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  Granted, funerals were emotional occasions, but this was more than the somber mood one would have expected at the loss of a boss. There was a restless impatience in Joel Blackstone. Letty could feel it. It burned in his tawny gold eyes and vibrated along every line of his lean, hard body.

  He seethed with it, although he was masking it well beneath a layer of cool self-control. There was anger burning in him, too. Letty could feel it, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

  Angry men were dangerous.

  The sense of potentially explosive power in Joel was underlined by the fiercely molded planes and angles of his face. It was a savage face, Letty thought, a face that reflected the ancient hunting instincts that by rights should have lain deeply buried in a modern, civilized man. They were clearly much too close to the surface in Joel Blackstone. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties, thirty-six or thirty-seven, perhaps. Something about him looked and felt far older, however.

  Letty was torn between a nearly overwhelming curiosity and an equally strong sense of caution. She had never met a man who managed to make her wary in quite this manner. It was a primitive sensation.

  “How long did you work for my great-uncle, Mr. Blackstone?” she finally asked politely when the silence got to be oppressive.

  “Nearly ten years.”

  “I see.” Letty moistened her lips. “He, uh, spoke highly of you. Said you were very sharp. He thought you had a certain instinct for business.”

  “Yeah. I had an instinct instead of an M.B.A.” Joel flashed her a brief amused glance. “He spoke highly of you, too, Ms. Thornquist. Said you were a bright little thing.”

  Letty winced. “I don't think Great-Uncle Charlie was very much impressed by academia. He always treated it with a sort of indulgent condescension.”

  “He was a self-made man. He didn't think too much of the ivory tower life.”

  “And neither do you, I take it?” With effort, Letty kept her tone polite.

  “Charlie and I had a few things in common. That was one of them.”

  Letty pursed her lips. “Not exactly. I think you feel actual disdain for it. Charlie was not disdainful.”

  “Is that right?” Joel did not sound particularly interested.

  “Charlie raised my father after my grandparents died. It was Charlie who financed Dad's education all the way through graduate school, you know. So you see, he couldn't have been completely disdainful of the academic life.”

  Joel shrugged. “Charlie believed in letting people do what they wanted with their lives. All he asked was that they leave him alone so that he could go fishing as often as possible.”

  “Yes, I guess that's true, isn't it?” So much for trying to ease the tension with idle conversation, Letty thought. She wondered what sort of woman Joel Blackstone dated. Surely if he had a wife he would have brought her to the funeral.

  Whoever his woman was, she would have to be a very sensual creature, Letty decided. A man like Joel would want a woman who could respond to him in a very physical way.

  Of course, she reminded herself, most men wanted that sort of woman. Even Philip, whom she'd thought would not be quite so demanding, had needed a more responsive woman. It was fortunate for all concerned that she had discovered that fact during their engagement rather than after the marriage had taken place.

  “How long will you be out here on the Coast, Ms. Thornquist?”

  “You may call me Letty.”

  “Sure. Right. Letty. How long?”

  “I don't know yet.”

  Some of Joel's superficial control dissolved for an instant, revealing a hint of the restless impatience Letty sensed churning inside him. “What do you mean, you don't know?” Joel glowered at the narrow, winding road through the Jeep's windshield. “Don't you have to get back to that college where you work?”

  “Vellacott?”

  “Yeah, Vellacott, or whatever. Don't you have to get back to your job?”

  “No.”

  “But Charlie said you worked in the library there.”

  “I did. Reference desk. Nearly six years.” Letty gripped the dashboard. “Would you mind slowing down a little?”

  “What?” Joel threw her a scowl.

  “I said, would you mind slowing the car a little,” Letty repeated carefully.

  “Your father's already pulling ahead of us. Nice car, by the way.”

  Letty glanced at the red Porsche convertible. It was moving swiftly, clinging to the twisting road like a limpet. Morgan had the top down, and Stephanie's silver-gold hair was secured beneath a white scarf. Stephanie looked good in white, Letty reflected. It suited her ice-maiden beauty.

  “The Porsche belongs to Stephanie,” Letty said. “My father drives a BMW.”

  Joel cocked a brow. “You sound as if you disapprove. Got something against nice cars?”

  “No. It's just that it's a little odd to have a stepmother who drives a candy red Porsche,” Letty admitted, “when the most exciting thing I've ever driven is a Buick. Please slow down. You don't have to worry about getting lost. I know how to get to their house.”

  Joel eased his foot off the accelerator. “You're the boss.”

  Letty smiled, pleased at the sound of that. “Yes, I am, aren't I? It feels very strange, you know.”

  “Inheriting a company the size of Thornquist out of the clear blue sky? Yeah, I can see where that might feel a little weird.” Joel's hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Tell me, Letty, do you have any experience in the business world?”

  “No, but I've read a great many books and articles on the subject since I learned that Great-Uncle Charlie left me Thornquist Gear.”

  “Books and articles, huh? You know, Letty, there's quite a difference between the business world and an academic environment.”

  “Is there?” She studied the scenery. Twilight came early in the Cascades, she noticed. The heavily forested terrain was already turning dark and mysterious as the last of the sun disappeared. She was accustomed to wide open spaces and gentle rolling hills. These wild, aggressive mountains were a bit overpowering. Just like Joel Blackstone.

  “A world of difference,” Joel said pointedly. “I don't know if Charlie ever mentioned it to you, but he and I had a sort of unofficial understanding.”

  “Did you?”

  “I was going to buy him out in another year.”

  “Were you?”

  Joel flicked her another quick sidelong glance. “That's right. Look, I know it's a little too soon to talk about it, but I want you to know I'm still prepared to go through with the deal. I'll continue to run the company for the next year, just as I have for the past ten years. Then, when I've got the financing in place, I'll cash you out. How does that sound?”

  “The turnoff is up ahead on the right.”

  Joel's jaw tightened. “Thanks.”

  He slowed the Jeep and obediently turned off the river road onto an even tinier one that led into the trees. The structure of glass and wood at the end of the lane was a cabin in name only. By anyone's standards it was a lovely and expensive home.

  “You can park behind the Porsche,” Letty said.

  “Nice place,” Joel said, casting a knowledgeable eye over the sleek lines of the house. “I didn't know professors got paid enough to afford Porsches and weekend cabins like this.”

  “My father is one of the country's leading experts on medieval philosophy. By temperament and training, he is himself a fine logician. My stepmother has written some of the most important papers being published today on syntactic and semantic analysis.”

  “So?”

  Letty was amused. “So they are both brilliant analytical thinkers. It gives them an edge when it comes to making financial investments.”

  “I'll keep that in mind the next time I want some advice on the stock market,” Joel said. He opened the Jeep door and got out. Then he started around the hood to open Letty's door.

  Letty saw what was happening and scrambled out on her own. She
did not want Joel getting the impression that just because he worked for her, he was expected to wait on her hand and foot. She had a feeling things were going to be difficult enough as it was between herself and Joel Blackstone.

  Letty walked hesitantly into the gleaming kitchen and saw Stephanie at the sink. “Can I help?” she offered, already knowing what the answer would be.

  “No, thank you, Letty.” Stephanie smiled her cool, serene smile as she peeled shrimp. “Everything's under control in here. Why don't you go out and visit with your father and Joel?”

  Everything was always under control with Stephanie. Letty wondered what it would take to ruffle the glassy smooth surface of her stepmother's glacial poise. “All right. If you're certain there's nothing I can do.”

  “I'll call you if I need you,” Stephanie promised.

  “Well, if you insist. What are you preparing?”

  “Black linguini with shrimp and mussels.”

  Letty blinked. “I don't believe I've ever had black linguini. Do they use food coloring to make it black?”

  “Heavens no.” Stephanie looked startled. “Squid ink.”

  “Oh.” Letty retreated from the kitchen.

  Stephanie would not call for assistance, Letty knew, because she would not want anyone else in her pristine, orderly world. Too much risk of a mess, no doubt.

  Stephanie was a gourmet cook. This did not surprise Letty, because she had learned very quickly that everything Stephanie did, she did with a high level of expertise. What amazed Letty about Stephanie's cooking was that she turned out truly exotic fare without creating so much as a ripple of disorder on the surfaces of her steel and white tile kitchen.

  Morgan was talking to Joel near the seven-foot windows when Letty entered the living room. He glanced at his daughter.

  “Ah, there, you are, my dear. We were just about to open a bottle of Yakima Valley sauvignon blanc. I think you'll like it.” He turned to Joel. “Letty hasn't spent much time out here in the Northwest yet. We're trying to educate her palate.”

  “I am told Seattle is a foodie town,” Letty said dryly.

  Joel shrugged. “I don't know about that, but we like to eat. And we like to eat well.”

  “So I have been given to understand. All right, Dad. I'm ready to try your latest discovery.” Letty sat down on one of the white leather sofas. She noticed Joel stayed near the window, gazing out over the night-darkened forest.

  “This one is a genuine find, I'm pleased to say.” Morgan went to work at the small bar built into the far end of the living room. “Great depth and finesse. Very subtle. Quite sophisticated, actually.”

  “Sophisticated” was a word Professor Morgan Thornquist would never have applied to a bottle of wine in the old days. Letty was still coming to terms with the changes she was witnessing in her father.

  Some of them were good, she conceded. He had shed the extra twenty pounds he had carried for as long as Letty could remember, and he'd given up his pipe. He looked healthy and happy, and there was a new spring in his step. There was no denying he was thriving out here in the Pacific Northwest.

  For the most part Letty was happy for him. But as far as she was concerned, the decision to start a second family at Morgan's age was taking things too far. She still could not believe she was going to have a baby brother soon.

  “Here we go.” Morgan drew the cork from the bottle with a flourish. “Excellent color, don't you think, Joel? Letty, let me have your glass.”

  Letty got up and handed her father the long-stemmed wineglass. Morgan filled it before setting it down on the lacquered Art Deco coffee table in front of the sofa.

  “None for Stephanie, of course,” Morgan said. “She won't touch alcohol again until after Matthew Christopher is born. How about you, Joel?”

  Joel, who was standing near the window, studying the magnificent view, glanced at the wine bottle. “Any beer in the kitchen?”

  Morgan smiled. “Of course. I kept the refrigerator stocked with Charlie's favorites. You know how he liked his Northwest-brewed beer and ale.” He raised his voice. “Stephanie my dear, would you bring Joel a bottle of that good ale we picked up last month at that new brewery in north Seattle?”

  Stephanie appeared almost immediately in the doorway with a bottle and a glass. “Here you are, Joel.”

  “Thanks.” Joel ignored the glass and accepted the bottle. “To Charlie.” He took a long swallow.

  “To Charlie.”

  “To Charlie.”

  “To Charlie.”

  Letty took a sip of the sauvignon blanc and surveyed the platter of vegetables that sat in the center of the lacquered table. She was familiar with most of them, although she noticed one or two odd-looking items. She dunked a peapod in the dip.

  “What is this?” she asked politely. “I don't recognize the flavor.”

  “That's a tahini- and tofu-based dip I whipped together,” Stephanie said. “Do you like it?”

  “Very interesting,” Letty said. She moved on to a little dish of deep red spread surrounded by crackers. “And this?”

  “Just a little something I make using sun-dried tomatoes. I'll give you the recipe if you like.”

  “Thank you,” Letty said formally, aware that everyone was watching her with varying degrees of amusement.

  “Do you like sashimi?” Joel asked a little too politely.

  “Back home we bait fish hooks with sashimi,” Letty said.

  Morgan laughed indulgently. “Everyone eats sushi and sashimi out here on the Coast. Isn't that right, Joel?”

  Joel nodded slowly, his eyes on Letty. “There are sushi bars on every third corner from here to Vancouver. And the corners that don't have sushi bars usually have Thai restaurants. But I imagine Letty prefers beef.”

  Stephanie looked immediately concerned. “Oh, dear, Letty, you aren't still eating red meat, are you? Nobody eats red meat anymore.”

  “Well, we don't eat a lot of raw fish back in Indiana, either. I read an article that said there's a risk of worms in raw fish. They cause a very unpleasant illness that can be extremely difficult to cure.”

  “Nonsense,” Stephanie said as she started back into the kitchen. “Statistically, the chances of getting contaminated fish are extremely small if one is careful to eat in good-quality restaurants.”

  Morgan looked at Letty. “Why don't you tell us what your plans are now that you have your own business?”

  “Actually, I've been giving that a lot of thought.” Letty paused to take another sip of wine. She could literally feel the seething tension vibrating close to the surface again in Joel. He had clearly gone on high alert. She realized with a trickle of dread that she had never been more aware of a man in her life. It was a very disconcerting sensation.

  “Go on, Letty. Tell us what you've been thinking,” Joel said softly, his eyes intent.

  “I've come to the conclusion that I need to make a few changes in my life,” Letty murmured. “This inheritance from Great-Uncle Charlie could not have come at a better time. It might almost have been fate. On the plane trip out here I decided not to go back to Vellacott.”

  Morgan looked astonished, but vastly pleased. “Well, well, well. I'm glad to hear it. You're not normally the impulsive type, my dear. What were these changes in your life that you made on the spur of the moment?”

  Letty munched a sliver of toast slathered with sun-dried tomato spread. “I've broken off my engagement to Philip, I've quit my job, and I've decided to move to Seattle and take over the reins of Thornquist Gear.”

  The sharp crack of glass exploding on hard tile drew everyone's attention. Letty glanced across the room to where Joel had been standing by the window and saw that he had dropped his bottle of ale.

  Joel looked up from the shards that glittered at his feet. His eyes burned like those of a tiger in the night as he stared straight at Letty.

  “Sorry,” Joel said very softly, his tone devoid of any emotion. “An accident. Don't worry. I'll clean it up.�
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  2

  Joel came awake in a cold sweat, fragments of the dream still far too clear in his head. He could see the car going over the cliff and sinking into the sea. His father's face appeared, as it always did, at the window on the driver's side, fingers clawing at the glass, eyes staring wildly at his son. Joel could see him screaming as the car sank below the surface. There was no sound, but Joel could hear the words in his head as his father shouted at him.

  “This is all your fault,” he had yelled.

  All your fault.

  Joel lay still for a moment, orienting himself to his strange surroundings. The sighing of the wind in the trees outside the window brought him back quickly to reality. He threw aside the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed.

  He was having the dream more often these days. He did not need a shrink to tell him why. He was on the verge of taking revenge after fifteen years of waiting, and all the old feelings were awakening and starting to churn inside him. With any luck he would stop having the damn dream when everything was finally finished. Only a few more weeks and it would all be over.

  In the meantime, he knew from experience that he was not going to get back to sleep until he had worked off some of the adrenaline. Back home in his own apartment in Seattle, he would have worked out on the equipment he kept in the spare bedroom. Unfortunately there was no treadmill, stationary bike, or weights here at the Thornquists' mountain place.

  There was, however, plenty of room to run. Joel put on his jeans and running shoes, picked up a towel from his private bathroom, and headed down the hall.

  He sensed that Letty was awake when he went past her bedroom, but he paid no attention until he realized she had gotten out of bed and followed him into the living room. Her soft, startled voice caught him just as he was unlocking the sliding glass doors.

  “Where in heaven's name are you going? It's one o'clock in the morning.”