Pirate's Gold (22 page)

“Dear God…”

“Okay, so I told you my secret,” he stated, drawing her attention back to his hard face. “What about yours?”

“I don't have any…”

“I'm talking about Brandon.”

Every muscle in Maren's body froze. She hadn't expected her ex-husband to be included in the conversation. Lifting her eyes to meet his condemning gaze squarely, she managed to hide the fact that her stomach was doing somersaults. “What about Brandon?” he charged. “How long do you intend to support him?”

“Until he can get a job on his own.”

Sparks of anger lit his cold gaze. “If he wanted to be employed, I'm sure he could be.” Kyle's lips drew into a frown of disgust. “What I'm
not
sure of is how badly you want to be free of him.”

Maren's rage matched that of her attacker. “That's a low blow, Kyle. You know that I'm only helping Brandon until he can get back on his feet again.”

“No matter how long it takes?' Kyle charged.

“Until
I
know for certain that he could hold a job if he wanted to.”

Maren grabbed her suitcase and strode angrily out of the room and down the stairs. She could hear Kyle's footsteps behind her, but she refused to turn and face his angry stare. Attempting to appear as calm as she could under the circumstances, she pushed open the kitchen door, hoping to track down Lydia and Holly so she could say goodbye.

Both Lydia and Holly were seated at the kitchen counter. A textbook was lying open-faced in front of them as they sipped lemonade and chuckled merrily to themselves. Holly began to murmur a simple phrase of butchered Spanish, and Lydia laughed so hard she had to wipe the corner of her eye with her apron.

“
Dios,
girl.” Lydia smiled. “Have you ever thought about studying French instead?”

Holly giggled and closed the book. “How do you say ‘I've had enough'?”

“What's going on in here?” Maren asked with an interested smile.

“Lydia's teaching me Spanish,” Holly replied, sliding her instructor a mischievous glance.

“Not me,” Lydia denounced fondly. “You're a lost cause.”

Pretending to be miffed, Holly mumbled. “Oh, yeah, just wait. When I ace the test, guess who'll want all the credit?”

“And I'll deserve it,” Lydia added with a warm smile for the girl. Maren laughed, but felt a growing sadness when she realized how attached she'd become to Kyle and his small family. She heard him enter the room on her heels, and she knew that if she didn't make her farewells hastily, she might not find the heart to leave.

“I just came to say goodbye,” she announced regretfully.

Holly's smile faded. “Will you be coming back soon?” the girl asked, hoping to appear uninterested. Lydia's worried gaze studied Maren, communicating the elderly woman's concern for Kyle's daughter.

“I don't know,” Maren admitted honestly. The argument with Kyle was still burning in her heart. She glanced at him and penetrated his brooding stare. He cared for her. She could see it as clearly as if it were written on his face. Maren smiled and touched Holly lightly on the arm. “Of course I'll be back, I'm just not exactly sure when…. I've got a job, you know.”

“Yeah, just like Mom,” Holly replied thoughtlessly.

The comment settled like lead in the room. An awkward silence followed, and Kyle's eyes, dark as night, watched Maren intently.

Lydia nervously twirled the pencil she had been using while helping Holly study. She cleared her throat before speaking. “Are you sure you can't stay for dinner?…There's plenty of food.” Lydia's dark eyes were hopeful.

“I'm sure there is,” Maren agreed. “And really I'd love to, but I just can't. Not tonight.”

Kyle's silence charged Maren with the lie, but she ignored him and didn't bother to protest when he took her suitcase from her hand and held the door open for her. “This is your decision, you know. You could stay if you wanted.”

“I think we both need a little time to sort things out,” she objected. Her cool gaze held his firmly. “If you're right about the problem at Festival, I'm going to find it.”

A look of concern crossed his face. He looked at her profile, pondering the gentle contours and the intelligent depths of her eyes. A soft sea breeze ruffled her hair, and he wished to God he could find a way to make her stay with him. In frustration he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don't go jumping off the deep end on me,” he warned. “Not until we're sure about this thing. It might get sticky.” Together they walked outside toward Maren's car.

“Are you trying to say ‘dangerous'?” she accused flatly.

“I just want to know that you'll be careful. I wouldn't have brought any of this up to you, but you insisted.”

“Now you sound like a private eye on one of those ridiculous detective shows. You're the one who started this,” she reminded him.

“Not me, one of your employees.”

“You
think.
”

He opened the car door for her and placed the suitcase on the backseat. She slid into position behind the steering wheel, pausing as she poised her keys at the ignition. The car door shut, and she had to squint against the blinding glare of the sun through the open car window. “I wish you'd reconsider,” he suggested in a rough voice filled with intimate memories.

“You know that's impossible.” She started the car, but before she could put it into gear, his fingers had captured the sun-gilded strands of her reddish hair, forcing her to look up again. In silent promise, he kissed her upturned lips.

“I'll miss you,” he vowed, wondering at the dull ache pounding between his temples as he watched Maren wheel the sports car down the long driveway. Pushing his palms into the back pockets of his jeans, he wondered if there would ever be a day when she would trust him enough to stay with him.

 

K
YLE HAD BEENAS GOOD
as his word. Elise had called the following week and been happy to report that the offer was completely satisfactory. As a show of good faith, Kyle had offered Maren a bonus program that would allow her to use the money to purchase shares of Sterling Recording Company stock. The attorneys for Sterling were rewriting the offer, and it would be ready to be signed by the end of the month.

Maren was so swamped with work that she didn't have a chance to breathe. Everything that could go wrong with the Mirage video did. There had been lighting problems in the soundstage, some of the costumes had been lost for nearly two days before being found hidden in a trunk near the location site and a small accident with fireworks exploding at the wrong time had shorted out the amplifiers. Fortunately no one had been hurt.

“I tell ya,” Ted Bensen had stated at a meeting earlier in the week. “It's almost as if this Mirage sequence is jinxed. If I didn't know better, I'd swear we were being sabotaged!”

Maren had dismissed his complaints as a way for Ted to vent his frustrations. She couldn't blame him for being concerned: the problems were unlikely, but not inexplicable. Maren remembered the first video she had done for Mirage. Compared with it, the problems with “Yesterday's Heart” seemed insignificant.

What bothered her more than the puzzling events happening to the Mirage video was Jan. The secretary's attitude had become frigid, and try as she might, Maren wasn't able to communicate with her. Jan's work hadn't suffered, but her remarks to Maren about the impending sale of Festival were severe.

“Why do you think we've had all these problems with the latest Mirage video?” Jan had asked with a knowing glint in her brown eyes. “Why now, I'll bet Kyle Sterling is behind all this. He's trying to find a way to force you to sell!”

“That's ludicrous,” Maren had replied indignantly. “He knows I intend to go through with the deal.”

“Sure,” Jan had responded with a frown. “But you haven't done it yet, have you? I think Sterling is just hedging his bets!”

Maren had pushed aside Jan's pointed comments and attributed them to overwork and a lousy situation with Jake. No doubt the secretary was feeling very insecure, and the fact that Festival was going to be sold didn't help the situation.

The first break in Maren's seven-day work weeks came nearly three weeks from the time she had left La Jolla. Fortunately, despite the unlikely delays, Maren had been able to accomplish more than she had hoped in the twenty-odd days and had even started work on Joey Righteous's video, once Kyle had signed the contract. She had seen Kyle fleetingly during the long three weeks. He had called several times and had been able to come to L.A. to watch the location taping of “Yesterday's Heart.” But their time together had been short, and all too quickly he had returned to La Jolla, leaving her alone and taking with him the signed agreement of sale for Festival Productions. It had been a difficult decision for Maren, and more than once she had experienced the uncanny feeling that she had made an irreversible mistake in agreeing to sell the one thing she had worked so hard to create. In handing Kyle the signed document, Maren had given Kyle the opportunity to free himself of any commitment to her.

With her work load slightly less burdensome, Maren decided to take Kyle up on his open invitation. She deserved a small vacation.

It was evening by the time she had packed. She decided to take the scenic route along the coast back to La Jolla. That way she wouldn't have to concentrate on the snarls of traffic that backed up the freeways, and she would be able to consider all that had happened to her in the last few weeks.

The drive was pleasant and carefree. Wind from the Pacific Ocean blew through the Torrey pines that clung tenaciously to the parched bluffs overlooking the sea north of La Jolla. Maren let out a contented sigh as she drove southward and noticed that the final rays of a dying sun turned the blue waters of the Pacific various shades of brilliant gold.

In the short time she had been with Kyle, Maren hadn't felt that the problems between them had been resolved. Perhaps her agreement to sell Festival Productions would change all that. She certainly hoped so. Elise Conrad, Maren's attorney, had assured Maren that Kyle's offer to buy out Festival was not only legal, but also more than equitable. In Elise's estimation, Maren would never get a better offer. She advised her client to sell and escape from the rigorous daily routine of running the business. Reluctantly Maren had agreed. The one shining spot in the entire transaction was that Maren would finally be able to pay off Jacob Green and get out from under his slippery thumb.

Before leaving for La Jolla, Maren had called Brandon. It was a stilted conversation, and though he did admit that he felt better physically, he wasn't able to accept the idea of working at a desk job for the rest of his life. He'd consulted several career analysts, but none of the employment they had suggested appealed to him. After the action and glamour of the tennis circuit, a dull job of pushing papers just didn't cut it.

Brandon had indicated that his physical therapy sessions were nearly finished and that he hoped Maren would consider letting him reside in the condominium they had shared when they were married. Though it was her part of the divorce settlement and she now rented it to an elderly couple, Brandon reasoned that she could drum up some excuse to evict them. After all, what was he to do? He couldn't very well support himself, at least not yet.

Maren had hung up the phone with trembling hands. A wave of nausea rushed up her throat as she realized that Kyle had been right. Brandon had been using her, playing upon her sympathies and guilt all along. Her ex-husband was avoiding taking any responsibility for his own life. When she considered all the guilt she had borne over Brandon's unfortunate accident, a new feeling of self-awareness took hold of her: His accident wasn't her fault. Maren didn't
owe
Brandon anything.

And so, soon she would be working for Kyle, she mused to herself as she passed through the familiar gates guarding his estate. She found the thought pleasant, if a little unnerving. The largest step of all had already been taken. Filming was complete on the first Mirage video, and editing would be finished within a couple of weeks. A celebration was planned for the first showing of the tape.

Maren turned off the car motor, and a pleased smile spread over her face. The only thing she hadn't been able to accomplish in the last few weeks concerned Mitzi Danner's videotape of “Going for Broke.” Maren had come across no evidence to indicate that Mitzi's tape had been duplicated. She was still bothered by Kyle's accusations, but had come to the conclusion that Ryan Woods, whoever in the world he was, had made a mistake—an incredibly big mistake.

Maren walked briskly to the front door with newly felt confidence. Perhaps things were going to get better. Before she could knock on the door it was pulled open and Lydia greeted her with worried eyes.

“Thank God you're here,” she murmured, hastily making the sign of the cross over her breasts.

“What's wrong?” Maren's heart leapt to her throat. The anxiety in Lydia's dark eyes and the pained expression on her face made Maren's pulse race.