Loving Evangeline. Linda Howard
His persona was that of a wealthy, cultured, sophisticated man, and Brent supposed he was all that, but nevertheless, it was only the first layer. The other layers, whatever they were, were so well hidden that he only sensed their existence, and even that was due only to his own access to privileged information. Watching Cannon’s leanly handsome face, he couldn’t catch so much as a flicker of expression; there were only those remote eyes watching him with unlimited patience.
Making a swift decision, William Brent leaned forward. “Mr. Cannon, I’m going to tell you a lot more than I had originally planned. We have a definite problem at one of your companies, a software company down in Alabama—”
“Suppose I tell you what I know?” Robert interrupted in an even tone. “Then you can tell me if you have anything to add.”
With calm, precise sentences, he recounted what Davis Priesen had told him. The two agents shared one startled, involuntary glance that revealed they hadn’t discovered as much as Davis had, which upped that young man’s stock with Robert even more.
When he had finished, William Brent cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Congratulations. You’re a bit ahead of us. This will help us considerably in our investigation—”
“I’m flying down there tomorrow morning,” Robert said.
Brent looked disapproving. “Mr. Cannon, I appreciate your desire to help, but this is best handled by the bureau.”
“You misunderstand. I don’t intend to help. This is my company, my problem. I’ll take care of it myself. I’m merely apprising you of the situation and my intentions. I don’t have to take the time to set up a cover and get inside the operation, because I own it. I will, of course, keep you informed.”
Brent was already shaking his head. “No, it’s out of the question.”
“Who better? I not only have access to everything, my presence wouldn’t be as alarming as that of federal investigators.” He paused, then said gently, “I’m not a rank amateur.”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Cannon.”
“Then I suggest you talk this over with your superiors.” He glanced at his watch. “In the meantime, I have arrangements to make.”
He had no doubt that when Brent took this to his superiors, he would be surprised and chagrined to be told to back off and let Robert Cannon handle this problem on his own. They would provide every assistance, of course, and have backup in place if he needed it, but Agent Brent would find that Robert was calling the shots.
He spent the rest of the day clearing his calendar. Felice made the open-ended flight arrangements and his hotel reservation in Huntsville. Just before leaving that night, he checked his watch and took a chance. Though it was eight o’clock in New York, it was only six in Montana, and the long summer daylight hours meant ranch work went on for much longer than during the winter.
To his delight, the phone was picked up on the third ring and his sister’s lazy drawl came over the line. “Duncans’ Madhouse, Madelyn speaking.”
Robert chuckled. He could hear in the background the din his two young nephews were making. “Had a busy day, honey?”
“Robert!” Pleasure warmed her voice. “You might say that. Would you be interested in having your nephews for a prolonged visit?”
“Not until they’re housebroken. I won’t be at home, anyway.”
“Where are you off to this time?”
“Huntsville, Alabama.”
She paused. “It’s hot down there.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“You might even sweat, ” she warned him. “Think how upset you’d be.”
His firm mouth twitched at the amusement in her voice. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
“It must be serious, then. Trouble?”
“A few glitches.”
“Take care.”
“I will. If it looks as though I’ll be down there for any length of time, I’ll call you and give you my number.”
“All right. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He smiled a bit as he hung up. It was typical of Madelyn that she hadn’t asked questions but had immediately sensed the seriousness of the situation awaiting him in Alabama. In six words she had given him her blessing, her support and her love. Though she was actually only his stepsister, the affection and understanding between them were as strong as if they had been connected by blood.
Next he called the woman he had been escorting rather regularly lately, Valentina Lawrence. The relationship hadn’t progressed far enough that he would expect her to wait until his return, so the easiest thing for both of them was if he made it clear that she was free to see anyone she wished. It was a pity; Valentina was too popular to remain unattached for long, and he suspected he would be in Alabama for several weeks.
She was just the sort of woman Robert had always been most attracted to: the thoroughbred racehorse type—tall, lean, small-breasted. Her makeup was always impeccable and understated, her clothing both stylish and tasteful. She had a genuinely pleasant personality, and enjoyed the theater and opera as much as he did. She would have been a wonderful companion, if this problem hadn’t interfered.
It had been several months since he had ended his last relationship, and he was feeling restless. He much preferred living with a woman to living alone, though he was perfectly content with his own company. He deeply enjoyed women, both mentally and physically, and he normally preferred the steadiness of a long-term relationship. He didn’t do one-nighters and disdained those who were so stupid. He refrained from making love to a woman until she had committed herself to a relationship with him.
Valentina accepted the news of his prolonged absence with grace; after all, they weren’t lovers and had no claim on each other. He could hear the gentle regret in her voice, but she didn’t ask him to call when he returned.
That final piece of business concluded, he sat for several minutes, frowning as he allowed himself to think about the relationship that hadn’t quite developed into intimacy, and how long it would be before he had time to attend to the sexual part of his life again. He wasn’t pleased at the prospect of a long wait.
He wasn’t casual about sex in any way. His intense sexuality was always under strict control; with the difference between a man’s strength and a woman’s, a man who wasn’t in control could easily brutalize a woman, something that disgusted him. He tempered both his sexual appetite and his steely strength, reining them in with the icy power of his intellect. He never pressured a woman, though he always made it clear when he was attracted, so she would know where she stood. But he let his lady set the pace, let the intimacy progress at her speed. He respected a woman’s natural caution about opening her tender, vulnerable body to a much bigger, stronger male. When it came to sex, he treated women gently and took his time so they could become fully aroused. Such control was no hardship; he could spend hours caressing soft, feminine skin and intriguing curves. Lingering over the lovemaking helped satisfy his own hunger, while intensifying his partner’s.
There was nothing like making love that first time with a new partner, he mused. Never again was the experience so intense and hungry. He always tried to make it special for his lady, to make her feel special. He never stinted on the little details that made a woman feel treasured: romantic dinners for two, candlelight, champagne, thoughtful gifts, his complete attention. When the time finally came to retire to the bedroom, he would use all of his skill and control to satisfy her again and again before he allowed release for himself.
Thinking about what the problem in Alabama was causing him to miss made him irritated.
He was roused by a knock on his door. He looked up as Felice stuck her head in. “You should have gone home,” he reproved. “You didn’t have to