The Golden Chance (4 page)

Having all that feminine energy focused on him was doing things to his groin region, Nick discovered—things that hadn't been done in quite a while. He could tell that Phila had no concept of how she was turning him on, and that was as amusing as it was frustrating.

“Is that how you justify having been born into a privileged class? You pretend you're more noble than those who aren't as wealthy as you are? That you wouldn't stoop to some of the things a poor person might have to do in order to survive?”

“There seems to be some misunderstanding here. The Castletons and Lightfoots are not Rockefellers or Du Ponts. When you look at me you're only looking at second-generation money and I, personally, haven't even had that for the past three years.”

“Now I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Look, Phila, I don't know what Crissie told you, but the fact is my father, Reed Lightfoot, and his buddy, Burke Castleton, were a couple of shitkickers who got an education in the Army when it turned out they showed an aptitude for electronics. When they got out of the service they had some big plans and big ambitions and the advantage of an inside view of the way the military works. They built C&L from the ground up. They were lucky. Their timing was good, and they turned out to be as shrewd about business matters as they were about electronic design.”

“And they were smart enough to get into the death machine business,” Phila finished with satisfaction.

Nick discovered he was enjoying the new enthusiastic gleam in Phila's eyes. He wondered if the expression was anything like the one she would have when she was lying naked under a man.

The prospect made him feel a little light-headed while the rest of him began to feel heavy and tight. He realized just how long it had been since he had genuinely anticipated going to bed with a woman. He could remember the date clearly: September twenty-fifth, four and a half years ago. It had been his wedding night. Things had gone downhill from there until the divorce eighteen months later.

There had been one woman since his marriage had ended, another shell-shocked veteran of the divorce wars who had been as terrified of the singles scene as Nick. They had consoled each other for several months in what had become a safe and comfortable, if totally uninspired, relationship.

It had been a healing time for both of them. Neither had been looking for or expecting to find a great love. Five months ago Jeannie had put an end to the affair, saying she was ready to search for something more substantial and meaningful. Nick had been vegetating in peaceful celibacy ever since.

Until tonight. Tonight everything was changing. Tonight he was relearning the simple masculine joy of sexual anticipation.

With an effort, he pushed his sensual feelings aside and concentrated on looking for the key to Philadelphia Fox.

“To be perfectly truthful,” Nick said, swirling the scotch in his glass, “I used to have a few questions myself about all the military contracts Castleton & Lightfoot handled. That was back when I was involved with the firm, of course.”

“Really?” Phila looked skeptical. “What happened when you asked those questions?”

“I was told I was in serious danger of becoming a left-wing liberal establishment dupe,” he said dryly. “I was also called a coward and potential traitor to my country. Among other things.”

Phila's shocked expression was priceless. It warmed Nick to the core because it told him he was on the right track. To catch a wary little liberal Fox, one used bait that was bleeding from the heart.

“How dare they call you that just because you stood up to them?” Phila demanded, instantly indignant on his behalf. “Is that when you left Castleton & Lightfoot?”

“Yeah. Right about then.”

“You had a falling-out with the families over the business of making death machines?”

“That wasn't the only problem,” he felt obliged to confess. “There were other things going on at the time.”

“What other things?”

“Do you always get this personal this fast in a relationship?”

She immediately settled back against the vinyl seat and put her hands in her lap. “We're not talking about a relationship. We're talking about business.”

“I don't want to talk about business tonight, Phila. Not unless you want to discuss those shares.”

“I don't.”

“Then we're left with a relationship discussion.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Are you going to try to seduce me after all?”

“Are you in a mood to be seduced?”

“No. Absolutely not, so don't get any ideas.” She waited a beat and then, drawn inevitably back to the bait, asked, “Did you really walk away from Castleton & Lightfoot because they make military electronics?”

“As I said, there were a lot of things going on at the time besides that argument.” He had her now. He was certain of it. The pleasurable sense of anticipation increased. The bright, glittering little Fox was hooked. It would take skill and subtlety to close the trap, but Nick looked forward to the challenge. “Let's talk about something else.”

“I'd rather talk about what made you decide you wanted Castleton & Lightfoot to get out of the death machine business,” she said.

He took a firm grip on his patience and chose his words carefully. “Let's just say that military contracts are often more trouble than they're worth from a business point of view. It's a damned nuisance having to get security clearances for so many employees, there's too much interference from bureaucrats trying to make brownie points by playing the role of government watchdog.”

Disappointment dawned immediately in her expressive eyes. “Those are the reasons you wanted your firm to stop working for the government? You didn't like the paperwork?”

His lips curved slightly. “You want me to tell you that I suffered a liberal conversion and saw the light?”

“I'd like to think that there was some vague form of ethics involved in your decision, yes.”

“Well, there may have been a few other reasons besides the paperwork problems, but as I recall they didn't carry much weight with the other members of the families.”

“What reasons?” Phila demanded, on the scent again.

“I don't think this is a good time to go into them,” Nick said smoothly. “Let's talk about you for a while. Tell me why you quit your job. You were a social worker or welfare worker or something, I take it?”

“I was a caseworker for CPS,” she said, her voice cooling.

He tried to place the initials and failed. “CPS?”

“Child Protective Services.”

“Foster homes? Abused kids? That kind of thing?”

“Yes,” Phila said, her voice growing even colder. “That kind of thing.”

“Your ex-supervisor said something about your trying to avoid interviews. What was that all about?”

“There was a trial involving a foster parent. I had to testify. After the trial a lot of people wanted interviews.”

The more reticent she became, the more curious Nick grew. “You decided to quit your job after the trial ended?”

“People in my line of work have a high rate of burnout.” She smiled gratefully at the waitress who arrived to take their order. “Oh, good,” she told him. “I'm starving.”

Nick watched her make a major production out of ordering the chicken and sensed he wasn't going to get her back on the topic of her former job.

“I'll have the special,” Nick told the waitress.

The woman looked up from her order pad. “It's macaroni and cheese,” she said in a warning tone.

“Fine.”

“Macaroni and cheese?” Phila murmured in deep wonder as the waitress left.

“I happen to like macaroni and cheese. I'm a man of simple tastes.”

“Sure. That's why you drive a Porsche and drink scotch.”

“Having simple tastes does not imply a lack of standards,” Nick said blandly. “I also like beer. Now, where were we?”

“I'm not sure. I think you were trying to get the story of my life so you could figure out how to use it to convince me to turn over the shares. That's your way, isn't it? You're sneaky.”

“You flatter me.”

Phila tilted her chin aggressively. “Not likely. I wouldn't go out of my way to flatter a Lightfoot or a Castleton. In fact, I think it's time we put our cards on the table.”

“What makes you think I'm holding any cards?”

“Because you're the type who always keeps an ace up his sleeve. Now, then why don't you just be straightforward with me, Mr. Lightfoot? And whatever it is you're going to offer or threaten, you can rest assured I'll give you a straightforward answer in return.”

“And that answer will be no, right?”

“Right.” Phila's eyes were alight again with the promise of battle. She started to say something else but stopped abruptly, her gaze going to the door behind Nick. The gleam went out of her eyes instantly, to be replaced by a wary, almost nervous expression. “Oh, damn,” she said very softly.

Curious, Nick glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he was about to encounter an irate boyfriend of Phila's. What he saw was a thickly built woman in a faded, tie-dyed cotton dress. She must have been around forty but she was wearing her thin, graying hair in braids that hung to her waist. Her face was singularly lacking in character, showing no signs of maturity or past beauty. She wore no makeup to compensate for the unusual lack of color in her skin and lips. Her small eyes took in the crowd in one glance and alighted on Phila. She started down the aisle of booths.

“Friend of yours?” Nick asked, turning back to Phila.

“No.”

“Trouble?”

“Probably.” Her fingers were clenched around the edge of the table.

Nick wasn't sure what to expect of the coming confrontation. The last thing he wanted to get into was a cat fight between two women. Nor did he want to see Phila get hurt. “Does this by any chance involve a man?” he asked.

Phila's gaze met his. Her eyes were bitter. “In a way. Her name is Ruth Spalding. Feel free to leave.”

“Not yet. I'm hungry, and here come our salads.” He glanced at the waitress who was bearing down on the booth at the same rate of speed as the woman with the braids. With any luck the salads would get to the table first.

They did—or rather, Phila's did. Ruth Spalding spotted the tray and leaped for it with a muffled cry of rage. She seized one of the platefulls of iceburg lettuce, swept it off the tray and hurled it straight at Phila.

Nick managed to reach out and intercept the heavy plate before it struck Phila but the lettuce, together with its blue-cheese dressing and cherry tomatoes, cascaded down over her bright pumpkin blouse. Phila did not move. She simply sat staring at Ruth Spalding with an expression of resigned sorrow in her eyes.

“
Bitch
. Lying, scheming bitch.” There was an ugly mottling of red in the Spalding woman's thick face now as she screamed at Phila. Her eyes were feverish with hatred. “You lied, damn you. You lied and they came and took the children away. Those kids were all we had. He loved those children. And now they're gone. Now my husband's gone. And it's all your fault, you rotten, lying whore!”

Phila was shaking as she slowly got to her feet. Nick saw the fine trembling in her fingers and he slid out of the booth to stand beside her. He was startled by the fierce, protective instincts that were suddenly surging through him. Nobody else in the restaurant had moved, but all eyes were on the scene taking place in front of them.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Spalding.” Phila spoke with a calm gentleness that amazed Nick. She took a step toward the heavy woman. “More sorry than I can say.”

“You're not sorry, you meddling bitch,” Ruth Spalding hissed through her teeth. “You did it on purpose. You ruined everything.
Everything
, damn you!” She swung a huge hand in a wide arc.

Phila did not even try to duck the blow. Ruth Spalding's palm cracked against the side of her face with enough force to make Phila stagger backward a step.

“Jesus. That's enough.” Nick spoke very softly. If a man had acted this way toward Phila he knew he would have thrown a punch by now. He moved in front of the Spalding woman, looming directly in her path. She did not appear even to see him. She was staring rigidly over his shoulder, her entire attention focused on Phila.

“It's all right, Nick. Please. I'll handle this.”

Phila stepped around Nick, reaching out to the other woman. Nick watched in amazement as Phila put a hand on Spalding's plump shoulder. Spalding flinched as if she had been struck.

“
Don't you dare touch me, you bitch
.”

“I'm sorry, Ruth. I know you're hurting.”

Huge tears formed in Ruth Spalding's tiny eyes and coursed down her cheeks. “Bitch,” Spalding whispered again, her large body shaking with barely stifled sobs. “He was doing okay. We were gonna make it. He was doing good until you came along and messed it all up.”

“I know. I know.” Phila moved closer, putting both arms around the big woman. “I'm sorry, Ruth. So sorry.”

For a few seconds Ruth Spalding simply stood there, her head against Phila's shoulder as she sobbed heavily. Then she jerked herself back a step, as if ashamed to find herself taking comfort from the enemy. She pushed Phila away and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.