an excuse, Sheila. Just stay with me tonight. Do it because you want to.”
“I can’t.” She had managed to pull on all of her clothes and stand upright. Noah didn’t move. He sat before the fire, his chin resting on his knees, but his eyes never let go of hers.
“Do whatever it is that you think you must,” he whispered.
Sheila swallowed a lump that had been forming in her throat. She pulled on her raincoat and wondered if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. “Goodbye, Noah,” she murmured. “I’ll . . . I’ll talk to you later. . . .” She ran out of the house before he could answer and before she could change her mind.
Noah waited and listened to the sounds of her leaving. The front door closed, and a car engine coughed before catching and fading into the night. When he realized that Sheila wasn’t corning back, he straightened and pulled on his pants. He was more disturbed by his reaction to her than anything else. How could she have so easily gotten under his skin? Had all of the pressures of the office made him such an easy prey to a beautiful woman? There had to be more to it than met the eye. Why had she so easily responded to his touch? What the hell did she want from him—certainly more than a quick one-night stand. Or did she? He had thought that she had been hinting that she wanted out of the partnership with Wilder Investments. But when he had suggested buying her out, she had seemed indignant, as if she had already anticipated his offer and was more than ready to discard it before hearing the exact price.
Noah’s clear blue eyes clouded with suspicion. Without thinking, he reached for the brandy bottle and poured himself a drink. He took a long swallow before swirling the amber liquor in the glass and staring into the glowing coals. What was Sheila Lindstrom’s game?
Disregarding the fact that it was after two in the morning, Noah walked over to the desk and picked up the telephone. He looked up a number and with only a second’s hesitation dialed it. Several moments and nine rings later a groggy voice mumbled an indistinct greeting.
“Simmons?” Noah questioned curtly. “This is Noah Wilder.”
There was a weighty pause on the other end of the line. Noah could imagine the look of astonishment crossing the detective’s boyish face. “Something I can do for you?” Simmons asked cautiously. He hadn’t dealt much with Ben Wilder’s son, especially not in the middle of the night. Something was up.
“I want a report on the Cascade Valley Winery fire.”
“I’m working on it.”
Noah interrupted. “Then it’s not complete?” he asked sternly.
“Not quite.”
“Why not?”
The wheels in Simmons’s mind began to turn. Wilder was agitated and angry. Why? “It’s taken a little longer than expected.”
