Carla Neggers - Tempting Fate

That could mean anything, and she suspected he knew it. “My manager tells me you’re a professional white knight.”

He gave a short laugh. “I’ve never thought of it quite like that.”

“You’re not looking at a potential client, in case the thought crossed your mind.”

The dark eyes narrowed. Suddenly self-conscious, Dani ran one hand through the pink geraniums in a marble urn, looking for a wilted blossom. There wasn’t one, so she snapped off one that was still healthy.

“Was your being in my garden a coincidence?” she asked.

“I didn’t rob you.”

A man of few but well-chosen words. Dani didn’t know what to make of him. “If you think you saw an opening to get yourself hired to protect me or some such thing, you’re wrong.”

There was a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Honey, I’d rather protect a pack of pit bulls.” But the humor vanished; he became, once again, calm and steady, utterly in control. “I’m not in Saratoga on business, if that’s what you’re getting at. You want to tell me what happened at your cottage?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You surprised your thief, didn’t you? He pushed you from behind-I take it you didn’t see him. Did he get away with anything of value?”

“Nothing much.” She wished she hadn’t come out here. She imagined Zeke Cutler was very good at what he did.

“Did he snatch your gold key?”

Dani controlled her surprise. So Zeke Cutler had read the article on her. Was that why he’d come to Saratoga, to the Pembroke? Had he robbed her after all? Or had he staged the burglary to get her to hire him? She saw that her hand was shaking and pulled it away from the geraniums; she clenched it at her side so he wouldn’t see.

“That’s not your concern,” she said.

“I suppose it isn’t.”

“If I find out you are a leech,” she said, “I’ll have you thrown off my property.”

He stretched out his long legs. “Fair enough.”

“Meanwhile-” she managed a gracious smile that would have done any Chandler proud “-enjoy your stay at the Pembroke.”

Having survived tea and being called a professional white knight, Zeke headed into town for something real to eat. Dinner at the Pembroke had included flowers. His waiter had promised they were edible. Zeke had passed. Besides which, he had an appointment to keep.

Roger Stone was waiting for him on the terrace at a hopping restaurant just off Broadway that did, indeed, serve hamburgers. A good-looking man in his mid-forties, Roger had taken over as vice president of Chandler Hotels after his brother-in-law-Dani Pembroke’s father-was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was now president and chief executive officer; Zeke had checked. Roger rose, and the two men shook hands.

“It’s good to see you,” Roger said, as if they’d seen each other since the summer his wife’s sister had disappeared, which they hadn’t.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“I’d begun to wonder if you’d gotten my message.”

It had come to Zeke’s room at the Pembroke, before he found himself ducking Dani Pembroke’s mineral water bottle. “Word travels fast. How’d you hear I was in town?”

Roger shrugged evasively. He was fair and tall and fit, with angular features, pale blue eyes and impeccable taste in everything. His suit, Zeke noticed, was custom tailored. He himself had put on a fresh shirt but had left on his jeans. “A friend arrived at the airport the same time you did. It’s a small airport. And half the fun of coming to Saratoga is keeping track of who else is here.” Roger had already ordered a bottle of wine; he poured Zeke a glass. “But I suppose if you’d wanted to keep a low profile, I’d never have found out you were here.”

True, Zeke thought.

“Does that mean you’re not here on business?” Roger asked.

Zeke smiled. “Just here for health, history and horses, as the saying goes.”

“But you’re staying at my niece’s hotel…or whatever she calls that place of hers.”

“It seemed as good a place as any.”

Zeke tried his wine. It was, of course, an excellent choice. A waiter took his order for a hamburger. Roger wasn’t eating. “Sara and I have a dinner party later this evening.”

Sara, Sara. Zeke wondered what she looked like now, if she was happy. Had she regretted picking Roger, one of her own kind, over Joe? Even twenty-five years ago, from what Zeke could gather the couple of times he’d met him, Roger Stone had been wealthy and polished, an Ivy Leaguer, everything Joe Cutler wasn’t. Joe had known it and hadn’t cared. He’d never understood things like social class and the gulf between the Cutlers of Cedar Springs, Tennessee, and the Chandlers of New York City, Kentucky and Saratoga.

“Zeke, I…” Roger paused, exhaling, not meeting Zeke’s eyes. “I’m sorry about your brother. He had such promise.” He winced, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That sounds patronizing, and I don’t mean to patronize.”

“It’s okay. And thanks. Why did you ask me here?”

He smiled thinly. “I’d heard you were one to cut to the heart of things. It’s a delicate matter. About Danielle, in fact.”

Danielle. Zeke could see her shining black eyes, the fear behind them. But if Roger was looking for a reaction, he didn’t get one.

“Frankly, Sara and I are worried about her-something we dare not let her realize. She’s independent to a pathological degree, in my opinion. But we do care about her.”

“Worried in what way?”

“I’m not sure-we could be overreacting. Rumors have been circulating all summer that she’s overextended herself, but I see no real evidence of that myself. And she’s coming tomorrow night.” He said it as if Zeke would automatically know what tomorrow night was, which he did. “She hasn’t attended since her mother…well, you know.”

“Anything else?”

He shrugged. “Nothing specific. We just don’t want anything to happen to her.”

A sentiment, Zeke had a feeling, that would just irritate the hell out of Dani Pembroke. His hamburger arrived, without flowers. He poured on the ketchup and dug in. “You’re worried she’s going to prove herself a true Pembroke and let everything she’s accomplished go up in smoke.”

“As a matter of fact, yes, that is what worries us. Zeke, Danielle’s as reckless as any Pembroke’s ever been. Her risks just aren’t at the poker table. We’re afraid-Sara and I, and Eugene as well-that she’s going to self-destruct.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

A faint sheen of color rose in Roger’s pale cheeks. “I’d like you to keep an eye on her.”

Zeke tried not to laugh. What would Roger do if he knew his niece had come after him with an iron skillet only a few hours ago? Obviously her sweet, caring uncle had no idea she’d surprised a burglar. “That’s not what I do.”

“The pay would be substantial.”

“I don’t care about the pay, Roger. I don’t babysit heiresses.”

“Oh, she’s hardly an heiress any longer. She saw to that herself years ago. Zeke, please reconsider.”

“The Chandlers must have all kinds of security people at their disposal. Hire one of them.”

Zeke swallowed another bite of hamburger, drank some wine and considered what Roger Stone really wanted from him. A sense of why Zeke was in Saratoga? If Dani was up to something, about to bring more embarrassment on the Chandlers?

“Why don’t you talk to your niece yourself?” Zeke suggested.

Roger laughed, incredulous. “Obviously you don’t know Dani. She doesn’t want anything from her mother’s side of the family-she’d be furious if she knew we were worried, knew I was talking to you. That I was willing to hire you on her behalf. The point is, she has enough on her plate.”