Born In Ice (23 page)

The air inside was alive with voices. Shoppers bumped along the aisles, peering into display cases. She saw diamonds, ring after ring flashing through glass. Colored stones like rainbows, the seductive gleam of gold.

"Oh, what a place." She was pleased to wander along the aisle with him. It seemed otherworldly, all the sellers and buyers haggling over the price of ruby necklaces and sapphire rings. What a story she'd have to tell when she got back to Clare.

She stopped with Gray by a display case and chuckled. "I doubt very much I'll find my souveniers in here."

"I will. Pearls, I think." He wagged a finger at the saleswoman to hold her off and studied the wares himself. "Pearls would suit."

"Are you buying a gift?"

"Exactly. This one." He gestured to the clerk. He'd already had an image in his mind, and the three strands of milky pearls fit it perfectly.

He listened with half an ear as the clerk touted the beauty and worth of the necklace. Traditional, she said, simple and elegant. An heirloom. And, of course, a bargain.

Gray took the necklace himself, tested the weight, studied the glowing orbs. "What do you think, Brianna?"

"It's stunning."

"Of course it is," the clerk said, sensing a sale rather than a browse. "You won't find another to compare with it, certainly not at this price. A classic look like this, you can wear with anything, evening dress, day wear. A little cashmere sweater, silk blouse. Simple little black dress."

"Black wouldn't suit her," Gray said, looking at Brianna. "Midnight blue, pastels, moss green maybe."

Brianna stomach began to jitter as the clerk picked up the theme. "You know you're right. With her coloring, you want jewel tones or pastels. Not every woman can wear both. Try it on. You'll see for yourself how beautifully they drape."

"Gray, no." Brianna took a step back, bumped solidly into another shopper. "You can't. It's ridiculous."

"Dearie," the clerk broke in. "When a man wants to buy you a necklace like this, it's ridiculous to quibble. At forty percent off retail, too."

"Oh, I think you can do better than that," Gray said offhandedly. It wasn't the money, he'd hardly glanced at the tiny ticket tagged discreetly to the pave diamond clasp. It was the sport. "Let's see how they look."

Brianna stood, her eyes filled with distress, as Gray fastened the necklace around her. It lay like a miracle against her plain cotton blouse. "You can't buy me something like this." She refused, however much her fingers itched, to reach up and stroke the pearls.

"Sure I can." He leaned over, gave her a casual kiss. "Let me enjoy myself." Straightening, he studied her through narrowed eyes. "I think it's pretty much what I'm looking for." He shot the clerk a look. "Do better."

"Dearie, I'm practically giving it away now. Those pearls are perfectly matched, you know."

"Mmm-hmm." He turned the little tabletop mirror toward Brianna. "Take a look," he suggested. "Live with them for a minute. Let me see that pin there, the diamond heart."

"Oh, that's a nice piece. You've got a good eye." Revved, the clerk reached for it, lay it on the counter on a black velvet pad. "Twenty-four brilliant cut stones. Top quality."

"Pretty. Brie, don't you think Maggie would like it? A new mom present."

"Ah." She was having a hard time keeping her mouth from hanging open. First the sight of herself in the mirror with pearls around her neck, then the idea that Gray would buy diamonds for her sister. "She'd adore it, how couldn't she? But you can't-"

"What kind of deal are you going to make me for both?"

"Well..." the clerk drummed her fingers on her breast. As if pained, she picked up a calculator and started running figures. She wrote an amount on a pad that had Brianna's heart stopping.

"Gray, please."

He just waved her to silence. "I think you can do better than that."

"You're killing me here," the woman said.

"See if you can stand a little more pain."

She grumbled, muttering about profit margins and the quality of her merchandise. But she juggled figures, sliced a bit, then patted a hand over her heart. "I'm cutting my own throat."

Gray winked at her, took out his wallet. "Box them up. Send them to the Plaza."

"Gray, no."

"Sorry." He unclasped the pearls, handed them negligently to the delighted clerk. "You'll have them by tonight. It's not smart to walk around with them."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"You have such a lovely voice," the clerk said to distract her. "Are you Irish?"

"I am, yes. You see-"

"It's her first trip to the States. I want her to have something special to remember it by." He took Brianna's hand, kissing her fingers in a way that made even the clerk's cynical heart sigh, "I want that very much."

"You don't have to buy me things."

"That's part of the beauty of it. You never ask."

"And what part of Ireland are you from, dearie?"

"County Clare," Brianna murmured, knowing she'd lost again. "It's in the west."

"I'm sure it's lovely. And you're going to..." After taking Gray's credit card, the clerk read the name and yelped. "Grayson Thane. God, I read all your books. I'm your biggest fan. Wait until I tell my husband. He's your biggest fan, too. We're going to see your movie next week. Can't wait. Can I have your autograph? Milt's just not going to believe it."

"Sure." He took the pad she shoved at him. "This you, Marcia?" He tapped the business card displayed on the counter.

"That's me. Do you live in New York? It never says where on the back of your books."

"No, I don't." He smiled at her, handing her back the pad to distract her from asking more questions.

" To Marcia,' " she read, " 'a gem among gems. Fondly, Grayson Thane.' " She beamed at him now, but not so brightly she forgot to have him sign the credit slip. "You come back any time you're looking for something special. And don't you worry, Mr. Thane. I'll have these sent out to your hotel right away. You enjoy your necklace, dearie. And you enjoy New York."

"Thanks, Marcia. Give my best to Milt." Pleased with himself, he turned back to Brianna. "Want to look around some more?"

Numb, she merely shook her head. "Why do you do that?" she managed when they were on the street again. "How do you make it impossible to say no when I mean no."

"You're welcome," he said lightly. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Let's get a hot dog."

"Gray." She stopped him. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever had," she said solemnly. "And so are you."

"Good." He grabbed her hand and led her to the next corner, calculating that he'd softened her up enough so that she'd let him buy her the perfect dress for the premiere.

She argued. She lost. To balance things out Gray backed off when she insisted on paying for her trinkets for Ireland herself. He amused himself helping her figure her change with the unfamiliar American money she'd gotten at the airport bank. It fascinated him that she seemed more dazzled by the toy store than by the jewelry or dress shops they'd visited. And when inspiration hit, he discovered her even more enthralled with a kitchen specialty store.

Delighted with her, he carted her bags and boxes back to the hotel, then charmed her into bed, spinning out time with long, luxurious lovemaking.

He wined and dined her at Le Cirque, then in a rush of nostalgic romanticism, took her dancing at the Rainbow Room, enjoying as much as she the out-of-time decor and big band sound.

Then he loved her again, until she slept exhausted beside him, and he lay wakeful.

He lay wakeful a long time, smelling the roses he'd given her, stroking the silk of her hair, listening to her quiet, even breathing.

Somewhere during that twilight time of half sleep, he thought of how many hotels he'd slept in alone. How many mornings he'd awakened alone, with only the people he created inside his head for company.

He thought of how he preferred it that way. He always had. And how, with her curled beside him, he wasn't quite able to recapture that sensation of solitary contentment.

Surely he would again, when their time was up. Even half dreaming he warned himself not to dwell on tomorrow, and certainly not on yesterday.

Today was where he lived. And today was very nearly perfect.

Chapter Sixteen

By the following afternoon Brianna was still dazzled enough with New York to try to look everywhere at once. She didn't care if she appeared so obviously the tourist, snapping pictures with her camera, staring up, her neck craned back, to see the very top of the spearing buildings. If she gawked, what of it? New York was a noisy and elaborate sideshow designed to stun the senses.

She pored over the guidebook in their suite, making careful lists and dutifully crossing off each sight she'd seen.

Now she had to face the prospect of a business lunch with Gray's agent.

"Arlene's terrific," Gray assured Brianna as he hustled her along the street. "You'll like her."

"But this lunch." Though she slowed her pace, he didn't allow her to hang back as she would have preferred. "It's

like a business meeting. I should wait for you somewhere, or perhaps join you when you've finished. I could go to Saint Patrick's now, and-"

"I told you I'd take you to Saint Pat's after lunch."

And he would, she knew. He was more than willing to take her anywhere. Everywhere. Already that morning she'd stood at the top of the Empire State Building, marvelling. She'd had a subway ride, eaten breakfast in a deli. Everything she'd done, everything she'd seen was whirling around in her head like a kaleidoscope of color and sound.

Still, he promised more.

But the prospect of having lunch with a New York agent, an obviously formidable woman, was daunting. She'd have found some firm way of excusing herself, perhaps even inventing a headache or fatigue, if Gray hadn't seemed so excited by the idea.

She watched as he casually stuffed a bill into a tin cup of a man dozing against the side of a building. He never missed one. Whatever the hand-printed sign might say- homeless, out of work, Vietnam vet-it got his attention. And his wallet.

Everything got his attention, she mused. He missed nothing and saw everything. And those small acts of kindness to strangers others seemed not even to admit existed were an innate part of him.

"Hey, bud, need a watch? Got some nice watches here. Only twenty bucks." A slim black man opened a briefcase to display an array of Gucci and Cartier knockoffs. "Got a real nice watch for the lady here."

To Brianna's dismay, Gray stopped. "Yeah? They got works?"

"Hey." The man grinned. "What do I look like? They keep the time, man. Look just like the ones you pay a thousand for down on Fifth."

"Let's see." Gray chose one while Brianna bit her lip. The man looked dangerous to her, the way his eyes were shifting right and left. "Get hassled much on this corner?"

"Nah. I got a rep. Nice watch there, quality, look pretty on the lady. Twenty bucks."

Gray gave the watch a shake, held it to his ear. "Fine."

He passed the man a twenty. "Couple of beat cops heading this way," he said mildly and tucked Brianna's hand in his arm.

When she looked back, the man was gone.

"Were they stolen?" she asked, awed.

"Probably not. Here you go." He fastened the watch on her wrist. "It might run for a day-or a year. You can never tell."

"Then why did you buy it?"

"Hey, the guy's got to make a living, doesn't he? The restaurant's up here."

That distracted her enough to have her tug on the jacket of her suit. She felt drab and countrified, and foolish with her little I Love New York bag holding her Empire State souveniers.

Nonsense, she assured herself. She met new people all the time. She enjoyed new people. The problem was, she thought as Gray ushered her into the Four Seasons, this time it was Gray's people.

She tried not to stare as he led her up the steps.

"Ah, Mr. Thane." The maitre d' greeted him warmly. "It's been too long. Ms. Winston is already here."

They crossed the room with its long gleaming bar, the linen-decked tables already filled with the lunch crowd. A woman rose as she spotted Gray.

Brianna saw the gorgeous red suit first, the glint of gold at the lapel and at the ears. Then the short, sleek blond hair, the quick flashing smile before the woman was enveloped by Gray's enthusiastic embrace.

"Good to see you, beautiful."

"My favorite globe trotter." Her voice was husky, with a hint of gravel.

Arlene Winston was tiny, barely topping five feet, and athletically trim from her thrice weekly workouts. Gray had said she was a grandmother, but her face was almost unlined, the tawny eyes sharp in contrast to the soft complexion and pixie features. With her arm still around Gray's waist, she held out a hand to Brianna.

"And you're Brianna. Welcome to New York. Has our boy been showing you a good time?"

"He has, yes. It's a wonderful city. I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Winston."

"Arlene." She cupped Brianna's hand briefly between the two of hers, patted. However friendly the gesture, Brianna wasn't unaware of the quick and thorough measuring. Gray simply stood back beaming.

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

"She certainly is. Let's sit. I hope you don't mind, I've ordered champagne. A little celebration."

"The Brits?" Gray asked, settling.

"There is that." She smiled as their glasses were filled from the bottle of spring water already on the table. "Do you want to get this business out of the way now, or wait until after lunch?"

"Let's get it out of the way."

Obliging, Arlene dismissed the waiter, then reached into her briefcase and took out a file of faxes. "Here's the British deal."

"What a woman," Gray said and winked at her.

"The other foreign offers are in there-and the audio. We've just started to pitch to the movie people. And I have your contract." She shifted, letting Gray look over the papers while she smiled at Brianna. "Gray tells me you're an incredible cook."

"He likes to eat."

"Doesn't he though? You run a B and B, delightfully from what I hear. Blackthorn, it's called."

"Blackthorn Cottage, yes. It's not a large place."

"Homey, I imagine." Arlene studied Brianna over her water glass. "And quiet."

"Quiet, certainly. People come to the west for the scenery."

"Which, I'm told, is quite spectacular. I've never been to Ireland, but Gray's certainly whetted my curiosity. How many people can you manage?"

"Oh, I've four guest rooms, so it varies depending on the size of families. Eight's comfortable, but I sometimes have twelve or more with children."

"And you cook for them all, run the place by yourself?"

"It's a bit like running a family," Brianna explained. "Most people stay only a night or two, going on their way." Casually Arlene drew Brianna out, .weighing each word, every inflection, judging. Gray was more than a client to her, much more. An interesting woman, she decided. Reserved, a bit nervous. Obviously capable, she mused, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the cloth as she pumped Brianna for details of the countryside.

Neat as a pin, she observed, well mannered, and... ah... she watched Brianna's gaze wander-just for a fraction-and rest on Gray. And saw what she wanted to see.

Brianna looked back, saw Arlene's lifted brows, and struggled not to blush. "Grayson said you have grandchildren."

"I certainly do. And after a glass of champagne, I'm likely to drag out all their pictures."

"I'd love to see them. Really. My sister just had a baby." Everything about her warmed, her eyes, her voice. "I've pictures of my own."

"Arlene." Gray looked up from the file, focused again.

"You're a queen among agents.

"And don't you forget it." She handed him a pen even as she signaled for the wine and the menus. "Sign the contracts, Gray, and let's celebrate."

Brianna calculated that she had sipped more champagne since meeting Grayson than she had in the whole of her life before him. While she toyed with a glass, she studied the menu and tried not to wince over the prices.

"We have drinks with Rosalie late this afternoon," Gray was saying, referring to the meeting scheduled with his editor, "then the premiere. You're going, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Arlene assured him. "I'll have the chicken," she added, passing her menu to the hovering waiter. "Now," she continued after their orders were placed. "Tell me how the book's going."

"It's going well. Incredibly well. I've never had anything fall into place like this. I've nearly got the first draft finished."

"So quickly?"

"It's streaming out." His gaze rested on Brianna. "Almost like magic. Maybe it's the atmosphere. It's a magical place, Ireland."

"He works hard," Brianna put in. "Sometimes he doesn't come out of his room for days at a time. And it doesn't do to disturb him. He'll snap at you like a terrier."

"And do you snap back?" Arlene wanted to know.

"Not usually." Brianna smiled as Gray covered her hand with his own. "I'm used to that sort of behavior with my sister."

"Oh, yes, the artist. You'd have experience with the artistic temperament."

"I do, indeed," Brianna said with a laugh. "Creative people have a more difficult time than the rest of us, I think. Gray needs to keep the door of his world closed while he's in it."

"Isn't she perfect?"

"I believe she is," Arlene said complacently.

A patient woman, she waited until after the meal before making her next move. "Will you have dessert, Brianna?"

"I couldn't, thank you."

"Gray will. Never gains an ounce," she said with a shake of her head. "You order something sinful, Gray. Brianna and I will go into the ladies' room where we can talk about you in private."

When Arlene rose, Brianna had little choice but to follow suit. She cast one confused glance at Gray over her shoulder as they walked away.

The ladies' lounge was as glamorous as the barroom. The counter was set with bottles of scent, lotions, even cosmetics. Arlene sat before the mirror, crossed her legs, and gestured for Brianna to join her.

"Are you excited about the premiere tonight?"

"Yes. It's a big moment for him, isn't it? I know they've made movies of his books before-I've seen one. The book was better."

"Thatta girl." Arlene laughed, tilted her head. "Do you know Gray has never brought a woman with him to meet me before you?"

"I..." Brianna fumbled, wondered how best to respond.

"I find that a very telling thing. Our relationship goes beyond business, Brianna."

"I know. He's so fond of you. He speaks of you like family."

"I am family. Or as close as he'll let himself come to it. I love him dearly. When he told me he was bringing you to New York, I was more than surprised." Casually Arlene opened her compact, dabbed powder under her eyes. "I wondered just how some little Irish tart had gotten her hooks in my boy."

When Brianna's mouth opened, her eyes iced, Arlene held up a hand.

"An overprotective mother's first reaction. And one that shifted as soon as I got a look at you. Forgive me."

"Of course." But Brianna's voice was stiff and formal.

"Now you're annoyed with me, and you should be. I've adored Gray for more than a decade, worried about him, harassed him, soothed him. I'd hoped he could find someone he could care for, someone who would make him happy. Because he's not."

She snapped her compact closed and, out of habit, took out a tube of lipstick. "Oh, he's probably the most well-adjusted person I know, but there's a lack of happiness in some corner of his heart."

"I know," Brianna murmured. "He's too alone."

"He was. Do you know the way he looks at you? He's almost giddy. That might have concerned me, if I hadn't seen the way you look at him."

"I love him," Brianna heard herself say.

"Oh, my dear, I can see that." She reached out to clasp Brianna's hand. "Has he told you about himself?"

"Very little. He holds that in, pretends it isn't there."

Arlene's lips thinned as she nodded. "He's not one to share. I've been as close to him as anyone can be for a long time, and I know next to nothing myself. Once, after his first million-dollar sale, he got a little drunk and told me more than he'd meant to." She shook her head. "I don't feel I can tell you. Something like a priest in confession- you'd understand that."

"Yes."

"I'll say this. He had a miserable childhood and a difficult life. Despite it, maybe because of it, he's a kind and generous man."