Flirting With Danger (20 page)

“Kate’s still in the kitchen,” Tom said, closing the door behind them. He tried to cover it, but Richard saw the appraising look he gave Samantha. She’d be in for more in a moment, but warning her would only have made her bolt.

Or maybe it wouldn’t. Samantha shook Tom’s hand, giving him a warm grin and showing no sign that she considered him some sort of archnemesis. “This is nice.”

“Thanks. We tore the old house on the lot down about six years ago and had this one built. We’re still tweaking, but that’s part of the fun,” Donner replied, with the pride of a man who’d personally supervised the placement of every bit of wood and plaster. “Would you care for a drink? We’ve set out some lanterns on the patio.”

“A beer for me,” Richard said, his attention on Samantha.

“A beer would be great,” she agreed.

So no Diet Coke now, apparently. She took in the living room area with what looked like genuine interest. Even when she was nervous she came across as smooth and at ease. It had to be a survival instinct—but she’d let him see her nervousness. Did it mean that she trusted him a little? Or did she just want him to think that?

Feet thundered down the stairs to their left. “Uncle Rick!”

He turned as Olivia thudded into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. Grinning, he returned the embrace, smacking a kiss on her upturned mouth. “How are you, my butterfly? You look grand. And you’ve grown at least six inches, haven’t you?”

“Only three,” the nine-year-old replied, grinning up at him. With her cropped blond hair and light blue eyes, she’d be a boy killer in a few years, and she knew it. “What did you bring me?”

“First, say hello to my friend. Sam, this is Olivia. Olivia, Samantha.”

Olivia offered her hand, and Sam shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Olivia.” She glanced at Rick. “Now stop torturing her, and hand over the present.”

He brought the gift around to the girl’s eye level and handed it over. “Now you said Japanese and red, so if it’s not the one you wanted, it’s your own fault.”

“Oh, I know it’ll be the right one,” she said, her eyes dancing as she tore off the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box. With great care she reached her fingers into the package to pull out the small porcelain doll clad in traditional Japanese kimono of bright red with white orchids. She squealed. “This is the exact one I saw in the book!” she exclaimed, wrapping a free arm around him again. “Her name’s Oko. She’s so pretty. Thank you, Uncle Rick.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tom was grinning, too. “Go show your mom, Liv.”

“Mom! Look what Uncle Rick found for me!” she yelled, and stampeded toward the back of the house.

“She collects porcelain dolls from around the world,” Donner explained, glancing at Samantha before turning his gaze back to Rick. “And you paid way too much for that, I’ll bet.”

He shrugged. “She appreciates them.”

“Yes, she does.” Samantha smiled a little. “She called you ‘uncle.’”

“I’ve known her since she was born,” he returned, still wondering what was going on in that agile mind of hers.

“Rick, you’ve outdone yourself,” a warm female voice came from the doorway, and he looked up, smiling.

“Kate,” he said, going forward to kiss the petite blonde on one cheek.

“How did you know we were looking for that exact doll?” she asked, reaching up to wipe lipstick from his jaw. “We haven’t been able to find it anywhere. And believe me, we looked.”

“Actually, Olivia faxed me a picture of it in London, and asked me to keep my eyes open for it. You know me. I can’t resist a challenge.”

“Uh-huh.” Her blue eyes slid from him to Samantha, still holding the other present and looking far more comfortable than he would have thought possible for her. Thank God he’d come to the point where he knew it was a facade. “You must be Sam. I hear you threw Tom into the pool. Good for you. He can be a real pain in the neck.”

“Well, thank you so much,” Donner grumbled.

“Hi,” Samantha said, with a return smile that for a moment looked almost shy. “You have a great house. I love all the exposed pine.”

“That was Tom’s idea. Once I convinced him that I didn’t want a little house on the prairie, and he toned it down a little, I think it came out nicely.”

Samantha’s smile widened. “Hm. I thought he’d be more the
Bonanza
type.”

Kate laughed. “You should have seen the original plans. Antlers on the walls and everything. It was hideous.” She put a hand around Samantha’s arm. “Do you cook?”

“Sandwiches and popcorn,” Samantha answered, her expression even more disarming. “Not even close to what you can do, from what I’ve heard.”

“Ah, I love pressure.” Kate smiled again. “I need some olives sliced, but I didn’t want you to think I was insulting you with menial labor.”

With a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh, Samantha grinned again. “I’m great with slicing.” She handed the other present back to Richard and headed for the kitchen with Kate and Olivia.

“Where’s Mike?” Rick asked Tom, hefting the remaining gift.

“Baseball practice. He’ll be back in another twenty minutes or so.” Donner led the way to the wet bar at the back of the parlor. “What the hell’s with Jellicoe?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Rick, she was pricklier than a cactus with me at your house, and now she’s Miss Congeniality?”

Richard took a breath. He could wish he’d been the only
one to realize that, but then Donner was supposed to be observant. “She’s adapting.”

“‘Adapting.’”

Since he’d brought a thief into the Donner house, he supposed he owed them an explanation. “It’s what she does,” he said in a low voice. “She fits in. She’s a survivor, and that’s how she does it.”

Tom pulled two bottles of Miller beer out from under the bar. “So which of her adaptations is the one you’ve been screwing?”

“All of them.” Charm or deceit—they were so close, but he’d seen her worry and her fear and her passion. That was the real Samantha. It had to be. “Change the subject,” he suggested, putting the box on the bar top.

“Okay. I saw you let her drive the Bentley. Interesting.”

“Why so?”

The attorney handed him one of the bottles. “You don’t let me drive the Bentley.”

“I’m not trying to impress you.”

“But you’re trying to impress
her
? I thought it was the other way around.”

“I can’t keep it straight any longer.” Richard leaned his elbows on the bar. “How much does Kate know about her?”

“Only what you told the paper; that she’s an art and security consultant, and you’re dating her. Oh, and I added that she’s helping with the tablet theft and dumped me into the pool.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“I will tell her the rest, you know.”

“I know. But at least she’ll have the chance to make up her own mind about Samantha first.”

“Or she’ll think whatever Jellicoe wants her to think.”

“Stop it, Tom. It’s not like that. She’s just trying to get out of this alive.”

Tom’s eyes were searching and somber. “You’re serious about her, aren’t you?”

“I seem to be.” He wasn’t in the mood to discuss it in depth
yet, however, so he straightened. “I did let her drive the Bentley, after all.”

“Which is my poin—”

“Anything new with Danté?”

“Fine. I was still down at the station when you called about that O’Hannon guy. They told Partino, but considering that it fairly well cleared him of the DeVore killing, he didn’t look all that happy.”

“No? How did he look?”

Tom glanced around, looking for wandering children. “Like he was about to shit his pants. I did find him a lawyer.”

“Who?”

“Steve Tannberg.”

Rick nodded, approving. “I’m glad you went outside your firm.”

“Yeah. Didn’t want to risk a conflict of interest down the line. I did get kinda pissed when Tannberg came out of interrogation without him. From what Steve said, though, Danté prefers to stay in jail. He says it’s to protest his unfair treatment by his former friends, but—”

“But you think he’s scared he’ll end up in pieces once he’s back out on the street.”

“Something like that.”

“He’s still not talking, though?”

Donner grimaced. “I’m not supposed to know this, but I think he actually wants to confess about the tablet. If he does, though, he’ll be owning up to tampering with the video.”

Richard nodded. “Which helps put him in Samantha’s room for the grenades.”

“I was thinking more along the lines that it would mean he had something to do with the original theft and Prentiss’s death, but that works, too.”

“Sorry.” Richard took a long swallow of beer. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.”

“Well, after seeing the way she looks tonight, I can’t entirely blame you for that. Wow.”

“I know.”

“Dad?” Olivia wandered into the parlor. “Mom says you’re busted for not bringing her a grasshopper and Sam a beer.”

“Crud. I’m on my way.”

Instead of leaving, though, Olivia continued her approach. “Are you dating Sam?” she asked, taking Richard’s hand in her small one.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and I like her.”

“She knew that my new doll was made by hand in 1922, and that they used a real lady’s hair to make her hair. And she split some of the olives with me when Mom wasn‘t looking. We put them on our fingers.”

“Yes, she’s pretty cool,” Richard agreed.

Olivia laughed. “‘Cool.’ You’re so old.”

Tom only laughed as Olivia ran off again. “You
are
old,” he said, when Richard lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I’m younger than you are.”

“Yeah, by four big old years.” He handed over another bottle of Miller and lifted the glass he’d made up for his wife. “Come on, before I get busted again.”

They headed into the kitchen—and Richard stopped. Kate had put one of her
I
’
M A CHEF
,
RELAX
aprons on Samantha, who stood at the counter with a knife in one hand and a stalk of celery in the other. The muscles across his abdomen tightened in pure lust. Who would have thought that Sam looking domestic would give him a hard-on?

She smiled as she saw him. “Look, I’ve been promoted to celery.”

Laughing, Kate turned off a burner and slid a boiling pot of pasta over to one side to cool. “By the end of the evening I’ll have her mixing ingredients.”

Samantha chuckled in obvious good humor. “Look out Wolfgang Puck.”

Unable to resist any longer, Richard strolled over to put the beer on the counter next to her, then tilted his head
around to kiss her lightly on the mouth. “You are so boss,” he murmured.

Samantha grinned, popping an olive into his mouth. “Groovy.”

Sunday, 7:50 p.m.

Samantha couldn’t remember ever being in a house that felt so calm. If someone had described it to her, in her limited experience she would have thought it deathly boring. Surprisingly, though, the Donners’ house was far from that. Cozy, perhaps, and comfortable, but not dull. It pleased her, even when she realized that she was beginning to hope Donner was a boy scout and that her reservations about him were more because of his career than because of him personally.

“Sam, will you carry the salad out to the table?” Kate asked, pulling a stack of plates down from a sunny yellow cupboard.

“Sure.”

Olivia led the way with a tray of salad dressings, and together they marched out to the covered patio. Donner had lit lanterns at the perimeter of the wood and lath, probably to keep the bugs away. Around the border of the large garden, lights had been set into the ground, shining upward into the flowers and lush green foliage.

The Donners had obviously put a great deal of time and ef
fort into their house, and it showed. “Have you always lived in Florida?” she asked Olivia, as the girl carefully arranged bowls of salad dressing around the tossed salad in the center.

“Yes. We had a smaller house closer to my dad’s office when I was little, but he built this one for us because we were getting too big to squeeze into the old one.”

Sam smiled. She couldn’t imagine living her entire life within ten or twenty miles of where she’d been born. She didn’t even know where she’d been born.

Kate appeared, carrying two plates laden with chicken and pasta. “There’re more on the counter,” she said, setting them on the table.

Rick and Donner helped tote out the drinks and parmesan cheese, and they all went out to the patio together. They’d set a place for the middle boy, Mike, but Kate left his plate in the microwave.

At the doorway Samantha hung back, touching Kate’s arm. She needed to know for sure about Donner one way or the other before she could let herself relax. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.

Kate gestured toward the hall at the far end of the living room. “Second door on the left, just past Tom’s office.”

“Don’t wait; I’ll be right out.” With a smile she headed back into the house.

Dinner, she’d already decided, would give her the best opportunity to do a little searching. Afterward, there would be Donners all over the house, and if Rick and the lawyer went off to get some work done, she’d be completely closed out of anywhere interesting. She found the bathroom and closed the door so it would look as though she was inside. That done, she slipped into Donner’s office.

He probably had a corner office or something at his law firm, but she would wager that if he was up to anything underhanded, he would keep the evidence away from work. His desk was neat, with only a phone, a computer, and some framed photos marring the expensive mahogany surface. Sit
ting in the chair, she pulled open the top drawer. Pens, a few sticky notepads, paper clips, and three jacks—that was it.

Sam fingered the jacks. Kid’s toys, probably Olivia’s. She lifted her eyes to the desk photos. One of the whole family filled the largest frame, on the Yale campus from the background building. The oldest Donner offspring, Chris, had obviously received the best genes from both parents—tall, blond, and confident-looking, his father probably thought he’d make a great lawyer. The other photos were of the younger boy, Mike, playing baseball, and one of Olivia dressed in what must have been a Halloween fairy princess costume. And there was one of Donner and Rick, both grinning, each holding some kind of deep sea fish they’d obviously caught. Rick’s was bigger.

Early in her career she’d learned to trust her instincts, learned that she could look at a room and tell the character of the person who inhabited it. Here she had an entire house, designed and built by Tom Donner and family. Blowing out her breath, she slowly pushed the drawer closed again and sat back.

“Satisfied?” Rick’s quiet voice came from the doorway.

She jumped.
Shit
. “I was…”

He pushed upright, walking into the room. “You were what?”

Sam stood as well, returning the chair to its former position. “I was looking for proof that he had something to do with the tablet or the murders.”

“Why?”

She could have made up a story, but she’d begun to realize something; she liked being straight with Rick Addison. “Because you refused to suspect him, and I wanted to be sure you weren’t being played.”

“And? Did you find anything?”

Sam grimaced. “Much as I hate to admit it, Donner’s okay.”

He stopped beside the desk and reached out to take her
hand. Unsure of his mood, she hesitated, then gripped his fingers. If he blabbed to Donner about this, she’d probably be asked to leave the house. And surprisingly, she wanted to stay a little while longer. Rick drew her up against him, tilting her chin up with his free hand.

“I told you,” he murmured, “I choose my friends carefully. Which means that you are the only person who’s allowed to play me.”

“I’m not—”

His mouth covered hers, hot and hard and breathless. Then, before she could do more than close her eyes and wonder how long it would be before the Donners came in looking for them and found them sprawled naked on the lawyer’s desk, he broke the embrace. Rick looked at her, fixing her smudged lipstick with his thumb. “Just remember,” he said, shifting his grip on her hand to pull her toward the door, “that I know what you’re doing, and that I have a finite amount of patience for games.”

He’d never lost control, she realized. He’d done exactly what he meant to, heat her up to boiling and make her lose her composure, while he stayed perfectly cool.
Dammit
. They returned to the patio, and Kate smiled as Sam took the seat beside Rick.

“Salad?”

“Yes, please.”

Samantha mentally shook herself. So Rick was a game player himself. She already knew that. Now she needed to be calm and enjoy the evening, because the Donners were genuine, normal people, and she wasn’t likely to have this kind of opportunity very often.

“Which bits did you cook?” Rick asked.

“I only chopped,” she said, “and sampled a little. It’s great.”

“It smells great,” he agreed, taking the salad bowl from Kate and handing it to her.

Drawing another breath, she managed to transfer a mound of salad into her salad bowl with a fair amount of aplomb.
She’d shared meals with her father and with Stoney, but they’d been mostly take-out pizza or pasta. Fresh, home-prepared food with fresh salad and steamed vegetables was a rarity.

“I’m home!” a young voice called from the interior of the house.

Kate stood, going to the patio door. “Your dinner’s in the microwave.”

A towheaded boy emerged a moment later, his plate balanced in one hand and a can of soda in the other. As he caught sight of Rick, his serious face brightened. “I thought that was your car out front,” he said, grinning and taking the seat on Rick’s other side.

“I left a gift for you on the bar,” Rick said, putting an arm around Mike’s shoulders and giving him a playful squeeze.

“After you eat,” Kate said, before the boy could rise. “And say hello to Sam. She’s a friend of Rick’s.”

“Hi,” he said, his ears flushing red.

She smiled back at him. “Hello.”

“I didn’t mean to be late,” he continued with a look at his father, digging into his chicken and pasta. “The coach made us run extra laps because Craig and Todd started throwing water balloons.”

“Just Craig and Todd?” Donner repeated.

Mike grinned. “Mostly. They’re the ones who got caught, anyway.” Seeming to think he needed a diversion from that statement, he turned to Rick again. “Is it true you almost got blown up?”

Rick shrugged. “It wasn’t that exciting.”

“We saw you on the news,” Olivia chimed in. “You looked really mad.”

With a chuckle, Rick reached for the ranch dressing. “I
was
really mad. I had to wear one of your dad’s shirts.”

Olivia giggled. “We tried to make color tags for all his clothes so he’d match, but he didn’t like it.”

With a sigh, Donner took a swallow of beer. “I have no secrets anymore.”

Kate reached over to pat his arm. “That’s all right, Tom. We don’t mind that you can’t dress yourself.”

Sam could barely remember to eat. The byplay among the members of the Donner family fascinated her. Nobody tried to outdo anyone else, no one said anything more cutting than a humorous tease, and nobody talked about how dull and ignorant and ready for fleecing the rest of the world was in comparison to themselves. She was glad she’d satisfied herself already about Donner’s innocence, because after this she wouldn’t have wanted to find anything incriminating.

“Sam, what do you do?” Mike asked, passing a basket of cheese bread.

“I’m…freelancing at the Norton Museum right now,” she answered smoothly, wishing she’d realized somebody in this nice, open, honest household was bound to ask her that question. “They got a big donation, so I’m helping them buy things and clean them up.”

“Did you and Uncle Rick meet because somebody stole one of his antiques?” Olivia asked.

“Yes, we did,” Rick put in smoothly.

Beginning to feel a little panicked, Sam took a quick look around the patio.
Keep it together, Jellicoe. You’re doing fine—just act normal. Whatever that is
. “Kate,” she said, a little too abruptly, “isn’t that a Phalaenopsis?”

Donner’s wife smiled. “Yes, it is. Wow. I’m impressed.”

Sam felt her cheeks heat. “I like flowers. I’d love to have a garden, but I …just have never had the time. Yours is magnificent.”

“What’s a Phalaenopsis?” Rick asked, craning his neck to look.

Kate gestured at the pot set in front of one of the patio uprights. “The purple flower there. They’re also called moth orchids. I couldn’t believe when it started blooming last month. It never has before.”

“I have a nice garden, too,” Rick protested, grinning. “Several of them, in fact.”

“Yes, but you employ like seventy gardeners, Addison.”
She glanced between Kate and Donner. “I would bet ten dollars that Kate does all the flowers herself, and Tom does the water fountain and the tree trimming. You have a gardener, but he only does the lawn.”

Tom was looking at Rick. “You told her that, right?”

With a laugh, Rick dug into the back pocket of his slacks for his wallet. “I didn’t say a word about it. Samantha is extremely observant.”

He flipped a ten-dollar bill onto the table, but Sam shook her head and pushed it back to him. “Two fives, if you please.”

“Crikey,” he said, exaggerating his accent while the kids laughed. Two fives appeared, and he pocketed the ten and the wallet again.

Sam picked up the money and handed one of the bills to Olivia, and the other to Mike. “I should have bet you more,” she mused, chuckling at him.

“Definitely,” Olivia chimed in.

Rick shook his head. “I’m not betting against you anymore.”

“Thank you, Sam. Can I get my present now?” Mike asked, around his last mouthful of vegetables.

“Yes, you
may
. And turn on the coffee maker.”

The fourteen-year-old bolted from the table, while Sam hid a grimace.
Coffee
. She’d known the evening had gone too smoothly. Blech. But okay, she could drink coffee with the normals one time.

Mike returned a moment later, and ripped into the package with none of the delicate care his younger sister had exhibited. “Oh, yes!” he shouted, flinging the paper over his shoulder.

“Michael!” his mother said sharply, but she was grinning.

“Look! He found one!”

Donner frowned. “Um, forgive me for being ignorant, but don’t you have one of those gold guys already?”

“Dad,” Mike said, with an exaggerated roll of his green eyes, “it’s not a ‘gold guy.’ It’s C-3PO.”

“Yeah. The
Star Wars
robot. I know that. But don’t you already have one?”

“I have the 1997 version, made by Hasbro. This is the 1978 model, from General Mills Fun Group.” Mike held up the black box, which was dotted with starlight and a photo of C-3PO. “Look. His waist is thicker, and his legs aren’t articulated, and his eyes are the same gold as his skin—not yellow like in the newer version. And it’s in the original box.”

“So it’s better.”

“It’s the original, so it’s rarer. You have to be careful, because some guys buy the new ones and repaint the eyes gold, then seal the joints on the legs and feet so he looks like the older one. You can tell when you look at his feet, though. The markings are completely different. But some guys want him so bad that they’re easy to fool. There’re pretty good fakes all over the place.”

They continued chatting about the merits of the 1978 C-3PO, but Sam only half listened. Something that Mike had said tickled at the back of her mind. Something that hadn’t occurred to her before. Something about why someone with a prestigious, steady job like Danté Partino would risk jail—or worse.

“Samantha,” Rick murmured, leaning close to her ear, “what is it?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

“About what?” he pressed.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Promise?” he whispered, sliding a hand along her bare arm.

“Promise.”

“How do you know about moth orchids?”

She shrugged, shivering as his fingers twined with hers. “I like reading gardening books.”

“I want to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

Maybe he wasn’t totally in control, after all. Good. “You already did kiss me,” Sam smirked, pulling her hand free and glad she hadn’t tried to explain that gardens fascinated her, mostly because of the permanence they represented. You couldn’t move around a lot and still have a garden. “So try to
resist me,” she chastised. “There are children present, you goof.”

“‘Goof,’” he repeated, a slow smile touching his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”

Kate cleared her throat. “Shall we adjourn to the sitting room for coffee?” She gazed at Rick. “Or tea, in your case. How about you, Sam? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soda?”

“Soda, please,” Sam answered, grateful. “I’ll help you clear the table.”