Читать книгу The Delacourt Scandal - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 11

This was going to be much more difficult than she’d anticipated, Maddie concluded as she drove slowly away, trying to calm her jittery nerves after that unexpected kiss. She should have seen it coming, should have steeled herself against it. After all, wasn’t Tyler’s easygoing flirtatiousness one of the very reasons she’d chosen him as the best Delacourt to approach?

However, her instantaneous reaction was a warning. She had to get a grip, find some way to avoid being alone with him on hot, sultry nights that held the promise of romance in the air. Otherwise this investigation of hers was going to get very dicey.

And, unfortunately, that wasn’t the only potential problem she’d discovered tonight. She’d also realized that the man didn’t trust her. Apparently she wasn’t nearly as good at deception as she’d hoped to be. He’d watched her suspiciously from the instant she’d arrived on his doorstep, then deftly skirted many of her questions. Obviously, she was going to have to work harder to gain his trust.

Of course, the worst glitch of all, the most unexpected was the fact that she instinctively liked him. Hormones were one thing, but actually relating to the man was something else entirely—and in some ways even more seductive and dangerous. Tyler was a funny, low-key kind of guy, surprisingly unpretentious for a man with the Delacourt wealth and standing in the community. Under other circumstances…

She caught herself before that particular thought could take shape. The circumstances were what they were. She couldn’t let herself like Tyler, or any other Delacourt. If that meant reminding herself that they were the enemy a hundred times a day, then that was exactly what she had to do. She was up to her fiftieth reminder so far tonight, and the message apparently wasn’t getting through.

Unfortunately, she was as certain as ever that Tyler was the key to getting what she needed. All of her preliminary research indicated that his brothers and his sister were leading exemplary lives. And since Tyler was the only remaining bachelor, he was the only one who was readily accessible to her. It had been easy enough to discover his usual routine, the places he tended to haunt. O’Reilly’s was one, but there were more locations where she was certain she could bump into him “accidentally” to keep the contact alive.

After all, if there were skeletons in anyone’s closet, Tyler would know. Whether she could get him to reveal the information was something else entirely. Although he’d given a cursory sketch of the various family members willingly enough, he had definitely balked whenever she’d pressed for details. Was that natural reticence, protectiveness of their privacy…or something more? Were there secrets he was trying to guard?

During her first couple of years in journalism, Maddie had gotten used to being in an adversarial position with some of the people she interviewed. She was putting them on the spot, asking them about things they might not want their neighbors to read about over their morning coffee. She’d developed a technique for disarming them, straightforward honesty tinged with sympathy. She told them up-front that, like it or not, the story was going to appear in the paper, but she was giving them a chance to shape it in their favor by telling their side. It almost always worked.

She could hardly do that with Tyler. Unlike the everyday assignments she’d had for her first small daily newspaper, she had to work undercover on this one, get as much information as she could before approaching Bryce Delacourt armed with the facts that would bring him down or, at the very least, publicly humiliate him.

But as she’d learned tonight, the deception was definitely going to be trickier than she’d anticipated. It went against her natural penchant for the truth, which was what had brought her into journalism in the first place. But in this case she was convinced that the end justified the means. She tried not to dwell on the fact that the saying originated with Machiavelli, the princely advisor renowned for his duplicity.

Remember the goal, she reminded herself sternly. Retribution, revenge…whatever it was called, it was going to make a few uncomfortable weeks of staying in Tyler Delacourt’s face—a few weeks of lying to him—worthwhile.

When she reached the small but well-furnished apartment that Griffin Carpenter had arranged for her, she opened her purse and took out the tiny, voice-activated recorder. Flipping on the tape, she listened again to Tyler’s description of his family. Despite herself, she was filled with an inexplicable envy. He had grown up surrounded by the kind of love, the kind of security, she and her brothers should have had, the kind Bryce Delacourt’s arrogant, hard-hearted actions had cost them.

An image of the Delacourt family portrait, taken last Christmas, flashed in her head. She had been struck by how happy they’d looked. She’d almost been able to hear the sounds of teasing and laughter as the camera recorded the moment. And in the center of the group sat Bryce Delacourt, the subject of their devotion, the man they all looked up to.

What a contrast to her own holiday season last year. Her mother’s funeral had been held the day after Thanksgiving. Maddie hadn’t even been able to locate her brothers to notify them. She had stood all alone beside the grave, mourning the woman she had really lost years before.

That was the moment she had formulated her precise plans for bringing down the Delacourts. The rest of the holidays had passed in a blur. She had spent the intervening months looking at back issues of newspapers around the state trying to determine which one might be open to such an exposé. Hard Truths, as distasteful as she found its tactics and reporting to be, had clearly been her best shot.

Remember the goal, she had reminded herself a dozen times as she had placed that first, fateful call to Griffin Carpenter to arrange an interview. It appeared she was going to have to repeat that refrain a lot before all was said and done.

When her tape of the conversation with Tyler ended, she began making notes of everything else she could recall about the evening, from the decor of his apartment to his sexily rumpled appearance. She tried not to linger too much over the latter because it kept bringing her back to the kiss, and that was definitely not a memory she wanted to encourage.

“Think, Maddie,” she ordered herself sternly. “Did he say anything, anything at all that could be a lead?”

It was less what he’d said than what he hadn’t said, she finally concluded, thinking of his curt responses to many of her questions. Then there was the fact that he’d clammed up about that baby picture. That was promising.

Who was it? she wondered. Not a niece or nephew. He’d said that much. Then why not just say it was a cousin or a friend’s child or any of the other myriad innocent explanations he could have given? Why had he looked as if he’d wanted to snatch it out of her hands?

Could the child be his? He’d never been married, according to her research, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t fathered a child. An illegitimate Delacourt baby wasn’t the scandal she’d been hoping for, but it would make for some great headlines just the same.

Even as the thought occurred to her, she winced. It wasn’t Tyler Delacourt she wanted to bring down or embarrass. It was his father. The baby picture might be a lead, but if it turned out to be linked to Tyler, would she use it just because he and Bryce shared the same last name? She honestly didn’t know.

And for one tiny moment she wasn’t sure she liked what that said about her or this path she was heading down.

After nursing a single beer for an hour at O’Reilly’s and giving the bar owner a good deal of grief about sending Maddie on her supposed mission of mercy, Tyler eventually went home. To his surprise, the apartment felt a whole lot emptier. Had that brief visit by Maddie counteracted years of solitude here, made him yearn for the female companionship he’d lost after Jen’s death? This apartment had always been a bachelor pad, a retreat. Even before he’d met Jen, he’d rarely brought a woman here, preferring to visit his dates at their homes. This place had been his sanctuary.

So why, suddenly, was he so restless in his own world? Was it because of the woman whose lips had been warm and yielding under his? Or was it simply because of the decision he’d been alternately wrestling with and avoiding for the past few days?

He was still holding the same internal debate in the morning. Because he’d tired of it, he grabbed up the newspaper and headed down the block to a restaurant that specialized in strong coffee and greasy food. Today he needed eggs, bacon and hash browns, not gourmet bran muffins or whole-wheat pancakes. Maybe once he was fortified with a hearty breakfast, he’d be able to handle a meeting with his father. Maybe he’d even produce a compromise they could both live with.

At nine o’clock the place was still bustling with its own form of blue-collar power breakfast. The waitresses were sassy, the service quick. Tyler had a steaming plate of food in front of him before he could scan the front-page headlines. He had company before he could taste the first forkful.

“Looks dangerous,” Maddie observed, staring at the eggs swimming in butter and the strips of crisp bacon.

Tyler thought she looked a whole lot more dangerous in her snug-fitting tank top and thigh-skimming skirt. Her hair looked as if she’d done little more than run her fingers through it. The effect was rumpled and sexy and had an effect on his pulse he didn’t like one bit.

“What brings you to a place like this if you don’t like the menu?” he asked.

“The coffee,” she said at once. “It’s lethal.”

He grinned at that. “It is indeed.” His gaze strayed over her formfitting outfit. “Going job hunting?”

She returned his gaze with an innocent expression. “You disapprove?”

“Darlin’, I could never disapprove of anything that shows your assets to such advantage, but it might just be a tad underdressed for the average office.”

“Maybe I’m not looking for an office job.”

“What, then? Or should I ask? Vice squad maybe?”

She frowned at him. “You do disapprove.”

Tyler wasn’t sure why he was making such an issue of it. What Maddie wore was none of his business. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that every man’s mouth had dropped open when she’d walked in. He’d instinctively wanted to wrap her in a blanket and bundle her off to some place out of view.

No, he corrected, what he’d really wanted to do was pummel those men until they thought twice about staring, then take her somewhere private and strip away the scanty attire she was wearing. Bad ideas, both of them.

“Just a little friendly job-hunting advice,” he said mildly. “First impressions count, and this isn’t freewheeling California or trendy New York. We’re in Texas, darlin’.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

To his surprise her eyes were bright with amusement as she sipped her coffee and watched him over the rim of the cup. He deliberately turned his attention to his food.

“So, what are your plans for the day?” she asked.

“As soon as I’ve eaten, I’m going to drop by the office.”

“Really?” She did her own slow survey of his jeans and dark-blue T-shirt. “A little underdressed for the executive suite, aren’t you?”

Tyler scowled. “Okay, touché. But unlike you, I already have a job, and I’m definitely well acquainted with the boss. I doubt he’ll fire me.”

Of course, as he’d told Daniel the day before, his father might very well grumble about his lack of attention to corporate image. Maybe that was why he’d deliberately chosen these particular clothes this morning, just to goad his father into remembering who he was: Tyler, not his clotheshorse brother Michael, who had standing appointments to have his suits custom tailored.

Maddie studied him, her expression thoughtful. “But you’d like him to, wouldn’t you?”

Tyler was startled by the observation. “Like him to do what? Fire me?”

“Yes.”

“Of course not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she probed. “You never really got into what it was that had you so down, but I’m guessing from a couple of offhand remarks you made that it has something to do with work. You apparently love working on the rig, yet you’re here. What’s that all about?”

“Command performance,” he said succinctly. “I’ll be back in the Gulf of Mexico in no time.”

“Really?”

One way or another, he would be, he decided right then. This constant push-pull for power between him and his father had to stop. Now was as good a time as any to make it happen.

“Really,” he said very firmly.

“Why do I have the feeling that you just came to a decision about something?” she asked.

“Because I did,” Tyler said, shoving his plate away and tossing down his napkin. He took one last swallow of coffee, then stood. “Thanks, Maddie Kent. Order something. Breakfast’s on me.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “Just because.”

“You’re a very enigmatic man, Tyler Delacourt.”

“I certainly hope so.” In fact, he’d always been the most tight-lipped of the Delacourts, the one who displayed a lot of flash and dazzle for the world but kept his innermost thoughts to himself.

Why, then, had Maddie Kent—a woman who’d known him for only a few days—been able to read him like a book? He had a feeling he’d better figure that out soon, before she zeroed in on things he’d never shared with anyone.

In the meantime he had his father to deal with. He arrived at Delacourt Oil twenty minutes later and went straight to his father’s office.

“You sure you want to go in there?” his father’s secretary asked. “You’ve been avoiding his calls. He is not amused.”

“All the more reason to get this over with,” Tyler said. “You might want to go to the coffee shop in case there’s fallout from the explosion.”

She winked at him. “I can take it. I’ve known the man since before you were born. He doesn’t scare me.”

“Then you’re the only one.”

Tyler drew in a deep breath and opened the door. His father was on the phone. He scowled at the interruption, but when he spotted Tyler, he muttered a curt goodbye to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Where the devil have you been?” Bryce demanded.

“Home.”

“Then why haven’t you been answering your phone or returning my calls?”

“I think that should be obvious.”

“Not to me. Explain it.”

“I didn’t want to have this conversation,” Tyler said honestly. “I didn’t want you to bulldoze right over me, the way you usually do.”

“Since when have I ever been able to get you to do a blasted thing you didn’t want to do?” his father said with a hint of exasperation. “There’s not a one of my kids who pays a bit of attention to what I want. And you’re the worst of all.”

“Aren’t you forgetting about Michael? He would walk through fire for you. He loves this company every bit as much as you do.”

His father waved off the reminder. “Where is he now? We’re in the middle of a critical negotiation.”

“He’s on his honeymoon. For once in his life, he put himself first. Surely you’re not going to fault him for that?”

His father flushed guiltily. “No, of course not. He married a fine woman.” His expression brightened ever so slightly. “And those two boys they’ve adopted, they’re something. Could have been born Delacourts. They’ll be a part of this company someday. Michael will see to that.”

“He probably will,” Tyler agreed.

“A man works his whole life to create something to leave to his children and what happens? Mine turn right around and throw the opportunity out the door.”

Tyler bit back a sigh. How many times had he heard this? A hundred? More? “That’s not how it is,” he said mildly.

“You see Dylan anywhere around here? Or Trish?”

“No, but—”

“Jeb might as well not be here,” his father complained. “He’s taking on more and more private cases, instead of learning the ropes here at Delacourt. And that corporate spy case he pursued for us turned into a fiasco.”

Tyler chuckled at his father’s interpretation of that particular event. “Whose fault was that, Dad? There was no selling of Delacourt secrets. You set Jeb up because you wanted him to fall for Brianna.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is, then?”

“That not a one of you show any gratitude at all for what I’ve built for you.”

“I repeat, Michael is here a thousand percent. Can’t you be satisfied with that? It’s no wonder he works himself to death. You take what he does for granted, and it’s never enough.”

“That’s absurd.”

Tyler leveled a look straight at his father. “Is it?”

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. You sound like your mother. She’s always on my case about showing more appreciation for the job he does.”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“Well, once you’re back here full-time, you’ll pick up some of the slack, take a little of the pressure off Michael.”

“I’m not coming back,” Tyler responded, quietly but emphatically.

His father reacted as if he’d uttered blasphemy. “Why the hell not?”

Tyler gave a resigned sigh. “You know why not, Dad. How many times do we have to have this conversation? I tried to do it your way. I’ve worked in every department in this place. The job I love, the one I’m suited for, is on the rigs.”

“That’s Corrigan’s influence talking,” his father said impatiently. “I knew it was a mistake letting you go over there and work for him.”

“This has nothing to do with Daniel.”

“It has everything to do with him. If the man had an ounce of gratitude in him, he’d follow my wishes and send my son packing.”

Tyler grinned ruefully. “Yeah, I heard you’d told him I wasn’t coming back.”

“And he couldn’t wait to run to you, could he?”

“Gee, he seemed to think it might be my decision to make. Now there’s a crazy notion, isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me, boy. I’m still your father.”

“I know that.”

“Then give me a little credit. I know what’s best for you.”

“No, Dad, you don’t. You know what you want for me, not what I want.”

“If it’s money you’re after…”

“Don’t be absurd, Dad. This isn’t about money. I know what you pay your top executives. It’s more than I could make working eighty hours a week for Daniel, and that’s saying something.”

“Then I just don’t get it.”

“I like the physical work, the challenge, being outdoors. I’d suffocate being cooped up in here all day.”

“Dammit, Tyler, working those rigs is dangerous. There was a time when I was learning the ropes that I did it, too. Came damned near to getting killed in a fire on one of them. Your mother would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”

Tyler saw the ploy for exactly what it was, a pitiful attempt by his father to shift the blame for his own hardheadedness onto his wife by suggesting that she was the one who feared for Tyler’s safety.

“Then I’ll just have to see that nothing happens.” He met his father’s gaze evenly. “And if you want me to, I’ll explain my decision to Mother. I’ll assure her you did your absolute best to keep me right here in Houston.”

For just an instant his father looked so thoroughly bewildered and defeated that Tyler almost relented. Then he stiffened his spine and his resolve. This was the way it had to be.

“Dad, this is for the best. Someday I’ll be too old to work the rigs. If I’m lucky, there will be a nice desk job waiting for me then.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Tyler matched his father’s scowl. “Would you rather I went to another company?”

Red patches darkened his father’s cheeks at the suggestion. “Maybe that would be for the best. It would get you away from the influence of that hooligan.”

Tyler wasn’t sure which of them was the most shocked by the response. “If that’s the way you really feel—”

His father’s anger dissolved. “Blast it all, Tyler, that’s not what I want! You’re a Delacourt. What would people think if you turned up working for one of our competitors?”

“That you and I had a falling out,” Tyler said readily. “They wouldn’t be off the mark, either.”

“Well, I’m not going to be fodder for anyone’s gossip. If you insist on risking your life, then you’ll do it on one of my rigs. They’ve got the best safety record in the business—Corrigan’s seen to that. The man costs me an arm and a leg with all his precautions.”

“Do you begrudge him the money he spends so that you can boast about your safety record?”

“Of course not,” his father retorted impatiently. “Do you have to twist everything I say?”

Tyler laughed. “Just imagine what I’d do if you had me underfoot every day.”

Slowly a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his father’s mouth. “I suppose there is a positive side to this ridiculous decision of yours. At least we won’t be butting heads on a regular basis.”

“Just holidays and special occasions,” Tyler suggested wryly.

“Better make it more often than that, or your mother will have my hide,” his father countered.

It was as near as Bryce Delacourt was likely to come to an admission of affection, and Tyler found it oddly moving. “We definitely can’t have that, can we?” he replied lightly. “Thanks for seeing it my way, Dad.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you? Go on, now, before Corrigan calls up and accuses me of stealing his best worker.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick around till the weekend, let Mother fuss over me a little. Daniel can manage without me a few more days.”

“That’ll make your mother happy,” his father agreed. “To tell you the truth, I won’t mind seeing you around the house a little more myself.”

His words surprised Tyler. It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting that he missed one of his children. Instead he chose to grumble about their desertion of the family business. For the first time Tyler realized that what his father might mean but couldn’t say, was that he hated the fact they’d drifted out of his life. Nor was he ever likely to admit that he might be the one who’d driven them away through his attempts to control them.

“Dad, you do know that we all love you, don’t you?” Tyler said. “That hasn’t changed just because we’ve chosen to go our own ways.”

For a fleeting instant he thought he detected the sheen of unshed tears in his father’s eyes, but before he could tell for sure, his father bent over the stack of paperwork on his desk.

“You be sure to stop by and see your mother,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”

Tyler hesitated, wanting to say more but not knowing exactly how. He settled for pausing beside his father’s desk long enough to give his shoulder a squeeze before leaving the office. As he closed the door behind him, he thought he heard Bryce sigh.

“You’re still in one piece. Everything must have gone okay,” his father’s secretary said, surveying him intently.

Tyler nodded. “Surprisingly well,” he told her.

So why was he leaving with the terrible sense that he had let his father down in some way he might never fully understand?