A Gentleman's Bargain Page 5

  He smiled as the robust maid came into the room, carrying the first tray of the evening. Libby was in her midforties with graying hair. She was wearing the hotel's customary uniform, a dark navy dress and white apron.

  “Good evening, Mr. Monroe,” she said, sitting the tray down on the low, claw-footed table that occupied the space between two high-backed brocaded emerald green chairs. “When shall I start serving?"

  “Give me half an hour with the lady, before you interrupt,” he answered.

  Libby nodded, then left the room. A discreet knock on the door that led into the main corridor of the second floor brought Garrett around. He assumed a relaxed stance as Andy opened the door and escorted Claire Aldrich inside.

  “Good evening,” he said, taking a step forward as his guest's eyes went wide. The room always impressed people, and Garrett found himself wondering just how much of life young Miss Claire had experienced so far. Not enough by the look of her, he decided. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the expensive furnishings and the fact that they would be eating dinner alone.

  Claire managed to find her tongue. “Good evening."

  The Shurman home had been elegant, but Elizabeth Shurman had, like most women her age, been obsessed with knickknacks and clutter. Claire had searched for years for an inch of shelf space that wasn't occupied. In many ways the house had resembled the lady, since Claire couldn't think of a time when Mrs. Shurman's own person hadn't been cluttered with pearl necklaces and heavy jeweled brooches.

  This room was different. The furnishings were undoubtedly expensive, but they had been placed with careful thought to the human eye. The table was in exact proportion to the size of the room, which Claire realized wasn't all as large as it seemed. The candelabra looked like it belonged in a London palace along with the crowned jewels. The draperies and carpet matched perfectly. The man standing a few feet in front of her seemed completely at home in the lush décor that surrounded him. Claire felt like a fish out of water.

  As Andy closed the door behind him, Garrett reached for the blue and gold paisley shawl that covered Claire's shoulders. She flinched at the slight touch of his hands, then relaxed when she realized her reflex had been insulting. It was perfectly acceptable for a gentleman to help a lady remove her wrap.

  “I wondered if you'd come,” Garrett said, hiding his smile as he draped the shawl over the back of a walnut armchair. “I'm glad you did."

  Claire licked her lips, unaware that the gilt-framed mirror revealed her every move to the man standing behind her. “I'm anxious to discuss the position you mentioned earlier today."

  “There's plenty of time for that,” Garrett told her, walking to the tray that Libby had brought in earlier. The sight of Claire's pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips had him thirsty for more than liquor. He calmed the unexpected rush of desire by telling himself that Evelyn was waiting for him at the cottage. Whatever sexual satisfaction his body required could wait until after dinner.

  A vintage French champagne was among the bottles on the silver tray. Garrett poured two glasses and handed one to Claire. “Sip it slowly,” he said. “And relax. I'm a banker, not a cannibal."

  “Some people might say they were one and the same,” Claire retorted. She'd assumed that they would be having dinner in the hotel's main dining room. She'd never expected the quiet elegance of a private suite.

  Garrett's laughter surprised her. “I assure you I don't eat young ladies for dinner."

  Claire didn't look convinced as she raised the glass to her mouth and tasted the champagne. It had a lighter, sweeter taste than the wines Mrs. Shurman had served with dinner.

  Garrett knew that Claire was nervous. What he didn't know was why it excited him to have her at his mercy. Normally he detested young inexperienced women who giggled and hid behind their eyelashes. But Claire Aldrich was different. Something about her enticed him in a way he'd never been enticed before. He looked at her and liked what he saw. Her dress was a deep royal blue with an ivory lace skirt panel trimmed in black velvet. The lace pattern was repeated on the bodice that covered her upper chest and throat. The sleeves were long, which meant she wasn't wearing the gloves that most women favored for evening wear. The dress hadn't been fashioned in New York or Paris, but it suited her slender form, as did the soft ringlets that framed her face.

  It was a lovely face, Garrett decided. Much lovelier than he remembered and he realized that Claire was one of the few women who didn't cover their natural complexions with powder. Her skin was soft and creamy with just a hint of color in her cheeks. Her mouth looked more kissable than ever and her eyes glowed in the soft candlelight. Garret smiled without realizing it.

  Claire smiled back.

  “Would you like to see the view?” he asked.

  Claire nodded, once again stricken with an inability to speak. She remained silent as Garrett took the glass from her hand and set it aside. He motioned her toward the French doors at the opposite side of the room and she was thankful that he didn't touch her. There was something strangely intimidating about him, but it wasn't a fearful intimidation and Claire's female senses, inexperienced as they were, warned her that she mustn't give him the impression that she was interested in more than a job.

  Garrett unlatched the French doors and pushed them open, revealing a long narrow balcony. Claire stepped outside, instantly awed by what she saw. The balcony overlooked a small courtyard, but it wasn't the silhouette of the well-trimmed trees and marble benches that caught her attention. From the balcony it looked as if the whole of San Francisco had been laid at her feet. Thousands of gaslights gleamed like golden stars, outlining the streets that crisscrossed the city like strings on a tennis racket. Parlor windows gleamed like tiny diamonds up and down the hills that bordered the bay. The night air cooled her skin and Claire leaned her head back to get a better look at the moon. It was full and bright and rimmed by silvery clouds that made the night seem almost magical.

  “It's beautiful,” she said in a whispery voice.

  “Very beautiful,” Garrett replied, looking at Claire. The moonlight added a new dimension to her features and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  He'd meant the evening to be a job interview. Making a mental note not to forget that important fact a second time, Garrett forced himself to look out over the city.

  “Tell me more about your brother,” he said.

  Claire found herself smiling again. Maybe Andy was right. Maybe Mr. Monroe was just the man she needed to help her find Donald. He surely had contacts in the city, people who could ferret out things that it would take her months to discover.

  “What do you want to know?"

  “Does he drink? Gamble?"

  “He's a man,” Claire laughed. “What do you think?"

  Garrett found himself smiling at her candor. “What about friends? Did he mention any in his letters?"

  “None that I can recall,” Claire replied. She treasured each and every letter Donald had ever written and she'd read each one dozens of time. Her brother had written her about the places he'd gone, not the people he'd met.

  Garrett got the impression that Claire didn't know a great deal about her sibling. Trying to be tactful, he asked a few more questions. None of Claire's answers were very helpful. When she finally mentioned that she hadn't seen her brother in almost seven years, Garrett felt certain that the elusive Donald Aldrich wasn't the sort of man to be responsible for his sister even if his whereabouts were discovered.

  “Donald favors our father. He has brown hair and brown eyes. He's not as tall as you. But he always looked big to me."

  “Most men would,” Garrett said simply. “You're a tiny little thing."

  “I'm not that tiny,” Claire said, thinking he meant childlike.

  His eyes slid over her and he found himself once again forgetting the reason he'd invited her to dinner. He was struck by the subtle quality of her innocence and the contradicting flair of defiance in her catlike eyes.
The combination was more intriguing as his gaze moved slowly downward, taking in the soft curves of her body. Chastising himself for his inability to keep his mind on the business at hand, Garrett stepped back. “I promised you a sampling of the chef's roast duck. Shall we eat?"

  Claire nodded and went inside. For a moment she thought that Garrett was going to kiss her. His eyes had turned a soft, smoky gray and in that brief second she'd felt something. Something intangible, but very real. Something that warned her to proceed very carefully where this man was concerned or she could end up with more than a lost brother. If she wasn't careful, Claire knew she could lose her heart to the San Francisco banker.

  By the time Libby served the main course, roasted duck glazed with a sweet orange sauce, Claire was beginning to feel slightly more comfortable in her surroundings. Garrett made conversation easy and she found herself telling him about her life in Cincinnati and how she'd shocked Mrs. Shurman by buying a bicycle.

  “You'll see them in the parks around the city,” Garrett told her. “But our hills keep them from being very useful for more than Sunday afternoon entertainment."

  “I'm used to hills,” Claire replied. “Cincinnati isn't exactly flat. It has seven hills, just like Rome."

  “Can you name them?” Garrett teased.

  The champagne was having its desired effect and Claire was relaxing enough to talk to him. Everything he'd learned so far confirmed his first impression. She was the perfect candidate for a fraudulent fiancée.

  Claire laughed. “Mount Adams, Mount Auburn, Mount Washington, Mount Carmel, Mount Airy, Mount Healthy, and Mount..."

  “Mount something or other.” Garrett smiled, as Claire sipped on her second glass of champagne.

  “I'll think of it,” she mused, squinting her eyes as she concentrated. The name was on the tip of her tongue. It must be the champagne, she decided. Or maybe it was the company? “Mount..."

  “You can tell me tomorrow,” Garrett said, smiling. “Would you like some dessert?"

  “No, thank you,” Claire told him. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow?"

  “That depends on if you say yes or no to my job offer."

  “Your job offer?"

  Garrett nodded as he pushed back his chair and stood up. As much as he'd like to keep refilling Claire's champagne glass, he didn't want her tipsy when he presented his job proposal. He rang the service bell, summoning Libby. When the maid appeared, he requested coffee.

  Claire held her breath as Garrett pulled her chair back so she could leave the table. Although he didn't touch her, his proximity was unmistakable. She could smell the subtle scent of his cologne and feel the faint brush of his breath over her temple. His nearness prompted a deep, almost painful sensation in Claire's chest, as if her lungs had forgotten how to breathe. When Garrett stepped back, the feeling didn't go away for several more seconds, and she wondered if the champagne had heightened her senses or dulled her wits. Either way, Claire knew she had to put some distance between herself and the San Francisco banker. The balcony doors were still open, so she went outside, thinking the night air might have a soothing effect on her befuddled nerves.

  Claire was so shaken from the unexplainable feelings swirling around inside her that she clutched the wrought-iron railing like a lifeline. Garrett had been a perfect gentleman all evening, but beneath the pleasant dinner conversation she'd sensed a storm brewing. Having him announce that the job she so desperately needed was actually a position working for him added a dose of apprehension to the excitement she'd felt since walking into the private suite.

  While Claire took some air to dispel the effects of the champagne, Garrett poured two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to Claire's before joining her outside. Seeing her standing in the moonlight accelerated the sexual tension he'd been feeling all evening until he had to question what he was about to do. It was going to take all his talent to convince Grams that he was seriously in love with the young lady he presented as his fiancée. Accepting that meant he also had to accept the sexual frustration he knew he was going to suffer having Claire within reach. It had been a long time since he'd had to abstain from having a woman if he wanted her, and Garrett couldn't deny that he wanted Claire Aldrich.

  He took a moment to weigh the consequences of what he was about to do before he stepped through the French doors and joined Claire on the balcony. She accepted the china cup with a softly spoken thank you, then turned back around to look out over the city.

  “The position you mentioned,” she finally said. “Is it in your bank?"

  “No."

  She eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Another hotel?"

  Garrett shook his head slowly.

  Claire hesitated. The only thing left was a position in Garrett's home. Suddenly the thought of being a maid became distasteful. The idea of touching linens still warm from the heat of his body made her heart skip several beats.

  “The position I have in mind is a bit out of the ordinary,” Garrett said, trying his best to conduct the conversation the same way he would any other business meeting.

  “How so?” she prompted.

  Garrett moved a step closer and Claire felt as if he were engulfing her. Her reaction was silly, since he was standing a good three feet away, but she couldn't push it aside. His eyes narrowed as he watched her take a sip of coffee and she wondered what he was thinking. For the second time that evening, the penetrating strength of his gaze seemed to soften and Claire found herself immobilized by the peculiar sensations racing up and down her spine like tiny bolts of lightning.

  Garrett took a drink of black coffee to clear his head of the tempting thoughts that seemed synonymous with Claire Aldrich. When he spoke it was in the same deep, authoritative voice he used at the bank. “Like you, Miss Aldrich, my family is limited to only one relative. In my case, the relative is my grandmother."

  Claire's curiosity peaked. A dozen questions formed on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't dare ask them yet. Garrett was standing tall and the tone of his voice was all business.

  “Grams is a formidable old woman with a heart of gold."

  “Grams?"

  “That's what I've always called her,” he explained. “I'm not a boy any longer, but old habits are hard to break."

  “I think it's sweet,” she commented, as her mind conjured up the image of a little dark-haired boy crawling into his grandmother's lap. Somehow the fantasy made Garrett seem less intimidating.

  “She'll be seventy-nine on her next birthday and her mortality is catching up with her. Her heart isn't strong and her doctor has advised lots of rest."

  “I see,” Claire replied, thinking she did. She'd told both Garrett and Mr. Landauer that she'd been a companion to Mrs. Shurman in Cincinnati and now Garrett wanted to hire her to perform a similar function for his ailing grandmother. Part of Claire was relieved that he didn't need a maid, but on the other hand ... She wasn't entirely sure how to describe the mingled emotions that included both anticipation and apprehension. Being a companion meant that she'd be living under the same roof as Garrett's grandmother, and Claire had read enough about the esteemed family and its legendary matron to know that Garrett lived in the same house as Theodora Monroe.

  “Then the position you mentioned involves caring for your grandmother?"

  “To some degree,” Garrett said. “Actually, it's a little more complicated than fetching tea and writing letters."

  “I'm not a nurse,” Claire said, once again thinking that she understood the direction he was taking her. “But I did take care of Mrs. Shurman on a daily basis. Toward the end, she was almost an invalid and she seemed to prefer my company to that of anyone else."

  “Grams isn't an invalid,” he said, smiling as he recalled the way his grandmother had teased him about the cottage on Bartlett Street. He searched for the words, then decided if the arrangement he planned had any chance of succeeding, it demanded a certain degree of honesty between himself and the lady he wished to hire.

/>   “Perhaps I should stop and clarify a few things,” he began again. “First of all, I admire you for deciding to stay in San Francisco to find your brother. Most young women, when faced with your circumstances, would return to the place they called home."

  “When I find Donald, I'll find my home,” Claire said, surprised by Garrett's expression of admiration. “Family is home."

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Which is why I'm willing to do almost anything to make what remains of my grandmother's life as pleasant as possible."

  Claire wasn't sure how to respond so she didn't say anything. She sipped her coffee and waited for Garrett to finish his explanation.

  “Like most women,” he continued, “my grandmother is convinced that my complete happiness won't be obtained until I marry and have a family."

  Claire smiled. “My mother was the same way. She always complained that Donald needed to come back to Cincinnati and settle down."

  “What about you, Miss Aldrich? Most young women would agree with their mothers. Did you leave someone behind in Cincinnati?"

  Claire shook her head. “I have no desire to marry, Mr. Monroe. At least not yet."

  He smiled. “Then we have something in common. I'm not inclined to marry, either. In fact, I'm almost certain that I never will."

  The conversation was taking a personal turn and Claire wasn't sure how to reply.

  “As I said, I have no desire to marry, but my grandmother is determined to see me happily married before she departs this world for the next, which brings me back to the job I mentioned this afternoon. It seems I can do you a favor, Miss Aldrich, and you in turn can do one for me."

  Claire was getting confused and this time she couldn't blame it on the champagne. Garrett was talking in riddles.

  “You need funds to remain in the city and look for your brother. And I need a fiancée who can convince my grandmother that she's willing to take responsibility for my future happiness."

  Claire's coffee cup stopped midway to her mouth. She looked at Garrett for a moment, unsure if he was adding another riddle to the conversation or explaining the first one.