“Come on, Zach. Do it. Who knows? She might even be London.”
“Not in a million years,” he said and ignored the funny feeling in his stomach when he remembered her clear blue eyes and her low, seductive voice. I remember you, Zach. As clearly as if it were yesterday, I remember a sullen, dark-haired boy whom I adored. His palms began to sweat around the receiver.
“I hope you’re right, but I sure would like to find out.”
“Drive over there yourself.”
“As I said, she trusts you.”
“She doesn’t even know me.” He tapped a foot in frustration and thought of Adria. She was beautiful and seductive and he was attracted to her. That fascination, in and of itself, was dangerous. He didn’t want or need a woman in his life, especially one who had her eye on the family fortune. He’d already learned that lesson.
“This’ll blow over soon. But we need to get a handle on her. All you have to do is convince her to come to the ranch with you for a couple of days.”
“No way.”
“Well, at least go talk to her. Ask her to stay at the Hotel Danvers, compliments of the family.”
Zach barked out a laugh. “As if she’d believe you. She went to a lot of trouble to hide herself. I don’t think shell want to stay in a hotel where she could be watched day and night.”
“My guess is she’ll like the higher-rent district. She’s after money, remember, and it must gall her to stay in some dump of a motel.”
“Maybe she likes her privacy.”
“Then she should never have started this, because before it’s over she won’t know what the word means.” He paused for a second and Zachary imagined Jason running a nervous hand around his neck. “Hell, Zach, we have to keep our eye on her.”
“Then invite her to stay at the damned hotel.”
“She trusts you.”
Zach snorted. “If she’s smart, she won’t trust anyone in the family.” He thought about the way she’d gazed at the picture of Witt and Katherine and London. As if she really cared. She either believed her far-fetched story herself or was the best damned actress he’d ever met.
“Talk to her,” Jason insisted.
“Oh, hell.” He hung up, not agreeing and not disagreeing. Grabbing his bag, he mentally kicked himself all the way to the parking garage. Adria Nash was trouble. Big-time trouble. Trouble he didn’t need or want.
“Shit!” He threw his single piece of luggage into the back of the Jeep and drove away from the hotel, heading east, through the drizzle and across the murky Willamette River and along the grid of streets on the east side. Traffic was light and he pushed the speed limit, suddenly anxious to find her. He was as bad as the rest of the family. He’d never heard of the Riverview Inn, but found it easily, a low-rent cinder block building painted stark white. The flickering lighted sign advertised free cable television. All the units were connected in a “U” shape. The panoramic view from the windows of the units was a pockmarked asphalt lot and an all-night bar across the street. Riverview stretched the imagination. No river. No view. But cheap daily rates.
Zach studied the cars in the lot and spied a battered Chevy Nova with Montana plates parked in front of unit eight. “So you are here,” he said, backing the Jeep into an unmarked spot near a solitary oak tree. He turned off the ignition and stared at the bank of rooms facing each other.
The manager’s unit was dark and he hoped no one peeked out the window and wondered what he was doing. He slid lower in the seat, glanced at his watch and frowned. It was nearly four in the morning and traffic still whizzed by, throwing up rainwater and creating a low, constant hum. He wondered if Adria was an early riser and told himself he’d soon find out.
Jason ran a nervous hand around the back of his neck. He had to think. He was the brains of the family, the only person who knew how to run his father’s vast holdings. Trisha dabbled with her art and decorating, Nelson practiced some archaic form of law as a public defender, Zach had earned his trade as a builder and now owned a construction firm in Bend while he managed the ranch in central Oregon, but Jason was the one who held the whole fraying fabric of the family business together.
He stripped off his tuxedo, threw it over the back of a chair for the maid to deal with in the morning, and frowned when he looked at his bed. Ever since Adria Nash had crashed the grand opening of the hotel, Jason’s plans for the night had been thrown into a tailspin. Right now, if things had progressed as he’d hoped, he would be in bed with Kim, rolling in the sheets, arms and legs entwined, mouths pressed to body parts, groans and moans of pleasure filling the room. Instead he was standing here half dressed, wishing he had another drink and worried that somehow a woman—a cunning and gorgeous woman he’d never seen before tonight—might find a way to steal the family’s fortune.
After Zach and Adria had left, he’d been forced to deal with his neurotic younger brother and sister, both of whom, in Jason’s opinion, needed to spend a few more hours a week on psychiatrists’ couches.
Zach was a pain, but at least he didn’t have any hangups, not like Trisha and Nelson. Trisha, though she’d been through a dozen lovers and one marriage, had never been happy and Jason suspected that she’d never really gotten over Mario Polidori. As for Nelson, different demons attacked that boy. Working for the public defender’s office was bad enough, but there was more about the youngest Danvers son to worry Jason. Nelson had a high set of moral standards, which he expounded for endless hours, and yet, there was a darker side to Nelson, a secretive side that only surfaced when he was angry or worried.
He poured himself another drink and kicked off his Jockey shorts, so that he was completely naked. From his bedroom he stood at the sliding glass door, backlit by the light from the hall, as he stared over the tops of trees and across the lights of the city. He was a man of action, a man who made quick decisions and lived with them, a person who got things done.
Without a qualm he reached for the phone and dialed a number he’d memorized and used years before. An answering machine clicked on and Jason sighed. His message was brief. “Yeah, it’s me. Danvers. It’s time to call in all my markers and you owe me one. A big one. I’ve got a job for you. I’ll call back tomorrow.”
His conscience twinged a bit, but he took a long swallow and felt the familiar warmth of Scotch as it burned down his throat, curled in his stomach, and warmed his bloodstream.
A few hours of rest and he’d be ready to face anything. And that included exposing Adria Nash as a fraud.
Adria’s head was pounding as she turned out the light. The room smelled musty and stale with the lingering odors of old cigarettes and years of filth. But the motel was cheap and anonymous. At least for now.
She fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. Images of Zachary went through her mind. She couldn’t be distracted by him. She had to stay focused. She’d spent too much time on her mission. In the past few years she’d written letters, met with lawyers, people from government agencies, and kept a diary, trying vainly to find Virginia Watson. Only now, after her father’s death, did she have an inkling as to who she was.
And she was going to go through hell and back trying to find out if, as her father insisted, she was really London Danvers.
Zach glanced at his watch. Not long until daylight. Staring through the windshield to the motel where Adria Nash was sleeping, he wondered if she might just be his long-lost half-sister.
Impossible.
Crazy.
But she looked so damned much like Kat.