According to Courtney, the Bell Harbor Police Department had been featured on an episode of a series about “Real Police in Action” or something like that. Sloan had been part of a drug bust that was filmed while it was actually happening.
The videotape beckoned to Noah. This was his last chance to see it before he left. Courtney and Douglas were visiting Paris, and he was alone in the house. He walked over to the television set, turned it on and inserted the tape.
The television screen lit up, the tape began to run, and Noah felt a new surge of fury when he remembered he’d actually volunteered to teach Sloan to shoot so the “delicate little angel” wouldn’t be afraid of guns!
On the television screen, the “angel” was wearing a jacket with POLICE stenciled across the back, and she was crouched at the side of a police cruiser, a gun clasped between her hands, covering her buddies as they charged across the front lawn.
In the next film clip, Sloan wasn’t merely covering her pals, she was in the lead, running toward a building and flattening herself next to the front door, gun clasped in her hands, held high.
Noah hit the OFF button. He despised her in that videotape.
But if she hadn’t betrayed him, he would have thought she was utterly magnificent.
He remembered he’d left one report upstairs that he needed to take with him, and he went up to his office to get it so that he could leave. He was leafing through the files in his desk drawer when he heard voices coming down the hall. When he looked up Paul Richardson was standing in the doorway with Courtney on one side and Douglas on the other.
Douglas saw the ominous look in Noah’s eyes. “Noah, would you just listen to what Paul has to say?”
In reply, Noah reached for the telephone and pressed the intercom button. “Martin,” he said to his chauffeur/bodyguard, “I have an intruder in my office. Get rid of him.” He shifted his gaze to his desk, found the report he was looking for, and stood up, moving around his desk. “When I walk past you, Richardson,” he said as his father and sister wisely backed out of his way and a little down the hall, “if you so much as twitch, I will consider it an aggressive move, and I will delight in throwing your ass over that balcony. Do we understand each other?”
In response, the FBI agent stepped further into Noah’s office, shoved the door closed, and turned the lock, effectively blocking out Douglas, Courtney, and Martin, who was bounding up the stairs. Leaning his shoulders against the door to further prevent anyone from getting it open, Richardson folded his arms over his chest, and regarded Noah impassively for a moment.
On the other side of the door, Courtney and Douglas could be heard reassuring Martin that he wasn’t needed. Paul had no doubt that Noah was enraged enough and fit enough to take him on himself right now, but he was banking on the fact that Noah wouldn’t want to expose a fifteen-year-old girl to a violent scene involving himself, even if she could only hear and not see it. He was also banking on his ability to diffuse Noah’s wrath before he decided that Courtney had precipitated the scene and could pay the price by having to listen to a fistfight.
“Noah,” Paul said finally in a relaxed, conversational tone, “I’ve had a lousy two weeks. In fact, I haven’t been through anything like this in over five years.”
Noah leaned his hip on the front of the desk, a muscle drumming in his clenched jaw, his attention on the door behind Paul as he listened for an indication that Courtney was still out there or that she’d gone.
Paul knew it, and so he talked a little faster, and a little friendlier. “Do you remember the Zachary Benedict case from five years ago?”
Maitland’s gaze flicked contemptuously to him. No one was likely to forget the worldwide furor over the Academy Award-winning actor/director who’d been wrongfully convicted of killing his wife. Benedict had escaped from prison and taken a hostage named Julie Mathison, who’d fallen in love with him. Paul had recaptured him in Mexico when Benedict risked his freedom to rejoin Julie, and the violent scene in the Mexico City airport had been televised around the globe.
“I can see from your expression that you remember that debacle. I was the agent in charge of apprehending Benedict. I’m the one who took Julie Mathison to Mexico and used her as bait in the airport.”
“Tell me something,” Noah snapped, “do you ever go after anyone who is guilty?”
“Not in your case, obviously. And not in Benedict’s case either. I went to see Benedict when he was finally acquitted and released from prison after Mexico City, and I pleaded successfully on Julie’s behalf. He forgave her.”
“What the hell does this have to do with me?”
“I’m getting to that right now. You see, there were two major differences between Julie’s situation with Benedict and Sloan’s with you right now: Julie went to Mexico City to help me apprehend Benedict because I persuaded her that he was guilty. I would never have been able to persuade Sloan that you were guilty.”
Paul glimpsed a flicker of reluctant interest in Noah’s eyes and charged ahead. “In fact, I didn’t bother to try. Sloan came to Palm Beach with me to help me check out Carter Reynolds. She had no idea that I thought you were bringing in the cash that Reynolds was laundering for the cartel. I kept her in the dark for several reasons. One of those reasons was that Sloan is an idealist; she’s loyal and she is very smart. If she’d ever suspected I was using her to glean information that could be used against you, I think she would have blown her cover and mine to shield you.”
“Am I supposed to believe that?”
“Why would I lie?”
“Because you’re a conniving son-of-a-bitch.”
“Courtney shares your opinion,” Paul said wryly. “She phrased it a little more politely, but her tone and her meaning were identical. However,” he continued briskly, “that’s off the subject. I said there were two major differences between Julie Mathison’s and Sloan Reynolds’s situations. The second one is this: Julie felt guilty for betraying Benedict after she did it. She was willing to put up with Benedict’s fury and his refusal to see her or let her explain. Sloan, on the other hand, has nothing whatsoever to feel guilty about. She has as much pride as you do, so think carefully before you walk on it any longer.”
Paul shoved away from the door. “I know I’ve given you a lot to consider.” He glanced at his watch. “You have a half hour to decide whether or not to screw up your life and Sloan’s.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means she’s waiting for you on the Apparition. So give it some thought. She isn’t there to plead with you. She’d never plead. She wanted to tell you she was sorry about what happened and to say goodbye to you properly.”
Turning he reached for the door, then he stopped and turned halfway back. “There’s one more thing,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to marry Paris, and as I learned to my immense discomfort one night she has a surprisingly strong right arm.”
Maitland caught the gist of that. “She slapped you?” he concluded dispassionately.
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“I accused her of murdering Edith.”
“That sounds like a good reason to me,” he said with biting amusement.
“An hour before that, I also discovered that Sloan packs even more power and she’s quicker than Paris.”
Interest flickered in Maitland’s eyes. “Sloan slapped you too?”
“No. She nailed me with a right hook that almost sent me to the floor.”
“Why?”
Paul sobered. “Because she’d just found out I’d used her to get to you.” He’d said everything he could think of to say to vindicate Sloan, but when he searched Noah’s impassive face for a clue as to how he felt, his expression was completely unreadable.
Noah sat there after Paul was gone, thinking over what he’d said. There was no way of knowing for certain that the FBI agent was telling the truth about Sloan. There would never be proof. And yet, he did have proof. He’d always had it. The pro
of had been in Sloan’s eyes when she looked at him, in her arms when she clung to him, in her heart when she made love to him.
That was proof enough, Noah decided. He stood up, eager to see Sloan, and then a thought occurred to him and he started to laugh. Richardson was not going to get off free. After publicly damaging Noah’s integrity and shedding doubt on his character, Richardson was going to be stuck with Noah for a brother-in-law!
• • •
He was still smiling about that when he walked into the foyer and Courtney intercepted him at the front door. “I guess this is goodbye,” she said, looking somewhat subdued for Courtney. “Paul said he didn’t think anything he said made much difference to you. Don’t be angry with me for bringing him here, okay? I don’t want you to go away angry with me.” She leaned up on her toes and to Noah’s shock she put her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss goodbye.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually going to miss me,” he teased.
She shrugged. “I will.”
“Really? I didn’t know you even liked me.”
His suitcases were in the car already, and he reached down and picked up his briefcase. She was watching him, trying to detect his mood, Noah knew, and she was clever enough to pick up on something that was giving her hope. “I would like you a whole lot more if you’d forgive Sloan.”
Over her shoulder, Noah saw Douglas standing in the living room, watching him with the same hopeful expression on his face that Noah heard in Courtney’s voice. Eager to leave and see Sloan, Noah winked at his father and turned toward the door. “Well, okay if it would really make you like me a whole lot more.”
That was all she needed to hear. She started pushing her new-found advantage to the limits. “You know,” she added irrepressibly as he opened the door, “what I’d really like more than anything is if you’d marry Sloan and stay in Palm Beach.”
Noah laughed, wrapped his arm around her, and kissed the top of her springy curls. She took that as a “yes” and followed him out onto the porch. “Noah,” she called eagerly as he slid into the back seat of the car, “I’d make a really terrific aunt!”
His shoulders shaking with laughter, Noah closed the car door.
55
The helicopter’s rotor was still whipping when Noah reached the main deck, looking for Sloan. He passed one of the crew who was securing the deck furniture in preparation for getting under way, and rather than waste time looking for her, Noah said abruptly, “Is Miss Reynolds aboard?”
The crewman knew only three significant things about Miss Reynolds—the rumor among the crew was that she’d been a close friend of the FBI agent who’d caused his employer’s ship to be impounded; she’d been accused of murder; and she’d been brought aboard by his employer’s young sister who told the crew to keep her presence a secret. The man decided his safest course was complete ignorance. “No sir, not as far as I know.”
Noah nodded and frowning, he walked up the exterior steps to his stateroom. It would have been impossible for the launch or the helicopter to have arrived without the crewman on deck noticing that. Apparently, Sloan had changed her mind about coming to talk to him, which seemed very odd.
Shoving his hands in his pockets he stared at the king-size bed where he’d shared so many hours of stormy passion and quiet conversation with Sloan and he began to wonder how much truth there’d actually been in Richardson’s defense of her. The woman Noah had watched on that videotape wouldn’t have been afraid to confront him if she were innocent.
Sloan stood in the doorway behind him, working up her courage. She’d had a few hours to think about the reality of what had happened between them, and despite Courtney’s belief that Noah would be willing to forgive and forget, and everything would be rosy once he saw her, Sloan didn’t think that was true. This wasn’t a fairy tale. The reality was that she loved him with all her heart, but she had brought him nothing but public humiliation. The reality was that Noah had never said he loved her, he didn’t believe in marriage, and he didn’t want children. Besides that, they were from two entirely different worlds. The most she could hope for now was honesty during this last visit and perhaps, someday, his forgiveness.
She stepped forward, shaking with nerves, fortified with determination. Noah had his back to her, his hands shoved in his pockets, head slightly bent, as if he was lost in thought. “I came to say goodbye,” Sloan said softly.
His shoulders tensed, he turned around slowly, his expression unreadable.
“I came to ask you to forgive me, and I know that will take you a long time.” Sloan paused to steady her voice, her eyes pleading with him to believe her and understand. “I don’t blame you for how you feel about me. I wanted to tell you the truth so many times, but Paul was afraid you’d say something to Carter.” Trying to keep her voice from shattering with the love and sorrow she felt, she drew a long breath and then went on. “I should have told you anyway, because I knew in my heart you wouldn’t. But in a way, it’s best that things came to such a quick end for us. It would never have worked out for us.”
He spoke for the first time. “It wouldn’t?”
“No.” She gestured toward the elegant stateroom. “You’re you . . . and I’m . . . me.”
“That’s always been a tremendous drawback for us,” he said, straightfaced.
Sloan was so shaken that she didn’t catch the thread of amusement in his voice. “Yes, I know, but that wouldn’t have stopped me from falling more hopelessly in love with you every day. You don’t want marriage, and I would have wanted to be your wife.”
“I see.”
“I love children,” she said achingly. Tears were blurring her vision so badly that she could hardly see him.
His gaze on her, Noah reached down slightly and pulled the cover back on the bed.
“And you don’t want children.”
He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.
“I would have wanted to have your baby.”
He unbuttoned the next button. . . .
EPILOGUE
Every table in the exclusive Palm Beach restaurant was occupied and people waiting for tables were crowded into the bar and in the foyer at the front.
The telephone at the maitre d’s desk rang and he picked it up. He listened to the caller, frowning because he couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry, who is it you wish to speak to?” he asked, cupping his hand over his free ear in an effort to block out the noise. “Yes, the Maitland party is here now. I’ll call her to the phone.”
The maitre d’, whose name was Roland, was new at the Remington Grill. He located the table reserved for the Maitland party on his chart, then he threaded his way through the restaurant to a table at the back.
Three women were seated there: One of them was a stunning blond in her early thirties; one of them was an elegantly dressed blond in her late forties who looked enough like the other woman to be her mother; and one of them was a dark-haired teenager in an appalling outfit who didn’t look like she belonged with the other two women or amidst the exclusive clientele of the Remington Grill, either.
Since Roland wasn’t certain whether the caller had asked for Mrs. or Miss Maitland, the maitre d’ took the safe path. “Pardon me, Ms. Maitland,” he said to the three laughing females. “I have a telephone call at the desk for you.”
All three women looked inquiringly at him.
“For which one of us?” the teenager inquired.
“For Ms. Maitland,” Roland emphasized, a little annoyed at the trouble he was being put through.
“You’re new here, so let me explain,” the teenager said pertly, clearly relishing his predicament. “You see, I am Miss Maitland, and this”—she nodded to the younger blonde—“is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Noah Maitland. And this”—she indicated the older blonde— “is my sister-in-law’s mother, who is Mrs. Douglas Maitland. However,” she added, laying down her trump card with a mixture of glee and pride, “she is also, my mother.”
; Roland’s brows levitated with suppressed ire. “How delightful.”
Sloan slid her chair back and took pity on the man. “That call is probably for me. Noah telephoned from Rome and said he might be able to come home tonight instead of tomorrow.”
• • •
Noah walked quietly upstairs and deliberately surprised his three-year-old daughter in her bedroom. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, rushing toward him in her robe and pajamas while the housekeeper disappeared into an adjoining room. “You’re back early!”
Normally, Noah would have swept her into his arms, but he was hiding a present for her behind his back, so he grinned at her instead.
“Aunt Courtney was here today!”
“I can tell,” he said tenderly.
She tipped her head to one side and it made her long blond corkscrew curls dance. “How can you tell?”
“Your dreadlocks.”
• • •
Sloan found Noah on the terrace with their daughter on his lap. They were sitting in the moonlight, whispering about something. “Daddy’s home!” Ashley exclaimed.
Noah looked up and saw Sloan, and his eyes were warm with love and a silent greeting.
“We’ve been telling secrets,” Ashley confided. Beaming, she leaned close for Noah to whisper another secret to her. Then she looked at him and said, “Can I tell Mommy that one?”
“Yes,” Noah said solemnly.
Ashley matched his tone. “Daddy says he loves you very, very, very much.”
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