As understanding dawned in his eyes; they darkened with exasperation. “It isn’t what you’re thinking. Brenda is Bud’s wife, the partner I just lost. She’s lonely and needs company.”
“Especially at night,” Rachel suggested, un-touched by his explanation. “Consoling widows must be your specialty.”
She nearly succeeded in wrenching free of his hands, but he caught her again and turned her around, half pushing and half carrying her along with him as he headed for the hallway by her chair. The receptionist was watching them with wide-eyed wonder, a silent and curious observer of the virulent scene being played out before her.
“You are going to listen to my explanation whether you like it or not,” Gard informed her in an angrily low voice as he marched her past a secretarial pool and a short row of offices.
“Well, I don’t like it, and I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say!” she hissed, conscious of the curious looks they were receiving. She stopped resisting him rather than draw more attention.
“That’s too bad,” he growled and pushed her into a large, executive-styled office with windows on two sides and a healthy collection of potted plants. “Because you’re going to hear it anyway.” The door was shut with a resounding click of the latch.
The minute he let go of her, Rachel moved to the center of the room and stopped short of the long oak desk. She was hurting inside and it showed in the wary gray of her eyes. When he came toward her, she stiffened noticeably. His mouth thinned into a grim line and he continued by her to the desk. He picked up the phone and pushed a button.
“Tell Carol to come in and give me a report on her progress so far,” Gard instructed and hung up.
Turning, he leaned against the desk and rested a hip on the edge of it. His level gaze continued to bore into Rachel as he folded his arms and waited silently. Long seconds later there was a light rap on the door.
“Come in.” He lifted his voice, granting permission to enter.
A young brunette, obviously Carol, walked in with a pen and notepad in her hand. Her glance darted to Rachel, then swung apprehensively to her employer.
“I’m sorry, but I still haven’t been able to locate her,” she began her report with an apology. “A couple of people have recognized the name as someone in the business, but they couldn’t refer me to anyone. I’m almost through the L’s in the Yellow Pages. I never realized there were so many furniture stores in the metropolitan area of Los Angeles.”
It was Rachel’s turn to stare at Gard, searching his face to make sure she was placing the right meaning on all this. A look of hard satisfaction mixed with the anger smoldering in his eyes.
“Thank you, Carol,” he said to the young girl. “You don’t have to make any more calls.”
“Sir?” She looked worried that he was taking the task from her because she hadn’t made any progress.
“Since you’ve spent so much time on this, I thought you should meet Rachel MacKinley.” Gard gestured to indicate Rachel.
“You found her!” Her sudden smile of surprise was also partly relief.
“Yes.” He let the girl’s assumption stand for the time being while his gaze remained on Rachel. “By the way, Rachel, would you mind telling Carol the name of your furniture company?”
It was suddenly very difficult to speak. Her throat was all tight with emotion. It was obvious that Gard had been looking for her, but she still had some doubts about what that meant.
“The Country House.” She supplied the name in a voice that was taut and husky.
“The T’s.” The girl shook her head in faint amazement.
“Thank you, Carol. That will be all.” Gard dismissed the girl. There was another long silence while she exited the private office. “Now do you believe that I’ve been trying to locate you?” he challenged when they were alone again.
“Yes.” It seemed best to keep her answer simple and not jump to any more conclusions.
“I jotted my flight schedules on the back of the slip of paper you gave me with your address and phone numbers on it. It was late when I arrived back in L. A. I didn’t pay close attention to what was in my shirt pockets when I emptied them. All I saw were the flight schedules on the paper. I didn’t need them anymore, so I threw the paper away. It wasn’t until a couple of days later when I was looking for your phone number that I realized what had happened. By then my cleaning lady had already been in and emptied the wastebaskets.”
The explanation was delivered in a calm, relatively flat voice. It was a statement of fact that told Rachel nothing about his feelings toward her. Nothing in his look or his attitude offered encouragement.
“I see,” she murmured and lowered her gaze to the beige carpet, searching its thick threads as if they held a clue.
“Information informed me that you had a private, unlisted number, so that only left me with the fact that you owned a furniture company,” Gard stated. “I pulled one of the junior typists out of the pool and had her start to phone all the stores listed under the furniture section of the Yellow Pages and ask for you.”
“I thought it was possible that you had somehow lost my number,” Rachel admitted slowly. “That’s why I came by today.”
“But you also thought it was possible that I didn’t intend to call you,” he accused.
There was a defiant lift of her chin as she met his unwavering gaze. “It was possible.”