[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
smart, but she's no match for a man like Sabon." :
"Want me to come over?"
"I can take care of her," he replied. "I'm not over the hill yet."
There was a rare, deep chuckle on the other end of the line. "Nobody who watched you
knock
Colby Lane
to his knees on that drilling platform would ever say you were."
"Speaking of the devil, how is he?"
Colby linked up with another group of mercenaries and went to Africa, but I hear he's come home
and he's working for Uncle Sam now. He's changed so much lately that I don't know him. That
damned woman!"
"It's not her fault that he can't give her up and let her settle with her new husband," Pierce reminded
him. "If he will get drunk twice a monthand start fights, he can expect someone to knock him around
eventually."
"Nobody was game to try it until you came along."
"Not even you?" Pierce chided.
"Oh, he knew better than to pick on me," he said carelessly. "Didn't you notice that big white scar on
his jaw?"
"You rogue, you."
"He caught me at a bad time."
"I'd like to see anyone catch you at a good one lately. Speaking of men with chips on their shoulders,
we could talk about yours," he added.
"Not today. I've got work to do. Watch your back. Sabon doesn't like you any more than
Brauer does, but he's supposedly got more money than Brauer and he's devious. I'd hate to get a call at
three in the morning, telling me you'd washed up on a beach over at Freeport."
"You won't. Keep in touch."
"Sure."
Pierce hung up and reflected on what he'd learned. It was unwelcome news. The oil business had
always been boom or bust It was more complicated man it looked to an outsider, as well. There were
a thousand worries that included oil spills, leaks, explosions, fires and disgruntled employees mad
enough to cause accidents. There were funding problems and quarrels over who absorbed which
costs, and squabbling between the oil companies footing the bill and the construction outfit building
the rigs and pipelines. It was an ever-changing pattern of problems, and Pierce was where the buck
stopped.
The newest venture involved building a rig for a consortium in the Caspian Sea, a project beset by
legal and political woes. The pipeline was to go through a nation that the U.S. government had
sanctions against, and there was a ceiling on the amount of foreign investments that were allowed.
The Russians argued that the usual limitations shouldn't apply because the Caspian Sea was
landlocked and didn't fall under the specifications. The oil companies involved in the project were
international, but not above the sanctions that the U.S. had persuaded other nations to honor.
There was ongoing interference from people in Sabon's country. They needed a pipeline in a similar
area. The difference was that Sabon had the right contacts, and any enemy of the United States was a
friend of his. He didn't bother with sanctions or political correctness; he simply greased palms and
did what he liked. He and Brauer had done a bit of that of late, and if Tate Winthrop was right, a major
political fracas was shaping up back home. Brauer's friend in the Senate could cause some real
trouble for the consortium's project, and therefore for Pierce, who was supplying the equipment and
labor to construct it
He was deep in thought when the gate enclosing the swimming pool opened and Brianne joined him
near the changing rooms.
He was sunbathing and he'd long since shed his trunks. Brianne had stared at him and blushed the first
time she saw him that way, despite the time in Paris when she'd put him to bed. It had amused him that
she was still so innocent. After that once, she accepted his lack of clothing as de rigueur and never
commented on it or bothered to avert her eyes from his blatant masculinity. In fact, she seemed to find
him as fascinating as she had in Paris.
"You look preoccupied," he commented when she sat down on the lounger beside his and dropped her
purse on the nearby table.
"I'm not preoccupied. I'm suicidal." She glanced at him with a rueful smile. "Want to help me tie an
anchor around my neck?"
He sat up, serious now. "What's wrong?"
"I've been handed an ultimatum," she said in a colorless tone. She stared at her bare feet in the flimsy
white sandals. "Kurt says that either I marry Philippe Sabon or he'll do something drastic to my
mother and half brother. He's pretty desperate," she added. "I don't think he's bluffing. He's tied up
every penny he has in this oil deal with Philippe. He stands to lose it all without Philippe's
cooperation, and he's going to lose that if I don't marry the repulsive Monsieur Sabon."
His face hardened. He hadn't thought that even Brauer would go so far in his pursuit of wealth. He was
wrong.
"What do you want to do?" he asked her abruptly.
She glanced at him with a wan smile. "Can't you guess?" She slid her hands over her jeans-clad thighs.
"It's now or never."
His black eyes narrowed as they searched over her slender body with calculation. "Would you care to
be more specific?"
"Sure." She stood up and abruptly pulled off her silk blouse. There was nothing under it except her
small, pretty breasts. "How's this for specific?" she asked bluntly.
Chapter Five
Pierce had refused to think of Brianne as a woman lately. He hadn't overcome his grief for Margo and
he wasn't ready for any intimate involvement, especially with a woman as young and innocent as
Brianne.
But the sight of those soft, pretty pink breasts with their hard mauve tips had an immediate and
unmistakable effect on him.
Her eyes followed the movement of his body with wide fascination that quickly turned to
apprehension. She folded her arms across her breasts, and her brazen demeanor went into eclipse.
"Lost your nerve?" he taunted softly.
She had. It wasn't possible to pretend that she didn't find him intimidating. "Sorry," she said, because
his irritation with her was also apparent. "The magazines don't show men like that," she added self-
consciously.
They wouldn't dare." He got to his feet and moved closer to her, slowly taking her hands away from
her breasts. They were hard-tipped, just slightly swollen. He looked at their delicate pink contours
with pure appreciation. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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smart, but she's no match for a man like Sabon." :
"Want me to come over?"
"I can take care of her," he replied. "I'm not over the hill yet."
There was a rare, deep chuckle on the other end of the line. "Nobody who watched you
knock
Colby Lane
to his knees on that drilling platform would ever say you were."
"Speaking of the devil, how is he?"
Colby linked up with another group of mercenaries and went to Africa, but I hear he's come home
and he's working for Uncle Sam now. He's changed so much lately that I don't know him. That
damned woman!"
"It's not her fault that he can't give her up and let her settle with her new husband," Pierce reminded
him. "If he will get drunk twice a monthand start fights, he can expect someone to knock him around
eventually."
"Nobody was game to try it until you came along."
"Not even you?" Pierce chided.
"Oh, he knew better than to pick on me," he said carelessly. "Didn't you notice that big white scar on
his jaw?"
"You rogue, you."
"He caught me at a bad time."
"I'd like to see anyone catch you at a good one lately. Speaking of men with chips on their shoulders,
we could talk about yours," he added.
"Not today. I've got work to do. Watch your back. Sabon doesn't like you any more than
Brauer does, but he's supposedly got more money than Brauer and he's devious. I'd hate to get a call at
three in the morning, telling me you'd washed up on a beach over at Freeport."
"You won't. Keep in touch."
"Sure."
Pierce hung up and reflected on what he'd learned. It was unwelcome news. The oil business had
always been boom or bust It was more complicated man it looked to an outsider, as well. There were
a thousand worries that included oil spills, leaks, explosions, fires and disgruntled employees mad
enough to cause accidents. There were funding problems and quarrels over who absorbed which
costs, and squabbling between the oil companies footing the bill and the construction outfit building
the rigs and pipelines. It was an ever-changing pattern of problems, and Pierce was where the buck
stopped.
The newest venture involved building a rig for a consortium in the Caspian Sea, a project beset by
legal and political woes. The pipeline was to go through a nation that the U.S. government had
sanctions against, and there was a ceiling on the amount of foreign investments that were allowed.
The Russians argued that the usual limitations shouldn't apply because the Caspian Sea was
landlocked and didn't fall under the specifications. The oil companies involved in the project were
international, but not above the sanctions that the U.S. had persuaded other nations to honor.
There was ongoing interference from people in Sabon's country. They needed a pipeline in a similar
area. The difference was that Sabon had the right contacts, and any enemy of the United States was a
friend of his. He didn't bother with sanctions or political correctness; he simply greased palms and
did what he liked. He and Brauer had done a bit of that of late, and if Tate Winthrop was right, a major
political fracas was shaping up back home. Brauer's friend in the Senate could cause some real
trouble for the consortium's project, and therefore for Pierce, who was supplying the equipment and
labor to construct it
He was deep in thought when the gate enclosing the swimming pool opened and Brianne joined him
near the changing rooms.
He was sunbathing and he'd long since shed his trunks. Brianne had stared at him and blushed the first
time she saw him that way, despite the time in Paris when she'd put him to bed. It had amused him that
she was still so innocent. After that once, she accepted his lack of clothing as de rigueur and never
commented on it or bothered to avert her eyes from his blatant masculinity. In fact, she seemed to find
him as fascinating as she had in Paris.
"You look preoccupied," he commented when she sat down on the lounger beside his and dropped her
purse on the nearby table.
"I'm not preoccupied. I'm suicidal." She glanced at him with a rueful smile. "Want to help me tie an
anchor around my neck?"
He sat up, serious now. "What's wrong?"
"I've been handed an ultimatum," she said in a colorless tone. She stared at her bare feet in the flimsy
white sandals. "Kurt says that either I marry Philippe Sabon or he'll do something drastic to my
mother and half brother. He's pretty desperate," she added. "I don't think he's bluffing. He's tied up
every penny he has in this oil deal with Philippe. He stands to lose it all without Philippe's
cooperation, and he's going to lose that if I don't marry the repulsive Monsieur Sabon."
His face hardened. He hadn't thought that even Brauer would go so far in his pursuit of wealth. He was
wrong.
"What do you want to do?" he asked her abruptly.
She glanced at him with a wan smile. "Can't you guess?" She slid her hands over her jeans-clad thighs.
"It's now or never."
His black eyes narrowed as they searched over her slender body with calculation. "Would you care to
be more specific?"
"Sure." She stood up and abruptly pulled off her silk blouse. There was nothing under it except her
small, pretty breasts. "How's this for specific?" she asked bluntly.
Chapter Five
Pierce had refused to think of Brianne as a woman lately. He hadn't overcome his grief for Margo and
he wasn't ready for any intimate involvement, especially with a woman as young and innocent as
Brianne.
But the sight of those soft, pretty pink breasts with their hard mauve tips had an immediate and
unmistakable effect on him.
Her eyes followed the movement of his body with wide fascination that quickly turned to
apprehension. She folded her arms across her breasts, and her brazen demeanor went into eclipse.
"Lost your nerve?" he taunted softly.
She had. It wasn't possible to pretend that she didn't find him intimidating. "Sorry," she said, because
his irritation with her was also apparent. "The magazines don't show men like that," she added self-
consciously.
They wouldn't dare." He got to his feet and moved closer to her, slowly taking her hands away from
her breasts. They were hard-tipped, just slightly swollen. He looked at their delicate pink contours
with pure appreciation. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]