Stars of Mithra Box Set: Captive Star\Hidden Star\Secret Star (44 page)

“No.” With a shake of her head, Bailey drew
back, picked up her mug. “I'm not going to start our life together by insulting your family.”

“They're not human. You can't insult the inhuman. Muffy will bring the beasts with her.”

“Don't call your niece and nephew beasts.”

“Wait a minute.” Grace held up a hand. Her brows knit. “Muffy? Is that Muffy Parris West-lake? She's your sister?”

“Guilty.”

Grace managed to suppress most of the snort of laughter. “That would make Doro Parris Lawrence your other sister.” She rolled her eyes, picturing the two annoying and self-important Washington hostesses. “Bailey, run for your life. Go to Vegas. You and Cade can get married by a nice Elvis-impersonator judge and have a delightful, quiet life in the desert. Change your names. Never come back.”

“See?” Pleased, Cade slapped a hand on the table. “She knows them.”

“Stop it, both of you.” Bailey refused to laugh, though her voice trembled with it. “We'll have a small, dignified ceremony—with Cade's family.” She smiled at Grace. “And mine.”

“Keep working on her.” Cade rose. “I've got a couple things to do before I go into the office.”

Grace picked up her coffee again. “I don't know his family well,” she told Bailey. “I've managed
to avoid that little pleasure, but I can tell you from what I do know, you've got the cream of the crop.”

“I love him so much, Grace. I know it's all happened quickly, but—”

“What does time have to do with it?” Because she knew they were both about to get teary, she leaned forward. “We have to discuss the important, the vital, aspects of this situation, Bailey.” She took a deep breath. “When do we go shopping?”

M.J. staggered in to the sound of laughter, and scowled at both of them. “I hate cheerful people in the morning.” She poured coffee, tried to inhale it, then turned to study Grace. “Well, well,” she said dryly. “Apparently you and the cop got to know each other last night.”

“Well enough that I know he's more than a badge and an attitude.” Irritated, she pushed her mug aside. “What have you got against him?”

“Other than the fact he's cold and arrogant, superior and stiff, nothing at all. Jack says they call him the Machine. Small wonder.”

“I always find it interesting,” Grace said coolly, “when people only skim the surface, then judge another human being. All those traits you just listed describe a man you don't know.”

“M.J., drink your coffee.” Bailey rose to get the
cream. “You know you're not fit to be around until you've had a half a gallon.”

M.J. shook her head, fisted a hand on a hip covered with a tattered T-shirt and equally tattered shorts. “Just because you slept with him, doesn't mean you know him, either. You're usually a hell of a lot more careful than that, Grace. You might let other people assume you pop into bed with a new guy every other night, but we know better. What the hell were you thinking of?”

“I was thinking of
me,
” she shot back. “I wanted him. I needed him. He's the first man who's ever really touched me. And I'm not going to let you stand there and make something beautiful into something cheap.”

No one spoke for a moment. Bailey stood near the table, the creamer in one hand. M.J. slowly straightened from the counter, whistled out a breath. “You're falling for him.” Staggered, she raked a hand through her hair. “You're really falling for him.”

“I've already hit the ground with a splat. So what?”

“I'm sorry.” M.J. struggled to adjust. She didn't have to like the man, she told herself. She just had to love Grace. “There must be something to him, if he got to you. Are you sure you're okay with it?”

“No, I'm not sure I'm okay with it.” Temper drained, and doubt snuck in. “I don't know why it's happened or what to do about it. I just know it is. It wasn't just sex.” She remembered how he had held her while she cried. How he'd left the light on for her without her having to ask. “I've been waiting for him all my life.”

“I know what that means.” Bailey set the creamer down, took Grace's hand. “Exactly.”

“So do I.” With a sigh, M.J. stepped forward. “What's happening to us? We're three sensible women, and suddenly we're guarding ancient mythical stones, running from bad guys and falling headlong into love with men we've just met. It's crazy.”

“It's right,” Bailey said quietly. “You know it feels right.”

“Yeah.” M.J. laid her hand over theirs. “I guess it does.”

 

It wasn't easy for Grace to go back into her house. This time, though, she wasn't alone. M.J. and Jack flanked her like bookends.

“Man.” Scanning the wreck of the living area, M.J. hissed out a breath. “I thought they did a number on my place. Of course, you've got a lot more toys to play with.”

Then her gaze focused on the splintered railing.
And the outline below. “You don't want to do this now, Grace.”

“The police cleared the scene. I have to get started on it sometime.”

M.J. shook her head. “Where?”

“I'll start in the bedroom.” Grace managed a smile. “I'm about to make my dry cleaner a millionaire.”

“I'll see what I can do with the railing,” Jack told her. “Jury-rig something so it's safe until you have it rebuilt.”

“I'd appreciate it.”

“Go on up,” M.J. suggested. “I'll get a broom. And a bulldozer.” She waited until Grace was upstairs before she turned to Jack. “I'm going to do this down here. Get rid of…things.” Her gaze wandered to the outline. “She shouldn't have to handle that.”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You're a stand-up pal, M.J.”

“Yeah, that's me.” She inhaled sharply. “Let's see if we can dig up the stereo or the TV out of this mess. I could use some racket in here.”

 

It took most of the afternoon before Grace was satisfied that the house was cleared out enough to call in her cleaning service. She wanted every room scrubbed before she lived there again.

And she was determined to do just that. To live, to be at home, to face whatever ghosts remained. To prove to herself that she could, she separated from M.J. and Jack and went shopping for the first replacements. Then, because the entire day had left her feeling raw, she stopped by Salvinis.

She needed to see Bailey.

And she needed to see the Stars.

Once she was buzzed in, she found Bailey up in her office on the phone. With a smile, Bailey gestured her in. “Yes, Dr. Linstrum, I'm faxing the report to you now, and I'll bring you the original personally before five. I can complete the final tests you've ordered tomorrow.”

She listened a moment, ran a finger down the soapstone elephant on her desk. “No, I'm fine. I appreciate your concern, and your understanding. The Stars are my priority. I'll have full copies of all the reports for your insurance carrier by end of business day Friday. Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”

“You're working very quickly,” Grace commented.

“Despite all that happened, hardly any time was lost. And everyone will feel more comfortable when the stones are in the museum.”

“I want to see them again, Bailey.” She let out a little laugh. “It's silly, but I really need to. I had this dream last night—nightmare, really.”

“What kind of dream?”

Grace sat on the edge of the desk and told her. Though her voice was steady, her fingers tapped with nerves.

“I had dreams, too,” Bailey murmured. “I'm still having them. So is M.J.”

Uneasy, Grace shifted. “Like mine?”

“Similar enough to be more than coincidence.” She rose, held out a hand for Grace's. “Let's go take a look.”

“You're not breaking any laws, are you?”

As they walked downstairs together, Bailey sent her an amused look. “I think after what I've already done, this is a minor infraction.” She tried to block it, but a shudder escaped as they descended the last flight of steps, under which she'd once hidden from a killer.

“Are you going to be all right here?” Instinctively Grace hooked an arm around Bailey's shoulder. “I hate thinking of what happened, and now thinking of you working here, remembering it.”

“It's getting better. Grace, I've had my stepbrothers cremated. Or rather, Cade took care of the arrangements. He wouldn't let me handle any of it.”

“Good for him. You don't owe them anything, Bailey. You never did. We're your family. We always will be.”

“I know.”

She passed into the vault room and approached the massive reinforced-steel doors. The security system was complex and intricate, and even with the ease of long practice, it took Bailey three full minutes to disengage.

“Maybe I ought to have one of these installed in my house,” Grace said lightly. “That bastard popped my library safe like it was a gumball machine. He must have fenced the jewelry fast. I hate losing the pieces you made for me.”

“I'll make you more. In fact—” Bailey picked up a square velvet box “—let's start now.”

Curious, Grace opened the box to a pair of heavy gold earrings. The smooth crescent-shaped gold was studded with stones in deep, dark hues of emerald, ruby and sapphire.

“Bailey, they're beautiful.”

“I'd just finished them before…well, before. As soon as I had, I knew they were yours.”

“It's not my birthday.”

“I thought you were dead.” Bailey's voice shook, then strengthened when Grace looked up. “I thought I would never see you again. So let's consider these a celebration of the rest of our lives.”

Grace removed the simple studs in her ears, began to replace them with Bailey's gift. “When I'm
not wearing them, I'll keep them with my mother's jewelry. The things that matter most.”

“They look perfect on you. I knew they would.” Bailey turned, took the heavy padded box from its shelf in the vault. Holding it between them, she opened it.

Grace let out a long, uneven sigh. “I honestly thought one would be gone. I would drive up to the mountains and find it in my garden, sitting on the ground beneath the flowers. It was so real, Bailey.”

Reaching out, Grace took a stone. Her stone. “I felt it in my hand, just as I do now. It pulsed in my hand like a heart.” She laughed a little, but the sound was hollow. “My heart. That's what it seemed like. I didn't realize that until now. It was like holding my own heart.”

“There's a link.” A little pale, Bailey took another stone from the box. “I don't understand it, but I know it. This is the Star I had. If M.J. was here, she'd have picked hers.”

“I never thought I believed in this sort of thing.” Grace turned the stone in her hand. “I was wrong. It's incredibly easy to believe it. To know it. Are we protecting them, Bailey, or are they protecting us?”

“I like to think it's both. They brought me Cade.” Gently, she replaced her stone, touched a
fingertip to the second Star in its hollow. “Brought M.J. Jack.” Her face softened. “I opened up the showroom for them a little while ago,” she told Grace. “Jack dragged her in and bought her a ring.”

“A ring?” Grace lifted a hand to her heart as it swelled. “An engagement ring?”

“An engagement ring. She argued the whole time, kept telling him not to be a jerk. She didn't need any ring. He just ignored her and pointed to this lovely green tourmaline—square-cut, with diamond baguettes. I designed it a few months ago, thinking that it would make a wonderful, nontraditional engagement ring for the right woman. He knew she was the right woman.”

“He's perfect for her.” Grace brushed a tear from her lashes and beamed. “I knew it as soon as I saw them together.”

“I wish you'd seen them today. There she is, grumbling, rolling her eyes, insisting all this fuss is a waste of time and effort. Then he put that ring on her finger. She got this big, sloppy grin on her face. You know the one.”

“Yeah.” And she could see it, perfectly. “I'm so happy for her, for you. It's like all that love was there, waiting, and the stones…” She looked down at them again. “They opened the door for it.”

“And you, Grace? Have they opened the door for you?”

“I don't know if I'm ready for that.” Nerves suddenly sprang to her fingertips. She laid the stone back in its bed. “Seth certainly wouldn't be. I don't think he'd believe in magic of any sort. And as for love…even if that door is wide open and the opportunity is there, he's not a man to fall easily.”

“Easy or not—” Bailey closed the lid, replaced the box “—when you're meant to fall, you fall. He's yours, Grace. I saw that in your eyes this morning.”

“Well.” Grace swallowed the nerves. “I think I may wait awhile to let him in on that.”

T
here were flowers waiting for her when Grace returned to Cade's. A gorgeous crystal vase was filled with long spears of paper-white long-stemmed roses. Her heart thudded foolishly into her throat as she snatched up the card, tore open the envelope.

Then it deflated and sank.

Not from Seth, she noted. Of course, it had been silly of her to think that he'd have indulged in such a romantic and extravagant gesture. The card read simply:

 

Until we meet again,

Gregor

The ambassador with the oddly compelling eyes, she mused, and leaned forward to sniff at the tender, just-opening blooms. It had been sweet of him, she told herself. A bit over-the-top, as there were easily three dozen roses in the vase, but sweet.

And she was irritated to realize that if they had been from Seth, she would have mooned over them like a starstruck teenager, would likely have pressed one between the pages of a book, even shed a few tears. She berated herself for being six times a fool.

If these appalling highs and lows were side effects of being in love, Grace thought she could have waited quite a bit longer to experience the sensation. She was just about to toss the card on the table when the phone rang.

She hesitated, as both Cade's and Jack's cars were in the drive, but when the phone rang the third time, she picked it up. “Parris residence.”

“Is Grace Fontaine available?” The crisp tones of a well-trained secretary sounded in her ear. “Ambassador DeVane calling.”

“Yes, this is she.”

“One moment, please, Ms. Fontaine.”

Lips pursed thoughtfully, Grace flipped the edge of the card against her palm. The man certainly
had had no trouble tracking her down, Grace mused. And just how was she going to handle him?

“Grace.” His voice flowed through the phone. “How delightful to speak with you again.”

“Gregor.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder, edged a hip onto the table. “How extravagant of you. I've just walked in to your roses.” She tipped one down, sniffed again. “They're glorious.”

“Merely a token. I was disappointed not to have more time with you last evening. You left so early.”

She thought of the wild ride to Seth's, the wilder sex. “I had…a previous engagement.”

“Perhaps we can make up for it tomorrow evening. I have a box at the theater.
Tosca.
It's such a beautiful tragedy. There's nothing I would enjoy more than sharing it with you, then a late supper, perhaps.”

“It sounds lovely.” She rolled her eyes toward the flowers. Oh, dear, she thought. This would never do. “I'm so terribly sorry, Gregor, but I'm not free.” With no regret whatsoever, she set the card aside. “Actually, I'm involved with someone, quite seriously.”

For me, in any case, she thought. Then she looked through the glass panels of the front door,
and her face lit up with surprise and pleasure when she saw Seth's car pull in.

“I see.” She was too busy trying to steady her abruptly dancing pulse to notice how his voice had chilled. “Your escort of last evening.”

“Yes. I'm terribly flattered, Gregor, and if I were any less involved, I'd leap at the invitation. I hope you'll forgive me, and understand.”

Struggling not to squirm with delight, she crooked her finger in invitation as Seth stepped up to the door.

“Of course. If your circumstances change, I hope you'll reconsider.”

“I certainly will.” With a sultry smile, she walked her fingers up Seth's chest. “And thank you again, Gregor, so much, for the flowers. They're divine.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, and his hands balled into bone-white fists as he hung up the receiver.

Humiliated, he thought, snapping his teeth together, grinding them viciously. Rejected for a suitful of muscles and a badge.

She would pay, he promised himself, taking her photo from his file and gently tapping a well-manicured finger against it. She would pay dearly. And soon.

With the ambassador completely forgotten the
moment the connection was broken, Grace tipped her face up to Seth's. “Hello, handsome.”

He didn't kiss her, but looked at the flowers, then at the card she'd tossed carelessly beside them. “Another conquest?”

“Apparently.” She heard the cold distance in his tone and wasn't certain whether to be flattered or annoyed. She opted for a different tack altogether, and purred. “The ambassador was interested in an evening at the opera and…whatever.”

The spurt of jealousy infuriated him. It was a new experience, and one he detested. It left him helpless, made him want to drag her out to his car by the hair, cart her off, lock her up where only he could see and touch and taste.

But more, there was fear, for her. A bone-deep sense of danger.

“It seems the ambassador—and you—move quickly.”

No, she realized, the temper was going to come. There was no stopping it. She eased off the table, her smile an icy dare. “I move however it suits me. You should know.”

“Yes.” He dipped his hands into his pockets to keep them off her. “I should. I do.”

Crushed, she angled her chin, aimed those laser blue eyes. “Which am I now, Lieutenant? The whore or the goddess? The ivory princess atop the
pedestal, or the tramp? I've been them all—it just depends on the man and how he chooses to look.”

“I'm looking at you,” he said calmly. “And I don't know what I see.”

“Let me know when you make up your mind.” She started to move around him, came up short when he took her arm. “Don't push me.” She tossed her head so that her hair flew out, settled.

“I could say the same, Grace.”

She drew in one hot, deep breath, shoved his hand aside. “If you're interested, I gave the ambassador my regrets and told him I was involved with someone.” She flashed a frigid smile and swung toward the stairs. “That, apparently, was my mistake.”

He scowled after her, considered striding up the stairs of a house that wasn't his own and finishing the confrontation—one way or the other. Appalled, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tried to squeeze off the bitter headache plaguing him.

His day had been grueling, and had ended ten long hours after it began, with him staring at the group of photos on his board. Photos of the dead who were waiting for him to find the connection.

And he was already furious with himself because he'd already begun to run a search for data on Gregor DeVane. He couldn't be sure if he had
done so due to a basic cop's hunch, or a man's territorial instinct. Or the dreams. It was a question, and a conflict, he'd never had to face before.

But one answer was clear as glass. He'd been out of line with Grace. He was still standing by the foyer table, frowning at the steps and weighing his options, when Cade strolled in from the rear of the house.

“Buchanan.” More than a little surprised to see the homicide lieutenant standing in his foyer scowling, Cade stopped, scratched his jaw. “Ah, I didn't know you were here.”

He had no business being there, Seth reminded himself. “Sorry. Grace let me in.”

“Oh.” After one beat, Cade pinpointed the source of the heat still flashing in the air. “Oh,” he said again, and wisely controlled a grin. “Fine. Something I can do for you?”

“No. I'm just leaving.”

“Have a spat?”

Seth turned his head, met Cade's obviously amused eyes blandly. “Excuse me?”

“Just a wild stab in the dark. What did you do to tick her off?” Though Seth didn't answer, Cade noted that his gaze shifted briefly to the roses. “Oh, yeah. Guess you didn't send them, huh? If some guy sent Bailey three dozen white roses, I'd
probably have to stuff them down his throat, one at a time.”

It was the gleam of appreciation that flashed briefly in Seth's eyes that made Cade decide to revise his stance. Maybe he could like Lieutenant Seth Buchanan after all.

“Want a beer?”

The casual and friendly invitation threw Seth off balance. “I— No, I was leaving.”

“Come on out back. Jack and I already popped a couple of tops. We're going to fire up the grill and show the women how real men cook.” Cade's grin spread charmingly. “Besides, oiling yourself with a couple of brews will make it easier for you to crawl. You're going to crawl anyway, so you might as well be comfortable.”

Seth hissed out a breath. “Why the hell not?”

 

Grace stayed stubbornly in her room for an hour. She could hear laughter, music, and the silly whack of mallets striking balls as people played an enthusiastic game of croquet. She knew Seth's car was still in the drive, and had promised herself she wouldn't go back down until it was gone.

But she was feeling deprived, and hungry.

Since she'd already changed into shorts and a thin cotton shirt, she paused at the mirror only long enough to freshen her lipstick, spritz on some per
fume. Just to make him suffer, she told herself, then sauntered downstairs and out onto the patio.

Steaks were smoking on the grill with Cade at the helm wielding an enormous barbecue fork. Bailey and Jack were arguing over the croquet match, and M.J. was sulking at a picnic table while she nibbled on potato chips.

“Jack knocked me out of the game,” she complained, and gestured with her beer. “I still say he cheated.”

“Any time you lose,” Grace pointed out as she picked up a chip, “it's because someone cheated.” Then she slid her gaze to Seth.

He'd taken off his tie, she noted, and his jacket. He still wore his holster. She imagined that was because he didn't feel comfortable hanging his gun over a tree branch. He, too, had a beer in his hand, and was watching the game with apparent interest.

“You still here?”

“Yeah.” He'd had two beers, but didn't think crawling was going to be any more comfortable with the lubricant. “I've been invited to dinner.”

“Isn't that cozy?” Grace spied what she recognized as a pitcher of M.J.'s special margaritas and poured herself a glass. The taste was tart, icy, and perfect. In dismissal, she wandered over to the grill to kibitz.

“I know what I'm doing,” Cade was saying,
and shifted to guard his territory as Seth joined them. “I marinated these vegetable kabobs personally. Go away and leave this to a man.”

“I was merely asking if you preferred your mushrooms blackened.”

Cade sent her a withering look. “Get her off my back, Seth. An artist can't work with critics breathing down his neck and picking on his mushrooms.”

“Let's go over here.” Seth took her elbow, and was braced for her jerk. He kept his grip firm and hauled her away into the rose garden.

“I don't want to talk to you,” Grace said furiously.

“You don't have to talk. I'll talk.” But it took him a minute. Apologies didn't come easily to a man who made it a habit not to make mistakes. “I'm sorry. I overreacted.”

She said nothing, simply folded her arms and waited.

“You want more?” He nodded, didn't bother to sigh. “I was jealous, an atypical reaction for me, and I handled it poorly. I apologize.”

Grace shook her head. “That's the weakest excuse for an apology I've ever heard. Not the words, Seth, the delivery. But fine, I'll accept it in the same spirit it was offered.”

“What do you want from me?” he demanded,
frustrated enough to raise his voice and grab her arms. “What the hell do you want?”

“That.” She tossed back her head. “Just that. A little emotion, a little passion. You can take your cardboard-stiff apology and stuff it, just like you can stuff the cold, deliberate and dispassionate routine you gave me over the flowers. That icy control doesn't cut it with me. If you feel something—whatever the hell it is—then let me know.”

She sucked in her breath, stunned, when he yanked her against him, savaged her mouth with heat and anger and need. She twisted once and was hauled roughly back. Then was left weak and singed and shaken by the time he drew away.

“Is that enough for you?” He hauled her to her toes, his fingers digging in. His eyes weren't dispassionate now, weren't cool, but turbulent. Human. “Enough emotion, enough passion? I don't like to lose control. You can't afford to lose control on the job.”

Her breath was heaving. And her heart was flying. “This isn't the job.”

“No, but it was supposed to be.” He willed his grip to loosen. “You were supposed to be. I can't get you out of my head. Damn it, Grace. I can't get you out.”

She laid a hand on his cheek, felt the muscle
twitch. “It's the same for me. Maybe the only difference right now is that I want it to be that way.”

For how long? he wondered, but he didn't say it. “Come home with me.”

“I'd love to.” She smiled, stroked her fingers back, into his hair. “But I think we'd better stay for dinner, at least. Otherwise, we'd break Cade's heart.”

“After dinner, then.” It wasn't difficult at all, he discovered, to bring her hands to his lips, linger over them, then look into her eyes. “I am sorry. But, Grace—?”

“Yes?”

“If DeVane calls you again, or sends flowers?”

Her lips twitched. “Yes?”

“I'll have to kill him.”

With a delighted laugh, she threw her arms around Seth's neck. “Now we're talking.”

 

“That was nice.” With a satisfied sigh, Grace sank down in the seat of Seth's car and watched the moon shimmer in the sky. “I like seeing the four of them together. But it's funny. It's as if I blinked, and everyone took this huge, giant step forward.”

“Red light, green light.”

Confused, Grace turned her head to look at him. “What?”

“The game—the kid's game? You know, the person who's it has to say, ‘Green light,' turn his back. Everybody can go forward, but then he says, ‘Red light' and spins around. If he sees anybody move, they have to go back to the start.”