Contract Bride. Debra Webb
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true, she’d outwitted a would-be killer, run for her life, found a way to disguise herself and gotten the hell out of Dodge all on her own.
Impressive, he had to admit.
But, damn, she looked so young. Especially dressed as she was. He gritted his teeth and forced away the things he shouldn’t think about…like that smart and too sexy mouth of hers. Her lips had a daring little pucker to them…one that begged to be kissed, even if it was clearly unintentional. She was small, but emanated an air of strength. She’d sure surprised the hell out of him. In more ways than one.
On a more professional note, if she wasn’t Jennifer Ballard, she was certainly someone high up at BalPhar or a well-trained spy for one of their competitors. In his estimation, she knew far too much not to be from the inside. And if she wasn’t Jennifer, where was the real Jennifer Ballard?
Necessity had never posed the occasion for him to visit Ballard Pharmaceuticals before. He was impressed with the place. The building sat in the middle of a large compound, fifteen or twenty acres at least, a good twenty miles from any real civilization to speak of. Security was top-notch. Ten floors and a basement defined the structure. The architecture presented a very futuristic feel with sleek lines and angles, but with an underlying cold, stainless-steel edge.
If Jennifer Ballard had grown up in this cool, seemingly untouchable environment he wondered how she had developed any emotions at all. The austere feel of the place didn’t sit well with him. But he was still collecting data, physically and mentally. He wouldn’t make any judgments just yet.
“Mr. Delaney,” the well-polished, efficient-looking secretary said, her voice a perfectly modulated pitch, “Dr. Crane will see you now.”
Ethan wondered if she’d taken voice lessons to achieve that flawless inflection. “Thank you.” He stood and nodded once in her direction, then turned toward the door a few feet away that opened into the junior VP’s office. He wondered then if Crane would remember him. He almost laughed. Ethan supposed he would. It was difficult to forget the man who’d saved one’s life. He should know, Crane had saved his as well. The three days and nights they’d spent together making their way across that desert were permanently imprinted upon his brain. No way he could ever forget. Death had stalked them both in more than one form. Ultimately, they’d saved each other.
Crane was standing when Ethan entered his office. “Ethan, what an honor to have you here. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He clasped Ethan’s hand and shook it heartily the moment Ethan had extended it. “How long has it been?”
“Too long.” Ethan smiled. Crane had done well for himself. He still looked fit and had aged well. Lots of men in his line of work would have grown soft and maybe even gained a spare tire. But not Crane. He looked in excellent physical condition, seemed very much in charge. “It’s good to see you, too, Dr. Crane,” Ethan said after his quick visual assessment.
Crane waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Call me David. After what we’ve been through together, formalities are a slap in the face. Have a seat. Please.”
Ethan sat down in one of the lavish leather chairs facing Crane’s desk. “Looks like you’ve moved up in the world,” he commented as he glanced around the luxurious office. A wall of windows presented a picturesque view near the long conference table on the other side of the room. From this level, everything for miles around sprawled across the landscape in a sea of lush green forests interrupted only by a narrow, curving road that led back to the city. The office furnishings were ornate, the decorating classic. It was nothing like the rest of what Ethan had seen in the building.
“From a desert in Iraq,” Crane nodded “I’ve definitely moved up.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have to say, I like it a lot better here.”
Ethan laughed. “I’ll bet you do.” An expensive-looking abstract oil painting hung on the wall behind Crane’s desk. The colors were so vivid it almost looked three-dimensional. The artwork nagged at Ethan, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on precisely what it was that bothered him.
“May I get you something to drink?” Crane offered, gesturing to the tray on the massive mahogany sideboard near the conference table.
Ethan dragged his attention back to the man and said, “No. I’m good.”
Crane propped his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. “My secretary tells me you’re with the Colby Agency now. BalPhar has done business with Victoria Colby for years. Sounds as if you haven’t done so badly yourself.”
“It’s not that different from what I used to do,” Ethan allowed, and that was true to an extent.
Crane nodded. “I can imagine.” He frowned then. “You know, I have a meeting in a few minutes that I, unfortunately, can’t reschedule, I think we should have dinner this evening and talk about old times,” he suggested, his frown reverting to a smile. “You can tell me what you’ve been up to since you saved my life all those years ago.”
Ethan searched Crane’s expression and posture for any sign of deception, but found none. “I wouldn’t have been able to get you out of that desert if you hadn’t saved my life first.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Crane admitted with a nonchalant lift of one shoulder. “But I would never have gotten out of there, period, without you. I was a dead man.” He pressed Ethan with a fiercely sincere gaze. “You saved my life. I owe you for that.” He smiled again, pushing aside the intensity he’d just displayed. “So tell me what I can do for you. Anything. Name it.”
Crane looked straight at Ethan, his gaze open, honest. The man Ethan had known all those years ago would not have been able to conceal lies so well. Surely he had not become a master of deception in the intervening time. Jennifer Ballard had to be wrong. Or maybe this was some sort of setup. There was no way to tell yet who was setting up whom.
“I’m investigating a small research facility for one of your competitors,” Ethan explained, laying out the cover he’d assured his client would prevent any questions as to why he was at BalPhar. “Alexon wants to buy out Camden, but they’re not certain it’s a wise investment. I’m sure you’re familiar with Camden.” He paused for effect. “Do you know anything that might make a difference as to whether Alexon proceeds? I know I’m taking a risk letting you in on what Alexon has planned, but I felt I could trust you.”
Crane pressed his chin to his steepled fingers and considered the question as well as Ethan’s final profound statement. “We’ve worked with Camden from time to time and never had any problem. Their reputation is solid, but financially they’re on the rocks.” A frown furrowed Crane’s brow. “However, financial woes aside, I didn’t know they were for sale. I am surprised at that. Howard Camden always swore he’d never answer to anyone else.”
Ethan smiled. “Camden doesn’t know it just yet.”
“Ah-ha.” Crane nodded knowingly. “A hostile take-over. Interesting.”
“Alexon wants the heads-up on a new cancer drug Camden’s got in the works.” Ethan shrugged, feigning disinterest. “You’d know more about that kind of thing than me. It’s some sort of cell-neutralizing agent related to cancer treatment. Big money-maker, I’m told, for the company that comes out with it first.”
Crane stilled, but showed no other outward indication of uneasiness or suspicion. “Really? I hadn’t heard about that either. Do you know if they’re ready to go public?”
There was the ever-so-slightest hint of wariness in Crane’s last question. Ethan had struck a nerve. Ethan flared his hands in feigned innocence. “Nah, that’s all I was told.” He narrowed his gaze on Crane. “So, you think Camden’s a good investment?”
There was something different in Crane’s eyes now. Ethan considered vaguely that maybe Crane was calculating how he could buy Camden first. Too bad it wasn’t really for sale. And Camden definitely didn’t have the cell-neutralizing drug in the works. The head of security at Alexon, an old friend of Victoria’s, had suggested