This Perfect Kiss (28 page)

Dragging his gaze off the sight, Rory rubbed his temple. “Paul and Tran are in the kitchen. That way.” He pointed in the general direction, then watched as the group turned and shuffled
off in a ragtag line. That calf-bleat he’d recently found himself capable of slid past his lips when he noticed that the last FreeWester—the only one who’d appeared seminormal from the front—wore his hair in waist-length dreadlocks.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God
. Rory couldn’t even think of a swear word strong enough to cover this situation. And the hell of it was, there was nothing he could do about it. Any moment, guests were expected to arrive. Little did they know it was for a “Come as Rory’s Worst Nightmare” party.

Once the FreeWesters disappeared from sight, he swung back toward Jilly, a red-and-pink target for all his frustration and foreboding. “This is your fault,” he said.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. The jewels in her hair flashed. “You’re not going to pin your problems on me.”

Oh, yes, he was. Because she’d descended on Caidwater like a plague, upsetting, tormenting, turning upside down and sideways every plan he’d made. “I wouldn’t be in this fix if it wasn’t for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Which fix would that be?”

He made a wild gesture with his hand. “Scandals, oddballs, freaks, flakes! Just when I’m getting my life in order, you surf in and curse it with your do-gooder schemes and your dopey friends.”

“Friends so dopey they gave up their evening to help you out of a jam. You needed them, remember?”

He hated that she had a point. “If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have put tuna salad on Saltine crackers and served it myself instead of letting those loons into the house. What the hell are the guests going to think?”

Jilly shrugged. “Maybe they’ll surprise you and look below the surface to see the good people they are. You could stand to do a little of that yourself, you know.”

He clenched his teeth. “A little of what?”

“Looking deeper.” Color rose up her throat and cheeks. “I bet you haven’t spent two seconds in the last ten years scratching beneath the surface. Why don’t you devote a couple of minutes to self-improvement and try to see inside my friends, me, yourself even.”

His blood was starting to heat. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that if you look beneath the surface, Rory, you might find something surprising.”

He said the first thing that came into his head. “The only thing that’s surprised me lately is finding a woman who turned away from a whole aspect of life—from sex—because she was afraid one old lady’s prediction would come true. You let that fear control you for years. How’s that for scratching the surface?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and then looked away. “Forget it. Don’t even bother looking inward, Rory. I’m suddenly certain there’s nothing inside you. Not flesh, not blood, not heart. Nothing.”

That he thought he might have hurt her made him even madder. His blood heated another few
degrees. “Oh, you can dish it out, darling, but you just can’t take it, can you? I’ve looked inside you, my sweet, and see a woman so trapped in the past and so caught up in proving something to someone else that she doesn’t have a clue what she wants for herself.”

Her gaze instantly snapped back to him. “And I can say the same thing of you,” she retorted. “Do you really want to hold public office? Is all this concern over propriety and perfection something you
really
care about? Or do you just want people to think ‘senator’ instead of ‘scandal’ when they hear the Kincaid name?”

His blood boiled over. “I’m sick of that question, dammit. All that I care about is supposed to come true tonight. The name Kincaid, for once, is supposed to be associated with something honorable and worthwhile. But I see it slipping through my fingers, thanks to you.”

She flinched, and all the starch left her spine. Her hand pressed against her stomach—right over that crazy, distracting ruby. “Fine,” she said, her voice now quiet and suddenly devoid of emotion. “If it’s really what you want, Rory, then you can have it. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.
Just close your fingers
. Hold on tight and don’t let go.”

Trying to ignore the new bruises on her broken heart, Jilly watched Rory’s mouth open. But before he could get out another word, Uncle Fitz and his Blue Party entourage surged through the front door. Rory was forced to move forward to greet them and Jilly used his distraction to slip away.

Unsure of what to do next, she escaped in the direction of the soft, calming strains of a violin. She found herself on the back terrace, where white fairy lights were wound around the stone balustrades. The gardens below were lit as well, turning the Caidwater grounds into a magical, romantic kingdom.

A champagne glass was placed in her palm, cold liquid sloshing a little to drip on her fingers. “Congratulate me,” Kim said.

Jilly turned. “You’re back. And—” The twinkling lights caught in the fire of the diamond on Kim’s left hand. “You did it. You’re married.” Despite how sick she felt inside, Jilly smiled.

Kim touched the edge of her glass to Jilly’s.
Clink
. “Yes.” She grinned. “We actually did it. I can’t believe how happy I am.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jilly whispered, emotion tightening her throat. “That’s so, so wonderful.”

With twin movements, they both took big gulps of the champagne. Kim laughed almost giddily and Jilly blinked, startled by the lighthearted sound. Kim’s brown eyes sparkled and her face was flushed. She looked…she looked
alive
.

“Greg must be good for you,” Jilly said.

Kim nodded. “And I’m going to be good
to
him. Iris, too.” She hesitated. “We haven’t told her I’m her mother…we’re talking about how best to do that, but she’s going to know the truth. I promise that. No more secrets.”

Jilly frowned. “Has Greg talked to Rory—”

“Don’t worry.” Kim put her hand on Jilly’s arm. “It’s our problem now. I should never have let you go into my battles for me. I see that. But we’ll handle it from here.”

Jilly stared down at the tiny bubbles rising to the top of her glass. “I’m sorry I messed up,” she said.

“No.”
Kim patted Jilly’s arm. “That’s not what I meant. But you should be living your own life, not trying to fix mine.”

“What life?” Jilly whispered. When she’d talked her way into the job at Caidwater, she’d thought reuniting Kim and Iris would make her life complete. She’d thought it would be like reuniting with her own mother. But Jilly realized now that it wasn’t going to work. Big pieces of herself were still missing.

“Oh, Jilly.” Kim’s forehead pleated in concern.
“Why are you here tonight anyhow? I thought you and Rory had parted ways.”

Jilly opened her mouth, but no good answer came out. Three days ago she’d been absurdly happy to see him outside the window of French Letters, then absurdly angry at the way he’d instantly ordered her around. In the end, though, she’d agreed to attend the party. Maybe because it
was
the end. She had to witness it.

After tonight, whatever it was they’d had together would be like a dream. A fantasy. “I just had to see it through,” Jilly said. “To see it really be over.”

“Why don’t you tell him you don’t want it to be over? Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

“What?” Jilly’s eyes widened. “Rory doesn’t want the love of a woman like me.”

“Oh, sure,” Kim scoffed. “That’s why he insisted on that engagement. That’s why he bargained you into his bed.”

Jilly bit her lip. So maybe he wanted her, but it was in the way that someone wanted what was worst for himself. And there was another reason for not telling Rory the truth. The most important reason of all.

“What if he used my feelings against me?” she whispered hoarsely. That was her grandmother’s lesson. Love could be used to hurt, to manipulate, to humiliate. She wouldn’t give someone that power over her again.

“Jilly…” Kim said. There was an ache in her voice that matched the ache in Jilly’s heart.

Movement caught her eye and she took the
champagne glass out of her friend’s hand. “Greg’s over there trying to get your attention. You better go see what he wants.”

With one last concerned look, Kim hurried toward her new husband. Jilly leaned against the balustrade and watched her walk away. Kim was really walking toward a new life, she thought. That also was the result of this interlude with Rory.

She’d lost Kim. For four years it had been Jilly and Kim against the world. Their business and their friendship had given Jilly a focus and a purpose. But now, now Kim had Greg and her daughter. Jilly didn’t begrudge her that, not for a second, but it meant that their lives were going to change. It meant that she was alone again, just like all those years growing up in that gray-and-white house.

She closed her eyes tightly, suppressing a cold wave that threatened to sweep her away. Loneliness was like that, dark and engulfing, but she would find a way to fight it.

It was silly to feel so sad, she told herself. Silly, because she’d been alone most of her life. Surely she wouldn’t have trouble managing it again.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. Caidwater was filling up with guests and many had already spilled onto the terrace. Through the French doors she could see Rory standing in the library with the senator. Obviously at ease in his evening clothes, he looked expensive and accomplished, and his exotic features made him only that much more compelling.

She shivered, remembering his warm hands moving slowly on her skin, the laugh in his voice
when he admitted to his bedhead affliction, the way his body fit hers like a key in a lock. Despite all her vows, he’d opened up her sensuality and her heart.

He turned his head as a beautiful blond woman, in an icy blue column of a dress, joined him. Rory bent and kissed her lips. It was nothing more than a casual salute, but it went halfway to squeezing the air from Jilly’s lungs. The rest was taken by the less-than-casual grip the tall woman took on his arm. This was the type of woman Rory wanted. This was the type of woman who matched what he wanted for his life.

Jilly turned her back on the sight and looked out over the gardens. Well. There it was. The end. She’d seen it through and she’d survived. At least it couldn’t get any worse.

But then a familiar, expensive fragrance drifted toward her. Someone called in her direction.

“Gillian.” It was the old name in the unforgettable voice. It was the past rising up and the distinct feeling that yes, indeed, it could get much, much worse.

One hand braced on the solid rock balustrade, Jilly turned. That dark and engulfing loneliness rose up again, but she pretended she didn’t feel its chill against her back.

“Jilly, Grandmother, not Gillian,” she said, looking coolly at the woman who had raised her but never loved her. “My mother wanted me to be called Jilly, and that’s who I am.”

Rory disentangled himself from Lisa’s clutches. He needed to check on the party’s progress and,
more important, on Jilly’s whereabouts. Their argument had left him with a bad taste in his mouth and a cold heaviness in his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to apologize or go a few more rounds, but he just knew he had to be with her.

“Excuse me,” he said, politely smiling at the senator. “But I need to tend to a few things.”

The older man bent his silver head. “But come back soon, son. And bring Gillian—Jilly—with you, too. I want your announcement as soon as possible and she should be at your side. Then tonight can be a celebration.”

The announcement. Rory touched the crumpled speech in his pocket and beat off the cloying cloud that was descending lower. He pasted on another smile. “Soon, sir.”

Thinking he’d caught a glimpse of Jilly outside, he hurried through the French doors and onto the terrace. But once there, he was immediately stopped by the head of the security force he’d hired for the evening. “Mr. Kincaid,” the man said over the soft play of the orchestra. His expression was serious.

Rory frowned. “A problem?”

“There’s some press at the gatehouse. They have credentials, but they’re not on the list.”

“Credentials? What pr—?” He broke off, his attention snagged by the sight of Jilly. She was standing at the far end of the terrace, against the balustrade, her posture tense and stiff. A small frown wrinkled her brow as she listened to a gray-haired woman in front of her.

“Rory?” Aura drifted toward him, holding a tray of canapés. “Would you object to me passing out my business card?”

His head swung toward her. “What?”

She nudged the tray into the hands of the security guard, who reflexively closed his fingers over it. Then she dug into the pocket of her red vest and drew out a small stack of cards. “I always carry them. Who knows when a person might need my kind of help?”

“Sir?” the security guard asked. “What do you want me to tell the team at the gatehouse?”

A too-thin woman with an oversprayed hairdo touched Aura on the back of her arm. “Are you the one doing readings tonight? I’m Gemini, Virgo rising.”

Aura smiled at the lady. “Just a moment, dear. Rory? Do you mind?”

Rory was distracted from answering when the older woman talking to Jilly turned. Her familiar face gave him a jolt and he searched his memory banks for her name.
Ah
. Dorothy Baxter. The senator had introduced them at another fund-raiser several months before.

Dorothy Baxter was an old and generous friend of the senator’s and therefore an important friend of the Blue Party as well. What was she doing with Jilly?

“Rory? Rory?” Aura again. “May I pass out my card?”

“Mr. Kincaid? The press?” The security guard still gingerly grasped the tray.

Rory’s attention snapped back to the questions
at hand. The press. He thought swiftly. “If they’re not on the list but they have credentials, they can come in. No cameras, though.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard nodded, then looked down at the tray of canapés in his hand and then over at Aura, who was lost in conversation with her wannabe client.

With a sigh, Rory took the tray himself. As the security guard moved off, Rory saw Jilly abruptly begin to walk away from Mrs. Baxter, but the older lady said something that made her reluctantly turn back.

He frowned, Jilly’s obvious dismay setting off warning bells.
What was going on
? He took a step in her direction, but was halted by the Blue Party’s Charlie Jax. The man put his hand on Rory’s arm and spoke in his ear. “Now, Rory,” he ordered. “The senator wants you to make that announcement now.”

Rory tightened his fingers on the silver tray, Jax’s tone and the knowledge that he had to pay attention to it grating on his nerves. “Okay. I’m on my w—”

Mrs. Mack rushed up to him, her expression anxious. “Mr. Greg is leaving. I—I don’t know what to do. But he has suitcases. And Iris. I know you wanted her to be at the party.”

Suitcases. And Iris.

Charlie Jax tugged on Rory’s arm. “We want you to make that announcement
now
, Rory.”

What the hell was Greg doing? Rory wondered. Shaking himself free of Jax, he shoved the tray toward Mrs. Mack. “I’ll be back when I can,” he said, then pushed Jax in Aura’s direction.

Without missing a beat, the astrologer turned away from the Gemini, Virgo rising, she’d been speaking with and grabbed the politico’s palm. Aura smiled serenely. “Let me see here…”

Rory ignored Jax’s panicked look and dashed inside.

The senator caught sight of him rushing through the library and called out, “Rory! Don’t you—”

“Just a minute, sir.” Rory waved his hand and sped by. In the foyer, guests continued to pour through the front door, but there was no sign of Greg, or suitcases, or Iris. His stomach clenching, he headed down another corridor in the direction of the kitchen. Maybe they would use the service entrance.

Barreling through the kitchen door, he braked to a halt. A scene of controlled bustle greeted him, with Paul and Tran moving quickly between trays and the refrigerator. But at the far right of the room, the door leading outside was open and three people were preparing to exit, each gripping a suitcase. Greg, Iris, and Kim. Kim, Iris’s mother.

The resemblance between them startled him now, and he was shocked he hadn’t realized it before. As he watched, Kim untangled Iris’s long blond hair from the strap of the small duffel she had slung over her shoulder. The little girl ignored the gesture and ignored the woman. But Kim’s expression of patient yearning struck Rory like a blow to the chest.

As if she sensed his gaze, she looked up and met his eyes. Her jaw firmed, and she touched Greg on the shoulder. A loving touch.

Greg’s head turned and he saw Rory. Greg and Kim slowly set down the suitcases they carried. Only Iris seemed unaware of the simmering tension among the three adults.

Rory strode toward them. “Where are you going?”

Greg rested his palm on top of Iris’s head. “I’m ferrying some things to my new house. Kim and Iris are coming with me. We’ll be back.”

Rory narrowed his gaze. “You’re sure about that?”

“I’m not running away. But I
am
taking control this time, Rory. I’m not going to back down.”

“No.” The low, clear voice of Jilly’s partner, Greg’s wife, broke in. “
I’m
taking control.”

She walked toward Rory, then held out her hand. “Kim…Kincaid.”

He heard her slight hesitation at the last name and wondered if it wasn’t such a comfortable fit for her either, considering the past. Her grip was unhesitating, though.

“I need to make an appointment with you,” she said.

Rory took a deep breath. God. This woman was not only his former stepgrandmother but also his new sister-in-law.

“Greg! Greg Kincaid!” Suddenly two men crowded the kitchen doorway. The discarded suitcases blocked them from entering, but still a flashbulb went off. “
Celeb!
magazine here. Is it true you were married in Las Vegas yesterday?”

“Is this your new wife?” Another flash. “Kim Sullivan Kincaid Kincaid?”

Rory automatically moved between Kim and
the reporters just as Greg drew Iris behind him, but not before the man with the camera spotted the child. He nudged his loud-mouthed pal.