The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [20]
Her shaking hand sent the ice tinkling as she put down her glass. My God, she thought, then the rumors are true. Russia and America are fighting for possession of the Ivanoff emerald—at any price. But why? And why had they let someone else beat them to it? Could there really be billions in the Swiss banks? Was that what they were after? Then what about the other whispers, that there was something else they all wanted? Smoothing her black skirt, she stood up. There was only one way to find out. As she walked from the bar and across the hall to the restaurant, she was uncomfortably aware of Valentin Solovsky’s speculative dark eyes following her.
“Hi.” She flashed Cal a suddenly friendly smile as she stopped by his table. “Mind if I take you up on that offer to join you? It’s kind of lonesome being stranded in a snowstorm. All alone in a foreign country … you know what I mean?”
“I sure do.” He leapt to his feet as the maître d’ pulled back the table and she slid into the banquette next to him.
The waiter filled Genie’s glass with champagne. She picked it up and raised it in a mock toast. “Celebrating?” she asked innocently.
Cal grinned. “Now that you are here, I am.”
She propped her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. “Oh, come clean, Cal,” she whispered seriously. “You bought that emerald today, didn’t you?”
He clasped his hand to his chest in mock-horror. “Why would I do a thing like that? Anyway, I couldn’t afford it on a White House salary. I’m only a poor kid from New Jersey.”
Their eyes locked and she said, “You bought it on behalf of the U.S. government. The rumors are true after all.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ve got the wrong guy, Genie, and the wrong rumor.”
“Oh, let’s talk about it later,” she said, pushing-her hair from her face with a nervous gesture. “I’ve had a hard day and I’m starving.” She looked at the elaborate menu and sighed. “I’m incapable of making any more decisions. What I’d really like is comfort food, ribs and fries—at Monty’s.”
The waiter looked pained and Cal laughed. “Why don’t you let me order for you?” He spoke to the waiter quickly, then turned back to her on the banquette. Their eyes met. Nice eyes, she told herself, like a red setter’s—no, the comparison was unfair. Sure, they were the same color, but his were shrewd. And she’d bet they could be hard when he wanted. She shivered suddenly. There was something about Cal Warrender that warned her he could be a tough adversary.
“I think you’ll find the food comforting enough,” he said lightly, “but I promise you I’ll take you to Monty’s when we get back to Washington.”
“Monty’s is in L.A. It used to be my favorite place when I was a kid.” She sighed. “It’s a pity our expectations of pleasure have to change when we grow up … from ribs and fries to oysters and truffles, milk shakes to champagne.”
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s not a bad swap….”
They laughed and he patted her hand encouragingly. “I’ll tell you a secret. You look more upset than I do, and I’m the guy who didn’t get the emerald.”
“You’re kidding!” Her eyes widened with astonishment as she stared at him. “Then who did?”
Cal shrugged, nodding in the direction of the door. “Maybe our friend Solovsky?” he suggested.
“Then it is true,” she murmured, watching as the Russian made his way through the restaurant to a table opposite them, in direct view but too far away to overhear. Solovsky bowed to them before taking his seat.
“I don’t know about true, but I’ll tell you something else strange,” Cal said. “Solovsky is alone.” Her eyebrows rose in a question and he explained, “Important