Wildest Hearts

impossible and brightened another few watts. “I managed to get free for lunch after all. Thanks for waiting for me.” She picked up a menu. “I'm starving. This is your club, Mr. Shore. What do you recommend?”

    “The halibut,” Shore said automatically. “They do it very nicely here.” He couldn't seem to take his eyes off Annie.

    “Sounds great.” Annie looked up at the waiter. “I'll have the halibut. No salad. And coffee, please.”

    “Yes, ma'am.”

    “Now, then.” Annie folded the menu with a snap. “What is everyone else having?”

    Shore glanced from Annie to Oliver and then turned to the waiter. “Halibut.”

    Annie gave Oliver an expectant look. “What are you having, Oliver?”

    “I wasn't planning on having anything,” Oliver said pointedly.

    “Nonsense. You don't have to diet. You get plenty of exercise.” Annie gave the waiter a sunny smile. “He'll have the halibut, too.”

    “Yes, ma'am.” The waiter nodded quickly, apparently having decided that Annie was in charge. He turned away before Oliver could cancel the order.

    Oliver gazed thoughtfully at Annie and wondered how she'd look being carted out of the club over his shoulder. “How did you know where to find me?”

    “When I phoned your office, Mrs. Jameson told me you were meeting Mr. Shore for lunch.”

    “I must remember to fire Mrs. Jameson when I return to the office.”

    “Don't even joke about doing any such thing. You'd be lost without her.” Annie turned back to Shore. “I didn't mean to interrupt the conversation.”

    “The hell you didn't,” Oliver muttered. He was almost certain he knew what was going on. Annie had gotten wind of this meeting and had surmised it was not going to proceed along the lines she thought it should. He wondered who had tipped her off. He had confided in no one, which probably meant Sybil had talked to her. Sybil knew him all too well.

    “Please continue with whatever it was you were discussing when I arrived,” Annie urged Shore.

    Shore looked at Oliver. “We were talking about my son,” he said quietly.

    “Carson?” Annie nodded. “He seems awfully nice. I understand he teaches art history. You must be very proud of him.”

    “I am,” Shore said, his eyes still on Oliver.

    “We weren't talking about Carson.” Oliver frowned. It dawned on him that Annie's presence was going to make things awkward, just as she must have known it would.

    Annie looked inquiringly at Shore. “You have another son?”

    “Yes, I do,” Shore said evenly. “His name is Hammond.”

    “Does he live here in Seattle?” Annie asked.

    “Not at the moment.” Shore hesitated. “He's living out of the country. A company in which I have an interest has recently expanded overseas. Hammond is working at one of their foreign offices.”

    “How interesting,” Annie said.

    “Your husband certainly seems to think so.” Shore signaled for another martini. “He's going to try to blackmail me because of it.”

    Annie's relentlessly cheerful smile vanished in the blink of an eye. “Don't be ridiculous. Oliver would never blackmail anyone. Would you, Oliver?”

    “Of course not,” Oliver said very softly.

    “I think,” Annie said firmly, “that someone should tell me what is going on here.”

    Shore's eyes were bleak as he met Oliver's across the table. “Your husband has somehow learned that my son Hammond got himself into serious financial trouble two years ago. There were questions of fraud. I took care of the matter. I reimbursed those who had been hurt by my son's actions. And then I sent Hammond out of the country for a while.”

    “How terrible for you,” Annie said with gentle sympathy.

    Oliver ground his back teeth. He had a sudden vision of his plan falling apart before his very eyes. Anger simmered in his veins. This time Annie had gone too far. Tying him to the bed was one thing; involving herself in family matters was another.

    “Your husband knows I do not want this information to become public,” Shore continued. “He knows how much it would hurt my wife. What it would do to all of us.”

    “I understand completely.” Annie shook her head dolefully. “As Aunt Madeline used to say, there's one in every family.”

    “One what?” Shore asked.

    “A black sheep.” Annie gave him a commiserating smile. “The scoundrel who can't resist blotting the old escutcheon. The one who embarrasses everyone else in the family. In my family it was