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“Wonderful,” Tiffany said with a smile that disguised her inner turmoil. “Please, have a seat in the living room.” She opened the double doors of the formal room and silently invited them inside.
“You have a beautiful home,” Jeanette stated as she looked at the period pieces and the Italian marble of the fireplace with a practiced eye. Everything about the house was first class—no outward sign of money problems.
“Thank you.”
“Is this where you work?” Crawford asked skeptically.
“No . . .”
“If you don’t mind, Jeanette would like to get some shots of the inside of the farm as well as the outbuildings. You know, give people a chance to see whatever it is you do when you’re working. Don’t you have an office or something?” He eyed the formal living room’s expensive formal furniture with obvious distaste.
“Of course.” The last thing Tiffany could afford was any bad press, so she had to accommodate the nosy reporter. She decided she would have to find a way to get rid of Zane Sheridan. His story was too farfetched to be believed; and yet there was something forceful and determined about him that made her think the Irishman wasn’t bluffing.
Zane was still in the den and Tiffany wanted to keep Rod Crawford, with his probing questions, away from the visitor with the Irish accent. If the two men with their different perspectives on what was happening at Rhodes Breeding Farm got together, the results would be certain disaster. Tiffany shuddered when she envisioned the news concerning Moon Shadow’s foals and a rumor that Devil’s Gambit was still alive being splashed across the front page of theSanta Rosa Clarion.The minute the combined reports hit the front page, she would have reporters calling her day and night.
Tiffany’s mind was spinning miles a minute. What Zane had suggested was preposterous, and yet the surety of his gaze had convinced her that he wasn’t playing games. But Devil’s Gambit, alive? And Ellery? Her heart was beating so rapidly she could barely concentrate. She needed to talk to Zane Sheridan, that much was certain, just to find out if he were a master gambler, bluffing convincingly, or if he really did mean what he was saying and had the facts to back him up. But she had to speak to him alone, without the watchful eyes and ears of the press observing her.
Holding her back stiffly, she led Rod and Jeanette back through the foyer to the den, which was directly opposite the living room. Zane was standing by the fireplace, his eyes trained on the painting of the horse over the mantel. He had discarded his jacket and tossed it over the back of one chair, and the tight knot of his tie had been loosened. He looked as if he intended to stay. That was something she couldn’t allow, and yet she was afraid to let him go. There were so many questions whirling in her mind. Who was he? What did he want? How did he know Ellery? Why did he want her to believe that Devil’s Gambit might still be alive after four long years?
Without hesitation, Tiffany walked toward him. He turned to face her and his eyes were as cool and distant as the stormy, gray Pacific Ocean. If he had been lying a few moments before, he showed no trace of deceit. Yet his story couldn’t possibly be true; either it was a total fabrication or he just didn’t know what he was talking about.
The steadiness of his glare suggested just the opposite. Tiffany knew intuitively that Zane Sheridan rarely made mistakes. Cold dread took hold of her heart.
“Mr. Sheridan, would it be too much trouble to ask you to wait to finish our discussion?” she asked with an unsteady smile.What if he wouldn’t leave and caused a scene in front of the reporter from theSanta Rosa Clarion?His story was just wild and sensational enough to capture Rod Crawford’s attention.
Zane’s eyes flickered to the other two people and quickly sized them up as reporters. Obviously something was going on, and the widow Rhodes didn’t want him to know about it. His thick brows drew together in speculation.
“How long?”
“I’m not sure.... Mr. Crawford?”
“Call me Rod.”
Tiffany made a hasty introduction, while the bearded man came to her side and shook Zane’s outstretched hand. The image of the reporter’s hand linked with Zane’s made her uneasy.
“I don’t know,” Rod was saying, rubbing his bearded chin. “I suppose it will take . . . what?” He eyed Jeanette for input. “An hour, maybe two. I want to ask you some questions and then we need a quick tour of the buildings.”
Tiffany’s throat went dry. No matter how crazy Zane’s story seemed, she had to talk to him, find out what he wanted and why he thought that Devil’s Gambit might still be alive.
“I have a meeting at noon,” Zane stated, his calculating gaze never leaving the worried lines of her face. There was something in Tiffany Rhodes’s manner that suggested it would be to his advantage to stay. But he needed to be with her alone in order to accomplish everything he had planned for six long years. He’d given her the bait, and she’d swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. The satisfaction he had hoped to find was sadly lacking, and he felt a twinge of conscience at the worry in her clouded eyes.
“Look, Ms. Rhodes—can we get on with it? We’ve got another story to cover this afternoon,” Crawford interjected.
“Of course.” Tiffany returned her attention to Zane’s proud face. She hoped that she didn’t sound nearly as desperate as she felt. “Could you come by tomorrow, or would it be more convenient to meet you somewhere?”
“I have to catch an early flight.” His angular jaw was tense, his muscles rigid, but there was the glimmer of expectancy in his eyes.He’s enjoying this,she thought and she had to work to control her temper. She couldn’t blow up now, not with Rod Crawford in the room, but there was something infuriating in Zane’s arrogant manner.
Trying not to sound condescending she asked, “Then tonight?” He couldn’t just waltz into her life, make outrageous statements, and then disappear as if nothing had happened. She had to know the truth, or what he was attempting to portray as the truth. She wanted to forget about him and his wild imaginings, but she couldn’t dismiss him as just another publicity seeker. What did he want—really wantfrom her?
Zane’s gray eyes narrowed a fraction. “All right. What time?”
“How about dinner—seven-thirty?”
“I’ll be here.”
He picked up his jacket and flung it over his arm. Tiffany escorted him to the door and let out a long sigh of relief when he was gone. At least he had no inkling why the reporter was there, although it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out, especially once the article was printed. “Maybe he’ll be back in Ireland where he belongs by then,” she muttered with false optimism.
Louise was serving coffee and scones when Tiffany returned to the den. After accepting a cup of black coffee, Tiffany seated herself at her desk, feeling uncomfortably close to Rod Crawford, who sat across the desk. While Jeanette snapped a few “candid” shots of Tiffany at work, Rod began the interview.
