Liar's Moon (24 page)

She’d never known a kiss so totally consuming. The delving of his tongue, the movement, the erotic sensations of its very tip, coming to her, withdrawing.

And she, in hunger, catching him, drawing him back, seeking each elusive thrust. Pressing against him with greater urgency. Barely aware that her very chaste gown was no longer on her at all, but had fallen to her feet in total disregard. She was consumed with the need to touch. Feel the
exalting
sexual tension in the corded muscles of his shoulders and chest, warm, rippling, and moving to the softest caress of her fingertips. Feel his hips, hard and urgent against hers. Feel that kiss that promised everything else to come.

She found his belt again. She slid her hands around to his spine, forcing material away, exploring the fine lines of his back and the hard power of his buttocks.

He made a hoarse sound, kicked off his shoes, shed trousers, socks, and boots, and swept her in his arms. The breath escaped her in heady excitement, and when she lay beneath him, she could not lie still.

Empty shell…

She mocked herself, and it meant nothing. A fever was upon her, potent, demanding, and she could not deny it. She made love to him, allowing herself to refuse no temptation. She kissed him, she trailed her hair over him again—brought all of her body in contact with all of his. Heard his whispers, flower
y compliments, graphic truths—
all spoken as only a lover could speak them, and all beautiful in the arousal they brought forth in her blood, in her limbs, in the spiraling crest of her desire.

She felt deliciously powerful; more powerful still when his eyes and face first betrayed his intention, when his arms enwrapped her again, when the tide swept and ebbed, and brought him to be aggressor again. Did one take and then give, give and take, or was it all one? Lips meshing, fingers touching, bodies burning—all in one.

All in one.

Making love had never been like this. And yet she felt that each time he touched her again. He’d been her lover; he’d become her lover. And tonight, beneath another liar’s moon, she knew again that wonderful fascination, that spell. He coming into her, she being filled with him. Each stroke, each thrust a bonding, a beauty. Rising in earthbound passion, somehow more. Shimmering magic. This was unique. No one had ever loved like this before.

Minutes passed, bodies cooled. He continued to stroke her and she was ready to talk, ready to say the things that might make life right between them. But then, right then, was when he chose to open his mouth, chuckling softly.

“An empty shell, huh?”

Something rushed through her like brushfire; not passion now, but burning anger. She twitched with the near irresistible urge to move her hand just a bit and twist some wrenching damage upon that piece of his anatomy that just brought her such sweet pleasure.

He might have sensed her deadly intention; the next thing she knew his arms were about her, pulling her on top of him, laughter in his eyes.

“Tracy—”

“Let me go! I’m getting out of this bed—”

“No, you’re not,” he said serenely, still amused. “You promised to sleep with me.”

“Oh! I should keep my promises when you don’t?”

“What promises have I ever made and not kept?”

“You were supposed to find my father’s murderer, remember?”

The laughter faded from his eyes. He rolled, leaving her beside him. He reached to the nightstand, found his cigarettes, and lit one. His back was to her and despite it all, she wanted to take back her words. She wanted to stroke her fingers down the length of his spine.

She didn’t touch him. A moment passed, and then he spoke.

“Tracy, Rob is a detective. He discovered the grave, he slipped some money to a retired official to give him a garbled account regarding Blake’s birth and the pre
-
adoption circumstances. He’s also been working for me where your father’s death was concerned.”

Tracy tensed, wondering what the quiet Rob had discovered. The man she had hired had discovered the money situation, then reported to her that there was nothing else he could do.

“Go on,” she said.

Leif turned back to her. “The cop who shot your father’s killer rather conveniently fell off a roof and died very recently.”

Tracy swallowed. “Police work is dangerous—”

He made a ticking sound of annoyance.

“Tracy—face it. He was paid to kill Smith after Smith killed Jesse—just to make sure that Smith didn’t talk. And now the cop is dead, too. No connections.”

She grasped the covers, pulling them nervously to her breasts. “When—when did this man fall off the roof?”

“Right after my invitations to get together for the memorial service went out. When everyone that we might suspect could easily have been in the city.”

Tracy lowered her eyes. “What does that matter? You’re convinced that it was either my mother or my grandfather,” she said bitterly.

“Tracy.” His voice was surprisingly gentle. “I have reason to suspect that Je
sse thought Blake might be ours
—your child and mine. You never told him about Blake, did you?”

She couldn’t answer him.

“Tracy, did you?”

She shook her head at last. “No. When I—when I thought that the baby was dead, it didn’t seem to make any sense to tell Dad. I hadn’t seen him—not after Mother determined to take me to Europe, where I could be completely beneath her wing. And then, of course, when I discovered that I was pregnant, you were already married to Celia. It seemed to make the best sense to stay here and have my baby. I didn’t leave until—until after the funeral for the baby. I didn’t see Jesse until a month or two after that—and then it just seemed that it would cause needless pain to tell him.”

Leif took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then murmured. “I don’t think that it was an accident. I think that your grandfather made sure that Blake came to me, once he knew that we were hoping to adopt a child.”

“You’re granting him that concession?” Tracy asked bitterly.

Leif eyed her coolly. “Blake is his great-grandchild. Arthur probably did want him raised by one of his natural parents and cared for in a sound home, lacking nothing. Before our month together, Tracy, I’d gotten on rather well with your grandfather. But Arthur came to see Jesse about a week before he was killed. They fought. I think that Jesse told him that he was pretty damn sure that Blake was his grandson and that Arthur had been playing God again.”

Tracy moistened her lips. “That’s an assumption!”

“Yes, but your father called me the day before he was killed. He seemed upset. I think that Jesse knew, Tracy.”

“So,” she murmured distantly, smoothing the sheet down. “My grandfather had Jesse killed rather than let him tell you that he thought that you had adopted your own natural son.” She stared at him with hot eyes and a wretched effort at contempt. But for a moment, she just didn’t know anymore. “Tell me, if grandfather didn’t conspire to kill him—just what was my mother’s motive?”

“She couldn’t stay away from him,” Leif said softly. “Or perhaps she didn’t want Jesse coming out with the truth, either. You would have believed your father,” Leif added bitterly. “You would have told him the truth. He would never have had to drag you to a cemetery to find out what really happened.”

Tracy rolled away from him, grinding her teeth together as a cacophony of emotions seemed to scream within her.

Blake
…
It was still incredible that people who supposedly loved her could have stolen her child away.

Jesse…
It was still incredible that he was dead. Gone from her forever.

Leif…
Determined to nail the people she still loved despite it all.

Audrey
…
Never, never able to break her ties with Jesse.

Herself
…
She would do anything to be with Blake now. She did love Leif, and marriage had once been a dream. But tonight
…
tonight she had fallen to his seduction without feeling love, and she was faced again with a moral horror. I am his wife. But is it enough? It is an empty marriage—a demand, not a proposal.

“Tracy?”

He placed a hand on her shoulder; she shook it off. “I’m in your bed, Leif. Or rather, you’re in mine. Promise fulfilled. May I go to sleep, now, please?”

She felt him stiffen. “Certainly, Tracy. Go to sleep,” he muttered with disgust.

But she didn’t sleep. She lay there as far away from him as she could get. She didn’t know how much time passed, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping. He spoke again.

“By the way, Tracy. Rob was able to tell me that your mother, Ted, and Arthur Kingsley flew into New York on Friday, a day before the cop was killed. And by some odd, odd coincidence, they all happened to be there the week before Jesse died. Jesse and Arthur fought at the office, Jesse had dinner and I’m not sure what else with your pother, and Jesse even met Ted for lunch.”

“And you live in Connecticut and the two of you saw each other constantly. So tell me—what does that prove?” Tracy asked.

“Not a thing,” Leif said. “Maybe the lovely Lauren did it after all. Or Carol. Or Sam or Tiger—or the damned butler. Go ahead. Go to sleep, Tracy. You’re living with blinders on.”

“Go to hell!” she snapped.

“Yeah, yeah. Sweet dreams to you, too, Mrs. Johnston,” he said with a very weary sigh.

They kept their distance then. It was near dawn when
she slept, just in time for him to wake her and tell her in a very foul temper that it was time to start for home.

I
t was daylight when they left, daylight when they returned to Leif’s home in Connecticut.

Leif must have called Liz, and Liz must have told Blake that they were returning, because he was standing on the porch, waiting.

Tracy stared at Blake as Leif parked the car. She and Leif had barely spoken on the long flight home; they hadn’t exchanged two words in the car. Now he gazed her way before exiting the car, and she knew that it was with speculation. He hadn’t given her any guidelines in dealing with Blake and she knew that he was curious to see what role she would take.

He was too young; they both knew that. Way too young to deal with the intricacy of the situation.

And at this particular moment, Tracy just wanted to be his friend. Well, that wasn’t really true. She wanted to run to him and sweep him into her arms and break into tears and tell him that now that she had found him, no one would ever, ever take him away from her again. She wanted to hold him and marvel at him and absorb the fact that he was her son. Hers.

“Daddy!”

He didn’t give her a glance, but raced forward to fly into Leif’s arms. Tracy stood in the background, inhaling, exhaling, trying to still the sharpness of the pain.

Leif hugged him tightly, the massive length of his hands and fingers cupping the dark little head close to him. Tracy’s throat tightened; there was so much love there. Love earned in constant days and nights of caring. Days and nights that she had lost.

“Hey!” Leif said at last, settling Blake on his hip and
smiling. “Say ‘hi’ to Tracy. I’ve got a big surprise for you.”

Blake glanced over his father’s shoulder at Tracy and gave her a little smile. Leif’s smile.

Leif’s smile. Leif’s eyes
. Jesse’s beautiful blond hair—
all these things. His—hers.

“Hi, Tracy.” He gave his attention back to his father. “What’s the surprise?”

“You’re the first to know. I hope you like the idea. Tracy and I ran away and got married. What do you think?”

Tracy wasn’t at all sure that Blake was thrilled with the idea. He gazed at her with his father’s own wariness apparent in his charcoal eyes.

“Will you be leaving a lot again?” he asked his father.

“No,” Leif said, shaking his head.

“Tracy plays the piano, too, you know. She might want to go on the stage like Jamie,” Blake continued, not sure.

Leif hesitated, Tracy stepped forward. “I like to write music, Blake. I don’t like crowds, and I really don’t like traveling a lot.”

He lowered his head and shrugged, then grinned at his father. “She’s a lot better than some other girls you might have married.”

“Blake!”

“Can I tell everybody?” he asked his father.

He shrugged and glanced at Tracy. Her fingers were still itching to wrench
her
son from Leif, and she knew she couldn’t do it. She shrugged in return.

Leif set Blake on the ground, and he went running up to the house, screaming out the information.

By the time they reached the door, it seemed that the household was there, waiting for them, asking if it was true or not. Jamie was thrilled, kissing Tracy and telling
her he had known it would happen all along. Liz was much more quietly pleased. Carol congratulated them nicely, Lauren with more of a barb to her words. Tiger and Sam gave her a kiss. Ted was there, mildly pleased.

Only her mother and grandfather were missing.