Intimate Betrayal Read online

  PASSION, POWERFUL CHARACTERS,EXCITING PLOTS-DONT MISS ANY OF THE REWARDS OF READING AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR LINDA BARLOW

  HER SISTER’S KEEPER

  “With skill and finesse, Linda Barlow exposes every nerve, explores every relationship while telling an immensely good story.”

  —Sandra Brown, author of The Witness

  “An emotionally powerful and beautifully evocative story of passion, dreams, romance, and courage. A true tour de force!”

  —Katherine Stone, author of Rainbows and Promises

  “A turn-of-the-century saga… filled with charming, dynamic characters who jpfespd breathe in the reader’s mind. You will laugh and by through the adventures and intrigue that deep the pages turning.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  KEEPSAKE

  “The plot progression is extraordinary… a suspenseful, exciting read,” ,.

  —Rendezvous

  “Stunning, powerful, and fast-paced romantic suspense that will keep the audience in a high state of anticipation.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  ALSO BY LINDA BARLOW

  Keepsake

  Her Sister’s Keeper

  Published by

  WARNER BOOKS

  Copyright

  WARNER BOOKS EDITION

  Copyright © 1995 by Linda Barlow

  All rights reserved.

  Warner Books, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  First eBook Edition: October 2009

  ISBN: 978-0-446-56862-3

  Contents

  ALSO BY LINDA BARLOW

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  For Curt,

  with love

  Acknowledgments

  My deepest thanks to the many people who helped me during the writing of this novel, including Fran Busse Fowler, Rina Johnson, Henry H. Miller, Pamela Bleakney, David and Jean Ferris, Richard Currier, Larry Ellison, Jenny Overstreet, Raegen Rasnic, David Nathanson, Tina Moskow, Steven Axelrod, Dilek Barlow, and Curt Monash.

  Chapter One

  Annie Jefferson sent a quick prayer skyward. Standing in front of her was Matthew Carlyle, the one man who could save her company. She gave him a tentative smile, which he did not return.

  “I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me,” she said. “I know how busy you are.”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, of course you must be, as CEO of Powerdyme. I really appreciate the way you’re taking a firsthand interest in it instead of sending a vice president or somebody like that to talk to me.”

  I’m babbling, she thought. She smiled again, and this time he smiled back. Charlie always used to tell her that her smile was irresistible.

  Ah, Charlie, my darling, I miss you so much!

  “Sit down, please,” Carlyle said, indicating a simple straight-backed wooden chair just opposite his desk. All the furniture would have to go when the office was redesigned, she thought wryly as she sat down on the hard, unforgiving chair. She felt like a prisoner in an interrogation room instead of a corporate designer addressing a prospective client.

  “There are several things I’d like to discuss with you, Annie,” he said.

  Annie. Wouldn’t it have been more professional to address her as Mrs. Jefferson? It wasn’t as if they knew each other well. At least… Don’t think about that, she warned herself.

  “I presume you’ve reviewed my proposal,” she said.

  Matthew Carlyle had not sat down but was leaning one hip against the front of his desk. It seemed to her that he was closer than was necessary in such a spacious office. He was known in his business circles as a brilliant, ruthless, and intimidating man, and Annie suspected that he was quite deliberate in his posture and body language. How much simpler it must be to negotiate his multimillion-dollar computer industry schemes when he was able to establish complete and unquestioned dominance over his associates and competitors.

  He was a good-looking man. Tall and lanky, without an ounce of fat visible on his body. He had to be at least forty, but he didn’t look it, which was probably the result of rigorous exercise in some wealthy executive gym. His hair was dark brown and he had high, angular cheekbones. His eyes were a deep shade of green.

  “I’ve reviewed your proposal, and I think it’s excellent,” he said.

  “I’m delighted to hear it.” Thank goodness! He was a difficult man to read, and she’d been starting to wonder. The fact that he’d invited her here for a personal meeting had been encouraging, but she hadn’t wanted to set her hopes too high.

  Still, it was hard not to hope. The proposal to design the new corporate headquarters of Matthew Carlyle’s incredibly successful Powerdyme had been one of the most exciting she’d ever worked on. Annie had given it every ounce of her creativity and skill, and she was proud of the results. Her proposal was superb. If Carlyle didn’t recognize that Fabrications could provide him with the best design at the lowest price, then he wasn’t the businessman he was reputed to be.

  She hoped he was able to recognize quality when he saw it. Because, much though she hated to admit it, she needed Matthew Carlyle. If she got this job, which would bring in more money than her last six projects combined, Fabrications would survive. If not, the company she had started with Charlie, her late husband, would very likely fail.

  It was as simple as that.

  Carlyle picked up a folder from the top of his desk. Her proposal. He leafed through it casually, nodding once or twice. “Your work is top-notch. I’ve worked with other design firms—much bigger and more famous than yours, in fact—so I know what’s out there. As you may know, I’ve always taken a personal interest in such matters. The working environment I provide for my employees is vitally important.”

  Indeed she knew, and she’d worked with that in mind. One of the outrageously successful computer companies of the baby boom generation, Powerdyme was famous for the way it had combined high tech brilliance and ingenuity with the New Age ideals of the counterculture. You didn’t go into Powerdyme with the same design solutions that you might present to General Motors or even IBM.

  After all, Matthew Carlyl
e had started out as a slap in the face to corporate America. Together with a few other young high technology entrepreneurs of the 1970s and ’80s, he’d turned inside out the old ideas of how an American corporation should be run.

  “We are, as you know, an unconventional company,” he continued. “This has to be reflected in our workspace. I’ve received several other serious proposals for this project, but I have to say that yours has the best solutions to our unique problems.”

  He lifted a page from the folder and examined it, smiling slightly and nodding. “Really, Annie, you’ve done a fantastic job.”

  “Thank you. I enjoyed it,” she said in a heartfelt tone. “Most corporate design work is fairly routine, but this one has presented all sorts of exciting challenges.”

  “You enjoy challenges, I take it?”

  “Oh yes.” Although at this point in her life, she thought wryly, she would have been happier with fewer situations that were challenging and more that were secure and certain.

  “What about risks?” he asked. “You enjoy them too?”

  She was alerted to the new tone in his voice. “What do you mean? What sort of risks?”

  “You know what I mean. Are you a risk taker? Do you love being out there on the edge, feeling your adrenaline pumping as you reach for the ultimate thrill?”

  “Come with me. Don’t think about it. Just come.”

  “I can’t. Please, don’t ask me.”

  “You can. You’ve come this far. Some things are meant to be.”

  Annie felt her cheeks grow hot. Was he too thinking about that magical, terrifying, far-better-forgotten weekend? Or had he put it out of his mind?

  “I don’t think I’m much of a risk taker, no,” she said.

  He tossed the folder that held her proposal down onto his desk. “Well, the fact of the matter is, neither am I.”

  Annie flinched deep inside. Something was going wrong; she could feel it. Her fingers clenched into fists. Was he going to turn her down?

  “Your work is indeed excellent, but I’ve done some checking into the current status of your design firm. I’m afraid I don’t like what I’ve learned. Fabrications is a small company—far smaller than any I’ve worked with in the past. It was quite successful in the mid-eighties, but the past few years have been increasingly lean, and the unfortunate death of your husband last year has been disastrous for the firm. You are not an architect, Annie. You’re a designer, and no doubt a very good one. But the architect you’re working with now is nowhere near as good as your husband was. And that fact is hurting your firm.”

  That fact was killing her firm, actually. But she’d been trying to hide it and certainly wasn’t going to admit it now. “My husband was special,” she said. “You’re right that it hasn’t been easy to replace him. But Sidney Canin is a good architect, and I have every confidence in him.”

  “He’s mediocre, and you and I both know it.”

  Annie felt herself flush. “As a matter of fact, Sid won’t be with us much longer, although that has nothing to do with his job performance. He’s leaving for personal reasons—he’s originally from New York City and he wants to move back there. I’m in the process of interviewing architects now, and I’m optimistic about the talent out there. I intend to hire the best.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t afford to hire the best. In fact, I doubt you can afford to hire anyone. Your firm is in serious trouble. Although your proposal was by far the best one I’ve received on this project, I don’t believe you had any business submitting it, because Fabrications simply can’t do the job that you’ve outlined.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “It’s the way I see it, Annie. I’m sorry.” He paused, then added brutally, “You’re good, but you’re not good enough.”

  “Wait a minute.” Her hands were clenched so tightly that her fingernails were digging into her palms. Without the Powerdyme project, her company might not survive. “You’re telling me that I’m talented and creative, that I’ve suggested ways to solve your design problems that occurred to nobody else, that my proposal is the best of the lot, and yet you’re not going to hire my firm?”

  “That’s right. I don’t think Fabrications is going to be around long enough for you to complete the job.”

  “Well, it probably won’t be if we don’t get this project!”

  The moment she’d spoken the words she regretted them. One of the primary rules in this dog-eat-dog business was never to display your weaknesses to others. Bleed even a little, and the predators move in for the kill.

  Oh God. Fabrications had meant everything to Charlie, and now that he was gone, it meant everything to Annie to keep it alive. If the company died, she would be failing Charlie, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. It would be like losing him all over again.

  “So what would you have me do? Take you on charity? That’s asking rather a lot, even for a pretty young window. As I said, I’m not a risk taker, at least not when I have so much at stake.”

  And suddenly the present vanished and Annie could hear her own voice whisper, “Oh, stop, please stop. I can’t. I’m not a risk taker, at least not when I have so much to lose.”

  She jumped to her feet, wanting to run from the room. Bastard! she thought. Any doubt that he recalled that night three years ago had vanished. He remembered, all right. And he was just as ruthless as everybody claimed.

  But she already knew that. She’d known it ever since the night in England when he’d come so close to sweeping her off her feet. He’d known she was married. So was he. Francesca Carlyle, his wife, was a beautiful, well-known San Francisco socialite. But that hadn’t stopped him. And he was such a charming and skilled seducer that it almost hadn’t stopped her, either. He’d been a smooth-tongued demon, with the tempting abilities of the Devil himself.

  As for her, she’d been weak and foolish, warm, fresh clay to be molded according to his desires. She had never forgiven herself for the way she’d acted. And when so soon afterward Charlie had shown the first signs of the cancer that had taken his life, Annie had felt as if it were a punishment for the adultery in her heart.

  In the end, though, she had rejected Matthew Carlyle, which must have been a blow to his masculine ego. Now, she thought, he was getting even with her for that. He was punishing her. No doubt he’d been waiting for his chance to do so for the past three years.

  Summoning every shred of dignity she possessed, she moved to his desk and picked up the folder containing her proposal. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Carlyle. I don’t think there’s anything more to discuss.”

  “Annie…” he said softly, but she ignored him, turned her back, and moved toward the door. As she passed the wastebasket, she sailed the folder neatly into it.

  She would survive in the corporate design business despite Mr. Matthew Carlyle.

  After several minutes of staring blankly at his computer screen, Matt Carlyle rose and looked out his window. Somewhere down below, Annie would be getting into her car, feeling disappointed and angry. Scared, too, probably. Deep down inside she must know that what he’d told her about her architectural design company was true. Annie was an excellent designer, but her husband had been the firm’s CEO and guiding force. Charlie Jefferson had also been an award-winning architect, and Fabrications would very likely founder without him.

  It was a shame, because the city could use more small creative firms. It was unfortunate, too, that so great a personal loss should also become a professional one. But life is tough, he thought grimly. No point in getting sentimental about it.

  Running a successful business was tough, too. Most small businesses failed. His own first one had bitten the dust after less than a year. Annie had nothing to be ashamed of. And if she had half the gumption he credited her with, she’d stand up, brush herself off, and find a way to start over again.

  On the other hand, he reminded herself, she was both a woman and a widow. Not that a woman couldn’t be successful on her own—b
ut only a fool would deny that the old-boy network that was so instrumental in raising capital for new business ventures tended to favor men.

  Staring out the window across the hills of San Francisco, Matthew Carlyle let his mind wander. Those blue eyes of hers, flashing fire, that fine gold hair that curved so delicately around her neck and chin, that stubborn chin that tilted up just a smidgen when she was angry, the subtle yet alluring curves of her body…

  Annie, a widow.

  Whereas he, of course, was still married.…

  He considered and rejected various options until finally he came up with one that seemed attractive no matter which angle he viewed it from.

  He picked up the phone. A few minutes later, he hung up, satisfied. He’d done what he could. Now, maybe he could clear his mind of the memory of Annie Jefferson’s anger and disappointment and instead remember her bright, hopeful smile.

  Chapter Two

  One Year Later

  “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

  “Who?” said Annie.

  “Matthew Carlyle. Don’t you think so?”

  Annie shrugged, then managed a smile for Darcy Fuentes, her coworker at Brody Associates, one of the largest architectural design firms in the city. They were standing together in the salon of Matthew Carlyle’s yacht, docked in a slip in San Francisco Bay, watching several well-dressed couples swing dancing. Among them were Carlyle and his wife, Francesca.