“Yes, and a very convincing one,” Jason said, unable to hide his irritation.
“Oh, dear.” Her small lips pursed in her fleshy face. Frances Boothe would lay down her life for Danvers International. “Well, Guy said you might want to avoid the lobby.”
“I am,” he said, flashing her a not-to-worry smile. “They won’t expect me to be going off the roof. Anything else?”
“Miss Monticello called twice. Wanted you to call back.”
Jason’s fingers clenched over the handle of his briefcase at the mention of Kim. She could stew for a while; it wouldn’t hurt her to wait for him. Now that Adria had gone to the press, Kim held nothing over his head—except his affair. Frowning to himself, he dashed down the hall with two vice presidents. They were both talking to him at once, two yes-men who cared more about Danvers International than they did their own families. He managed to respond automatically as they rode the elevator to the helicopter pad on the roof.
The chopper was waiting and Jason was grateful for the roar of the whirring blades that drowned out conversation for the next few minutes. As the helicopter lifted off and he looked down at the city he felt a premonition of doom. At one time he’d been certain he would be the crown prince of Portland. Now, because of Adria Nash, he wasn’t so sure.
It was time to show Ms. Nash what she was up against. Really up against.
Zach glanced at Adria. She was huddled in the far corner of his Jeep, staring at the middle distance through the windshield, but, he guessed, seeing nothing as cars sped around them. She acted as if she didn’t know he was in the rig with her, and he couldn’t forget how close she was. Whenever he was with her, his instincts seemed to sharpen and his nerves were strung tight as bow strings.
Her lower lip protruded slightly and her fingers drummed impatiently upon her leg. Her hair was loose and windblown and fell down one shoulder in thick, unruly curls. Beneath her jacket he noticed the outline of her breasts and he wondered if her resemblance to Kat stopped at her face or continued beneath her clothes…
Angry with himself for the single-minded track of his thoughts, he switched on the headlights and pulled out of the parking lot of a restaurant where he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from gazing at the curve of her cheek, the precocious little dimple when she smiled, the smooth column of her throat, and the roundness of her breasts.
He’d been hard half the day, silently cursing himself for feeling like a sex-starved teenager all over again. It was more than just her looks that attracted him; her mind was just as sexy as the rest of her.
Adria had given one interview after another and though Zach had disapproved, he didn’t have a death wish and didn’t do anything as stupid as try to stop her. He’d stood in the shadows, watching her handle the reporters’ questions deftly, though she couldn’t have missed the innuendoes that she was just a cheap fortune hunter out to steal a dead man’s money. She had managed to stay calm, even injecting a little humor into the situation. From the newspaper-reading and television-watching public’s point of view, Adria Nash was going to look good—damned good—and if the Danvers family didn’t accept her as an honest woman searching for the truth, they would have one hell of a public relations problem.
Zach snorted in disgust. Public relations and public image were Nelson’s department. The kid was certain to be sweating. “Okay, where to?”
“I guess back to the hotel.”
“You’ll have reporters swarming through the lobby,” he predicted. “Your phone will ring off the hook.”
She smiled a little. “I’ll leave that to Security.” Stifling a yawn, she added, “Besides, I think I can handle them.”
“It’s your funeral,” he growled, and she even managed a laugh as he drove to the Orion Hotel. She was tougher than he’d first thought and as she’d so vehemently claimed on more than one occasion, she didn’t run scared easily. Her tenacious and independent spirit had earned her his grudging respect. “The press can be ruthless.”
Her gaze slid in his direction. “I’m used to it.” For a split second he read something more in her eyes than her usual hostility, a dusky look that caused a forbidden quivering deep in his gut. “Don’t worry about it, Zach. I’ll be fine.”
Silently cursing the lust that continually teased the corners of his mind whenever he was around her, he parked near the hotel. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly, hustling her through the gathering mist to the hotel. Their footsteps rang on the wet sidewalk and Adria ducked her head against the wind.
He expected to be crushed by a throng of scandal-hungry reporters, but the lobby was nearly deserted. Only a few people, carrying raincoats and umbrellas, were hurrying in and out of the restaurant and bar.
Adria relaxed a little. It had been a long day and she’d been on edge, if not because of the reporters and their questions, then because of Zachary. He’d been apprehensive, his gray eyes brooding as he’d watched the crowd and tersely answered the few questions cast in his direction. She’d felt his tension hovering in the air, noticed the muscles of his neck flex when a reporter asked a particularly pointed question, and knew the minute he turned his gaze on her. He was with her most of the day, only leaving her for about an hour when she was in an interview with a woman reporter from the Oregonian.
She found it impossible to believe that he was her half-brother. He was just too sexy, too darkly sensual, to be related to her. Surely she wouldn’t find him so attractive, so dangerously alluring, if in fact the same blood ran in their veins. As if he read her thoughts, he turned his eyes on her and she saw it, that tiny flicker of passion that he tried vainly to hide.
Her throat closed in on itself and time seemed to stand still.
She felt as if she and Zach were the only two people in the world. One man. One woman. Licking her lips nervously, she noticed that his gaze was drawn to the movement at her mouth. He swallowed hard.
“Miss Nash?” The clerk at the registration desk was trying to catch her attention.
“Oh, yes,” she said, glad for the interruption. Clearing her throat and praying she wasn’t transparent, she asked, “Are there any messages for me?”
“Does it rain in Oregon?” the desk clerk asked dryly, trying to make a joke as he handed her a thick stack of small papers that filled her fist. She flipped through each missive quickly. Some of the people were reporters, others she didn’t recognize at all, probably just the curious, starstruck that someone dared claim to be London Danvers.
They walked to the elevators and Zach cast one final look over his shoulder before he touched her arm. “You don’t mind if I come up to your room and see if your friend left any more gifts?”
Adria’s heart nearly missed a beat. She hesitated and bit her lip. This is stupid—just plain stupid, Adria. You’ve always been a smart woman, so don’t blow it now! Think, for God’s sake! Being alone in a hotel room with Zachary is asking—no, begging—for trouble so deep you’re sure to drown! He’s asking the impossible! With a lift of her shoulder as she punched the elevator call button, she replied, “Whatever you want.” Oh, God, had she really said that?
They stepped into the elevator car and the atmosphere seemed close, making breathing difficult. Zachary placed both hands on the back rail, leaning his hips against the smoothly polished brass, not attempting to close the distance between them.
She shouldn’t be thinking about Zach like this. She didn’t have time to get involved with a man; she had to remain focused and, until she knew if he was her half-brother, the only sane thing was to stay away from him.
Which seemed impossible.