Free The Golden Chance by Jayne Ann Krentz

gathering satisfaction. It sounded as if Nick already had her under control. When Nick bothered to exert himself, he could handle anything. He was a Lightfoot.
    “Hello, Reed, I suppose you've heard the news? It's all over town.”
    Reed turned at the sound of the cool, beautifully modulated voice. His wife was gliding through the doorway, dressed in flowing silk trousers and an artfully draped blouse that framed her elegant throat. As always, his eyes went once, briefly, to the gold band he had put on her finger.
    “Tec just told me.” He kept his voice perfectly neutral. He found himself doing that a lot around Hilary. It was as if he took some petty pleasure in not giving her whatever reaction she wanted or anticipated.
    “Trust Nick to make his reappearance in a suitably spectacular fashion. He'll probably parachute onto the lawn in a blaze of fireworks. Pour me a drink, please, Tec.”
    “Yes, ma'am. The usual?” Tec's voice was more clipped than before. It was always that way when he spoke to Reed's second wife.
    “Of course, Tec.” Hilary did not look at him. She concentrated on her husband while Tec prepared a martini straight-up for her. “I suppose Nick's return has something to do with those shares?”
    “Sounds like it,” Reed said quietly.
    “I wonder what he thinks he can do.” Hilary picked up her martini and toyed with the spear holding the olive. “Harry referred to the Fox woman as Nick's lady friend. You don't suppose Nick is trying his hand at seducing those shares out of her, do you?”
    “Beats me.” Reed wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of speculating aloud about his son's intentions, although privately he was wondering the same thing. He sighed inwardly at his own pettiness. This was what it had come down to between himself and his beautiful, young wife. A grim, silent battlefield had been carved out between them, a battlefield where the fighting was done not with words but with a chilling display of courtesy and a total lack of outward emotion.
    “Harry says Nick made it clear the Fox woman was staying alone at the Gilmarten place. How quaint. Imagine Nick worrying about the proprieties. Oh, well, I suppose that means we'd better prepare a room for him here.”
    “Goddamn right,” Reed muttered, some of his control slipping for an instant. “Of course he'll be staying here. This is his home.” He swallowed the rest of the martini in a single, numbing gulp.
     
    The small towns of eastern Washington all had a certain similarity about them, Phila had often thought. Her job had taken her to a number of them. Hardworking and unpretentious, they were generally oriented toward the farms and ranches that surrounded them.
    Holloway was no different. There were more pickup trucks than anything else on the main street. The down-town shopping district consisted of three banks, a couple of gas stations, two fast-food places—including an old-fashioned drive-in hamburger joint—and a variety of small shops.
    The shops sold such things as yarn, hardware, work clothes and real estate. Most of the stores looked vaguely depressed, and with good reason. The new mall in the next town had siphoned off the majority of Holloway's down-town business.
    The landscape around Holloway was also typical of this part of the state. The endless vista of arid desert, which always astonished visitors who thought of Washington as a rain forest, were broken by acres of lush farmland. At certain times of the year hot, dry winds cut a swath through the area, raising dust that hung suspended for hours in the air. When the wind blew, the effect was similar to a snow-storm. Traffic came to a halt and people stayed indoors.
    But today the air was still. The sky was clear, cloudless and free of dust, a vast blue bowl that stretched over the desert to the jagged peaks of the distant mountains.
    There was nothing wrong with Holloway, Phila thought. She had been raised in towns just like it. She knew them