shook her head. “I’m fine, Sally.”
Sally smiled to herself. “Yeah, I guess you are at that,” she murmured under her breath.
The doorbell rang just as she was about to disappear into the kitchen. With a sigh, she turned on her heel.
Marlene glanced at her watch. The private investigator was early, though not by much.
He had said that he might be late because of the traffic. The infamous El Toro Y, located south of her home, tended to knot up between the hours of three-thirty and seven. Since he had to come from that general direction, he’d obviously allotted extra time.
Or maybe all the holiday shoppers were out at the malls and not on the freeway today, she mused. She waved Sally back to the kitchen.
“Don’t bother. I’ll get it,” she told her as she passed Sally on the way to the door.
Bony shoulders rose and fell. “Suit yourself. My pay’s the same whether I answer doors or not.” Sally moved back toward the kitchen, then stopped, hovering on the threshold between the two rooms as Marlene opened the front door.
He wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting, Marlene thought. As far as she knew, detectives weren’t supposed to arrive wearing expensive three-piece suits, but then, she thought ruefully, she’d been raised on TV detectives. Endearingly mussed PI’s who were filled with snappy patter and caught their man, half the time by accident, before the last commercial aired.
Marlene put out her hand. “Hello, I’m Marlene Bailey. You’re early.”
As if in a trance, Sullivan took her hand. Whatever he’d been going to say flew out of his head. Her words had caught him completely off guard.
As did her appearance. She was the most pregnant woman he had ever seen. At least, the most pregnant woman he had ever seen from such a close vantage point. But that wasn’t what had words curling up on his tongue. The woman was gorgeous.
Not only that, but she had class written all over her, from her tilted cleft chin to her tailored, pale blue suit. It was the kind of class that came from bloodlines, from pampering and from never having to worry about paying bills, no matter how large they were.
Why would a beautiful woman have to resort to a sperm bank in order to conceive a child?
“I am?” he finally said, mystified by her reaction. How could she have been expecting him?
Unless, he suddenly realized, the woman at the Institute had had a change of heart and called her, warning her that he was coming.
Marlene had made up her mind not to feel awkward about this. All the way home from the office, she had rehearsed what she was going to say to the investigator. Though she suspected that her request did not exactly run along the lines of the mundane, she was certain that he probably dealt with a great many strange requests. And successfully, if his clothes were any reflection of his track record.
She glanced expectantly over her shoulder at Sally. Muttering, the older woman withdrew. Marlene led the man into her living room.
“Yes, I didn’t expect you for a while.”
She did know, he thought. The Riley woman must have told her he was coming. Dollar signs were probably dancing in her head.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman before him. Unaccountable disappointment washed over him. He’d thought himself securely jaded by now, but this situation generated a really bad taste in his mouth. She looked honest, genuine and, despite her very obvious condition, pure. So much for first impressions.
“Then this isn’t a surprise?” he asked darkly.
He was acting very odd, Marlene thought. “No, why should it be?” she asked. She gestured toward the sofa. The entire room was done in light pastels, complementing the airy effect created by the cathedral ceilings.
Following her lead, Sullivan sat down, waiting for her to continue.
They hadn’t talked about his fee on the telephone, and she thought it best to get that out of the way first. “Perhaps we should get the financial end of things cleared up first. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that you would find to your liking.”
She knew who he was, all right, he thought. The woman had nerve, he would give her that. She didn’t look like an operator, but then, maybe that was how she had acquired this house to begin with. You just never knew.
“To my liking,” he repeated.
Every word tasted like acid on his tongue. If his brother hadn’t already been dead, he would have wrung Derek’s neck for putting him through this. It was beyond him how he could have ever worshiped Derek when they were both younger, how he had actually envied him his freedom. It was only later that he had recognized that desire for freedom for what it was. Pure, selfish recklessness.
Marlene was beginning to have second thoughts about hiring this man. Maybe she should have researched his credentials a little more thoroughly. He really was behaving very oddly.
“Well, yes,” she said slowly. “It’s only fair that we both get something from this arrangement.”
He leaned back, his arms crossed before him. “And just what do you expect out of this arrangement, Ms. Bailey?”
Was he kidding? “I expect you to deliver, of course.”
She was referring to the money. Didn’t waste any time, did she? Sullivan pressed his lips together grimly. “Of course.”
She had the definite impression that he was mocking her. The man had to be doing very well indeed to be so high-handed. Still, he did have an impressive track record, according to one of the VPs at her company.
“I mean, I realize that these things can’t be guaranteed, but you do have a reputation.”
Now they were getting down to it. “Yes, I do.”
Why was he scowling at her like that? He was a very handsome man, but he looked like Zeus about to unleash a thunderbolt on a group of mortals who had displeased him.
She squared her shoulders. “And I assume that there is some amount of truth in it.”
He nodded, prepared to concede very little. “To a degree.”
He was being awfully cagey. She wondered if this was his normal mode of operation, or if the fact that she was the head of a very successful ad agency had something to do with it. “Why don’t you give me a price, and then I’ll tell you what I think of it?”
He wanted to tell her exactly what he thought of her, but he managed to maintain his control.
“Why don’t you start the bidding?” he suggested genially, but his smile fell short of his eyes.
“Bidding?” Marlene repeated. What was he talking about? Didn’t he have set rates? She was beginning to smell a setup. Her doubts about him continued to escalate.
But he was here, and she might as well see this thing through. “All right, how does a hundred dollars a day sound?”
Was
