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Authors: Jayne Castle
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to take full
advantage of the spectacular view of the sea. Natural sisal matting had been
used on polished board floors and the walls were sand-colored. The clean lines
of the furniture were upholstered in a very restrained palette of earth tones. It
rather reminded her of an elegant cruise ship. Expensive and neat with
everything in its place. There wasn’t so much as the morning paper left lying
on a coffee table to mar the tidiness. How depressing it was going to be
working with someone who had such a penchant for precision.
“I am never deliberately cryptic,” Gabriel informed her as
he poured a glass of chilled Chardonnay wine and carried it toward her. “I’ve
told you, I don’t like puzzles.”
“Then what is it that’s so strange about my finding Mr.
Fortune a pleasant man?” she taunted lightly, taking the glass and flinging
herself lightly down on the nearest chair.
Gabriel watched her sprawl with casual ease, and then he
carefully sat down across from her, adjusting his wineglass so that it sat in
the exact center of the coaster on the end table. His hazel eyes were hooded as
he said slowly, “Emil Fortune’s father spent time in a federal prison on income
tax fraud charges. The government went to court over the discrepancies in his
taxes because the FBI couldn’t find enough evidence to pin the more serious
charges on him. Emil’s brother manages some of the most lucrative casinos in
Vegas and Atlantic City. From a discreet distance, of course. Emil’s cousin was
careless. He’s spending ten years in prison on smuggling charges. Emil’s lawyer
expects to have him out within two years, however. Another of Emil’s relatives
runs a trucking firm that somehow made a fortune during the recent recession
when most trucking firms were losing their collective shirts. Emil’s
grandfather founded the-family empire during prohibition, if that gives you a
due as to the solid financial status of the family.”
Samantha stared at him. “And Emil?” she asked very carefully.
“Emil is much more sophisticated than the rest of his family,”
Gabriel drawled, sipping his wine. “He’s into arbitrage. He moves money and
securities around on the international market so fast it makes your head spin.”
“And makes a nice profit on the price discrepancies between
the currencies of different countries,” Samantha concluded slowly. “I see.” She
took a long sip of the wine, trying to square the image of the little rumpled man
in the spa lobby with that of an international money broker who had ties to a
powerful crime family. “Do you, uh, mind if I ask the obvious question?” she hazarded.
He leaned back in his chair. “You want to know how I got
involved with Emil Fortune?”
“Well, it might be reassuring to know you’re not in danger
of being hauled off to prison in the middle of our deal!” she retorted
spiritedly.
That elicited a lazy grin, that rare smile which made her
think of sharks. “Emil would never allow that to happen. He likes me.”
“Don’t be modest,” she instructed tightly. “Tell me why he
likes you?”
“Nervous?”
“I’m involved in a business deal, not a criminal venture!”
“Sometimes there’s a rather fine line between the two,”
Gabriel noted dryly.
“The line may be fine but I can still see it, and I intend
to stay on my side of it.”
“Very commendable.” He took another sip of wine and eyed her
over the rim of the glass. “Okay, I’ll set your mind at rest. You’re not in any
danger of finding my photograph on a Wanted poster at the post office. I met
Emil when I got involved with his sister.”
“His sister! Oh, I see,” Samantha began hastily, aware of a
totally unexpected twinge of resentment against the unknown woman. What was the
matter with her? Why should she give a damn about Gabriel Sinclair’s love life?
But in spite of her dismissal of the topic, she once again had a mental image
of him making love to a woman in that slow,
advantage of the spectacular view of the sea. Natural sisal matting had been
used on polished board floors and the walls were sand-colored. The clean lines
of the furniture were upholstered in a very restrained palette of earth tones. It
rather reminded her of an elegant cruise ship. Expensive and neat with
everything in its place. There wasn’t so much as the morning paper left lying
on a coffee table to mar the tidiness. How depressing it was going to be
working with someone who had such a penchant for precision.
“I am never deliberately cryptic,” Gabriel informed her as
he poured a glass of chilled Chardonnay wine and carried it toward her. “I’ve
told you, I don’t like puzzles.”
“Then what is it that’s so strange about my finding Mr.
Fortune a pleasant man?” she taunted lightly, taking the glass and flinging
herself lightly down on the nearest chair.
Gabriel watched her sprawl with casual ease, and then he
carefully sat down across from her, adjusting his wineglass so that it sat in
the exact center of the coaster on the end table. His hazel eyes were hooded as
he said slowly, “Emil Fortune’s father spent time in a federal prison on income
tax fraud charges. The government went to court over the discrepancies in his
taxes because the FBI couldn’t find enough evidence to pin the more serious
charges on him. Emil’s brother manages some of the most lucrative casinos in
Vegas and Atlantic City. From a discreet distance, of course. Emil’s cousin was
careless. He’s spending ten years in prison on smuggling charges. Emil’s lawyer
expects to have him out within two years, however. Another of Emil’s relatives
runs a trucking firm that somehow made a fortune during the recent recession
when most trucking firms were losing their collective shirts. Emil’s
grandfather founded the-family empire during prohibition, if that gives you a
due as to the solid financial status of the family.”
Samantha stared at him. “And Emil?” she asked very carefully.
“Emil is much more sophisticated than the rest of his family,”
Gabriel drawled, sipping his wine. “He’s into arbitrage. He moves money and
securities around on the international market so fast it makes your head spin.”
“And makes a nice profit on the price discrepancies between
the currencies of different countries,” Samantha concluded slowly. “I see.” She
took a long sip of the wine, trying to square the image of the little rumpled man
in the spa lobby with that of an international money broker who had ties to a
powerful crime family. “Do you, uh, mind if I ask the obvious question?” she hazarded.
He leaned back in his chair. “You want to know how I got
involved with Emil Fortune?”
“Well, it might be reassuring to know you’re not in danger
of being hauled off to prison in the middle of our deal!” she retorted
spiritedly.
That elicited a lazy grin, that rare smile which made her
think of sharks. “Emil would never allow that to happen. He likes me.”
“Don’t be modest,” she instructed tightly. “Tell me why he
likes you?”
“Nervous?”
“I’m involved in a business deal, not a criminal venture!”
“Sometimes there’s a rather fine line between the two,”
Gabriel noted dryly.
“The line may be fine but I can still see it, and I intend
to stay on my side of it.”
“Very commendable.” He took another sip of wine and eyed her
over the rim of the glass. “Okay, I’ll set your mind at rest. You’re not in any
danger of finding my photograph on a Wanted poster at the post office. I met
Emil when I got involved with his sister.”
“His sister! Oh, I see,” Samantha began hastily, aware of a
totally unexpected twinge of resentment against the unknown woman. What was the
matter with her? Why should she give a damn about Gabriel Sinclair’s love life?
But in spite of her dismissal of the topic, she once again had a mental image
of him making love to a woman in that slow,
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