And no money for her twenty-five percent of the land.
Derry had told Hawk about thata"Angel and a quarter of Eagle Head. Hawk a.s.sumed that it was payment for services rendered. How else could Angel afford to laze away three months of the year and her holidays, too?
Somebody had to pay for the privilege of Angelas company. A quarter interest in Eagle Head wasnat bad wages for three years of awork.a Angel didnat see Hawkas cynical appraisal of her. She was watching Derry, seeing the shadows of pain and sleeplessness beneath his tanned skin. Derry looked very young, but she knew that he wasnat. Not really.
No one who had lived through the wreck three years ago would ever be young again. Inexperienced, yes. Young, no.
Angel sighed.
Derry must like Hawk very much to promise him me as a tour guide, Angel thought unhappily.
Derry, too, must have sensed the loneliness beneath Hawkas proud surface. As lonely as a hawk riding a cold wind. And as compelling.
Power and grace and darkness, eyes that see all the way through to the core.
Angelas hand hesitated over Derryas hair, then resumed stroking him almost absently.
Thereas no real reason not to show Hawk the leisure possibilities of the Pacific Northwest. I would spend my summer roaming the Vancouver Island and the Inside Pa.s.sage anyway.
Itas hardly too much to ask that I take Hawk along, and in so doing help Derry fulfill a dream.
Angel looked up at Hawk, not surprised to find that he had been watching her. She met his hard, enigmatic eyes without flinching.
aHow long will you need me?a Angel asked calmly.
A corner of Hawkas mouth turned down in a cynical curve. Not more than a night or two, Iall bet.
But the thought went no further than Hawkas narrowed eyes. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, without emotion of any kind.
aSix weeks at most,a Hawk said. aThatas all the time I can afford. I have several other land deals coming together.a Hawk frowned faintly. He had an intricate, interlocking network of stock and land sales that should culminate within six weeks. Then he would either be a great deal richer or he would get to start all over again.
Either way, it would be exciting.
That was what mattered to Hawk. Not the money, but the adrenaline. He had made and lost several fortunes since he quit racing. As in racing, he preferred winning in business to losing or crashing.
But win or lose, the adrenaline flowed. The discovery, the pursuit, the kill. The endless cycle, endlessly exciting, telling Hawk that he was alive.
aSix weeks,a repeated Angel, keeping her voice level with an effort.
aOn and off. Iall be flying in and out.a Hawk gave Angel a dark-eyed glance. aWe can hammer out a tentative schedule. You tell me whatas available to see and do, and weall figure out the best times for both of us.a Angel nodded absently.
aNo promises,a Hawk added. aI may not like what I see. If I donat, no sale.a Angel looked at Derry. Despite the barbiturateas embrace, he stirred restively and made a small sound. His pain had merely been put at a greater distance, not vanquished.
For an instant Angelas hand hesitated in its soothing journey as she realized how many times Derry had sat by her bed, watched her restless sleep, and heard her whimper as unconsciousness released the harsh guard she kept on her emotions.
So many times she had awakened to his affectionate smile and encouraging You look better today.
There was really no question about helping Derry. If Hawk needed Angel as a guide for six weeks or six years, she would be there.
Gently, Angelas hand resumed smoothing back Derryas springy blond hair.
aFine,a Angel said quietly, not looking up at Hawk again. aWhatever is necessary.a
5.
It was still dark outside, almost an hour until dawn. Angel worked quietly in the kitchen, putting food into grocery bags, wrapping sandwiches, and turning strips of bacon in the pan.
When she heard the thump of Derryas crutches in the hallway, she peeled off another handful of bacon and put the strips into the pan to fry.
aYouare up early,a Angel said, turning to smile at Derry. aDid I wake you?a aNo.a Derry grimaced as he shifted his weight. Normally he was cheerfula"maddeningly soa"in the morning. His present state told Angel that his ankle was throbbing.
aHow did you sleep?a she asked, searching his face.
Derry glowered. Between that and his tousled blond curls, he looked a surly sixteen.
aLousy,a he muttered. aI feel hung over.a aYou look it, too. Orange juice?a Yawning, ruffling his hair with one hand, Derry nodded.
aPlease,a he said. Then, hopefully, aCoffee?a aSit down. Iall bring it to you.a While Derry went to the little breakfast nook that had a view of the strait, Angel fixed up a tray with coffee, juice, toast, and homemade jams. The latter were courtesy of Mrs. Carey, a neighbor who made the best jams on Vancouver Island. Two months ago she had tripped over her cat and broken her hip. The cast was off now, but Angel still shopped for her, as well as for two other temporary shut-ins.
aWhereas Hawk?a Derry asked as Angel set the tray on the table.
aTelephone.a Derry shook his head. aHe works too hard. The sun isnat even up.a aIt is in London. Heas talking to Lord Someone-or-other.a aMust be the island heas trying to buy.a aA whole island?a asked Angel.
aYeah,a Derry said. aHe wants to turn it into a cracking plant for North Sea oil.a Angel hesitated, then went back to the stove.
aHawk must be very rich,a she said.
aI guess. When I asked the bank to check him out as a potential buyer for Eagle Head, I got no further than the name Miles Hawkins. Old Man Johnstonas eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.a aOrange juice,a Angel said.
Obediently Derry drank the juice.
aHawk has quite a reputation in what Johnston refers to as athe international financial community,a a Derry added. aA bona-fide high roller.a Derry paused long enough to take several long swallows of the fragrant coffee. Sighing, he looked hopefully at the coffee pot.
Smiling, Angel picked up the coffee pot and topped off his cup.
aOdd, though,a Derry said after a moment. aHawk doesnat act rich.a Shrugging, Angel returned to the bacon.
aHow does someone aact richa?a she asked.
aYou know. Throwing money everywhere. Dropping the names of the right resorts, the right people. Private jets and cars faster than the speed of light.a aLike Clarissa?a Derry paused, then sighed. aYeah. She was something else, wasnat she?a Angel suppressed a smile.
aIad tell you what that something was,a Angel offered, abut Iam not supposed to know the word. Thank G.o.d you saw through her, Derry. She was gorgeous, sure, but she had the intelligence of a clam.a aYouare slandering clams,a Derry said dryly.
Smiling openly, Angel set strips of bacon out to drain on paper towels.
aHow many eggs?a she asked.
aFive.a aHungry, arenat you?a aI slept through dinner, remember?a aUmmm,a Angel said, wielding a chopper over the crisp bacon.
She remembered dinner very well. She and Hawk had spent an hour working on a schedule. She had made up a list of things to do and the approximate times involved in doing them right. Hawk had scanned the list very quickly and set it aside.
Then Hawk had questioned Angel in detail, missing none of the thirty-seven items on the list that he had looked at for less than sixty seconds. His questions had been concise and incisive. At the end of the hour Angel had felt wrung out.
When Hawk had all the information he required, hea"without looking at the list againa"wrote out a tentative schedule, handed Angel several thousand dollars for expenses, and excused himself.
Hawk had spent the next hour talking to Tokyoas equivalent of the stock exchange.
The beaten eggs hissed as they slid into the hot omelet pan. Angel swirled the pan deftly, adding ingredients as the omelet formed. Her hand hovered over the mounds of freshly prepared ingredients heaped on the breadboard by the stove.
aMushrooms?a she asked.
aThe works,a said Derry instantly.
The omelet thickened, glistening with melting cheese. Just as Angel folded it in half, a timer went off.
She slid Derryas omelet onto a warm plate, then pulled a pan of croissants out of the oven and put them into a napkin-lined bun warmer. The marvelous fragrance of fresh croissants and steaming omelet preceded her to the table.
Derry smiled up at her.
aThanks, Angie,a he said softly. aThis beats h.e.l.l out of peanut b.u.t.ter and toast.a aAnything beats that.a aCreamed liverwurst?a Derry asked innocently.
Angel shuddered.
Derry took a bite of the omelet and sighed. aClarissa was right about one thing,a he said.
aOh?a aYouare gonna spoil me for any other woman.a Angel laughed and ruffled Derryas hair affectionately. Then she turned to go back to the stovea"and nearly walked right into Hawk.
aOh!a Angel stepped back, her eyes wide and startled. aGood Lord, but youare light on your feet!a Hawk simply looked down at Angel with a cold expression. The planes of his face seemed unusually harsh, his eyes black in the artificial light.
Angel would have backed away even farther but Derryas plaster-encased leg prevented it.
aDidnat you sleep well?a Angel asked, searching Hawkas face.
aAs well as I ever do.a Hawkas voice was clipped, as cold as his eyes raking over her.
He turned and picked up a mug from the counter. Then he grabbed the coffee pot and poured a dark stream into the mug. As he took a sip of coffee, he eyed the omelet ingredients heaped colorfully on the counter.
aSit down,a Angel said quickly to Hawk. aHow many eggs do you want in your omelet?a aDonat bother.a Hawk gave her a dark glance. aIad hate like h.e.l.l to be spoiled for other women.a Derry made a choking sound that rapidly escalated into unrestrained laughter.
Angelas lips flattened in the instant before her normal control a.s.serted itself. She wished she could find Hawkas caustic comments as entertaining as Derry did. Instead, she forever seemed to take them personally.
aDonat be ridiculous,a Angel said, crossing quickly to the stove. aHow many eggs?a aSix.a Angel looked startled. She glanced covertly at Hawk and realized that he was even bigger than she had remembered. He had to be at least six foot three, lean, hard, and very male.
Somehow the casual clothing Hawk wore now revealed his size more than the civilized three-piece suit he had worn yesterday. The black pullover that fitted his chest so well was patterned after Irish fishermenas sweaters. Just standing there, he looked unreasonably large, his shoulders wide enough to block out the light.
He seemed taller, too, than yesterday, more . . . primal. Faded jeans fit snugly across his thighs and hinted at the muscular calves beneath. Soft-soled suede moccasins wrapped neatly around his feet.
But it was the power of his body that drew Angelas eyes, the deceptively slender line of his hips and waist blending into the male wedge of his shoulders.
aEverything zipped?a asked Hawk, too softly for Derry to hear.
Angel flushed.
aEverything except your mouth,a she retorted. But she was careful not to let Derry overhear.
A corner of Hawkas mouth turned up.
aYou arenat,a he murmured.
aWhat?a aZipped.a Angel looked down and discovered that Hawk was right. In her haste to get dressed, she had overlooked the zipper on her jeans. A ribbon of silky tangerine briefs showed through the narrow opening.
The reversal of the usual unzipped roles made Angelas irritation evaporate into a laugh.
Maybe Derry has the right outlook, she admitted silently. Hawkas abrasive, unexpected humor could grow on you.
Still smiling, Angel matter-of-factly zipped up her jeans. Then she turned to the counter and began cracking eggs into a bowl.
Hawk watched while Angel made his omelet with the casual skill that came only from experience. It didnat surprise him that she was an accomplished cook. Men liked being cooked for, and Angel was obviously a woman who had made a career out of pleasing men.
As Hawk sipped the rich coffee, he wondered how else she had learned to please men. The thought made desire ripple darkly through him. Smoothly, he changed the focus of his thoughts, knowing that his curiosity wouldnat be satisfied today. Probably not for several days.
Like a doe that enjoyed running the hounds, Hawk suspected that Angel would twist and turn and double back, tantalizing him by staying just beyond reach. Not that he minded. It only made the inevitable end of the chase sweeter, hotter.
Easy prey wasnat worth the trouble it took to reach out and pick it up.
In silence Hawk ate the tender, succulent omelet. The croissants were flaky, steaming as he pulled them apart, so rich with b.u.t.ter that his fingertips glistened. The jams were unique, tasting of fruit rather than sugar, and as colorful as jewels.
Out over the strait, the first hint of predawn light slowly transformed night into luminous shades of black and gray. Around Hawk there were the small, companionable sounds of silver clicking lightly against plates, the gentle thump of a coffee mug returning to the table-top, the creak of a chair as Derry shifted his weight, Angelas soft footsteps as she joined them at the table.
The peace of the moment seeped past Hawkas barriers, spreading through him as silently and completely as dawn itself. It had been a long, long time since Hawk had eaten breakfast like this.
Usually he was alone. When he wasnat, there was a woman trying to talk to him, words and more words pouring out as she tried to fill the emptiness that came the morning after the end of the chase. That kind of desperate chatter left Hawk cold. To be with people who demanded nothing of him was as unusual as it was peaceful.
And then Hawk heard his own thoughts. His lips flattened and he pushed away his empty plate.
Who am I trying to kid? Hawk asked himself sardonically. Of course Derry and Angel want something from me.
Money.
Angel isnat showing me Vancouver Island out of the goodness of her gold-digging little heart. If I buy Eagle Head, she will be well paid for her trouble.
And even if I donat, she should be able to make a tidy profit by padding the expenses.
The same is true for Derry.