Forever My Love (19 page)

An anguished looked appeared in his eyes. His features constricted and a shudder seemed to rip through him. Then he leaned his hands against the door on either side of her head and kissed her lips gently. The words that he whispered seemed to be torn from him. “I love you, too, Kathy. I've always loved you, I will always love you, no matter…no matter where we are, no matter how far apart, no matter how many years go by.”

Her mouth went dry and she felt tears welling in her eyes. He loved her. He wanted her.

But he wasn't going to stay with her.

“Hey!” A fist thudded against the door. “What's taking the two of you so long? Hell, maybe I shouldn't be asking,” Robert muttered. “Listen, you're going to have a nice long night after this event. You're divorced. You're not supposed to even like each other anymore, so will you please come on!”

Bless Robert. She managed to smile into Brent's eyes, and then she laughed, and he managed to laugh, too, though the sound was just a bit pained. He took her hand and swung open the door. Robert almost fell in on top of them. “Finally,” he said. “If we're going to do this thing, let's do it!”

Kathy straightened Brent's tie. “You look great. Truly undercover.”

“Oh, honey, there's going to be so much security there tonight nothing could possibly happen. I promise.”

“Let's do it then,” Robert said.

Thirty minutes later they were in the full swing of the party.

It was a massive event, held in a beautiful contemporary home with twenty-foot windows that looked straight out over a huge patio and pool and the bay. People in beautiful and garish and outlandish costumes were posed all around—on stairways, in hallways and on the patio. Kathy greeted old friends, shrugged off her appearance with Brent, tried to avoid those who were determined to pin her, and at the same time keep an eye on Brent.

They hadn't been there for five minutes when Marla found Brent. Kathy greeted her very sweetly and didn't let out a murmur when Marla led Brent away. After all, she just might say the right thing.

But still, Kathy didn't want him where she couldn't see him. Not because of Marla, but because she was worried. Even if Robert was following him like a leech.

A tuxedoed waiter swept by with champagne glasses. Just as Kathy reached for one, hands slipped around her waist and she felt a friendly kiss on her cheek. She managed not to drop the champagne, to thank the waiter and spin around all at once.

“Keith!” she said. She put her arms around him, still balancing the champagne, and hugged him tight. She had always liked him.

“Kathy, it's so good to see you. You know, Brent has never been the same. We've missed you. We've all missed you. But you're here tonight. Does this mean—”

“You know what this means,” Kathy interrupted him. “Keith, I'm so sorry about your wife. And about Johnny.”

“Johnny,” Keith muttered. “Well, Johnny lived hard, and he died hard.”

He sounded bitter, Kathy thought. He was a handsome man, with intelligent, dark brown eyes, dark hair, and the look of one of yesteryear's composers. Beethoven, perhaps. But tonight he looked haggard, drained.

“Kathy, want to talk, really talk?” he asked her suddenly.

“Sure.”

He drew her outside. Workers were setting up for the bands and singers by the pool. Keith didn't want to be there. He drew her away from the house, into the trees. She followed him trustingly. He stopped at last, and he seemed to have difficulty breathing. “Kathy, do you know what's going on?”

She nodded. “Someone killed Johnny Blondell. Someone who grew angry. The same person who had Harry Robertson killed in jail. The same person—”

“Who probably killed my wife. Kathy, I was ill, I missed her so badly. But you know, this is terrible, I don't want to die myself. He's after a number. There's something stashed somewhere. Something of incredible value. And it's here and it's close, and we should all know it. Kathy, it's in the song.”

She shivered suddenly, feeling the coolness of the night breeze rake up her spine. “How do you know?” she said.

“Johnny called me up and said he had some of it figured out but he'd be damned if he was going to be double-crossed. He wanted to talk to Brent. He was all excited. I think Johnny might have been halfway in it with Harry.”

“But Johnny is dead.”

“Harry probably didn't trust Johnny. Oh, I don't think Johnny was in on the smuggling. But Harry told him something. Brent was the only one that Harry really trusted. That's why I think he stashed this thing somewhere purposely, using numbers that would mean something to Brent.”

Kathy shook her head. “I've been through the song, Keith. I've been through it and through it and—”

“Brent has to come up with something! Or else we're all going to die, Kathy. We're all going to die.”

“Kathy!”

Brent shouted her name, thrashing furiously through the trees. He snatched her by the shoulders, bringing her against his chest and staring furiously at Keith over her head. “What the hell are you doing, Keith?”

“Talking. I was just talking.”

“So you dragged her out here.”

Just then there was movement in the trees. Two guns were suddenly beneath their noses, held by hands attached to the arms of Steve and Jerry.

“We were with her all the time, Mr. McQueen. Honestly,” Steve said.

“Hey, what the hell—” Keith began.

“We were watching you, too, Mr. Montgomery,” Jerry promised him solemnly.

“Yeah, hell, Miami's finest,” Keith muttered. He looked at Brent. “You used to be my friend. Why don't you really try to keep us all alive, huh?” Then he swept past them.

“Sorry,” Steve said. “I guess we should have stayed in the bushes.”

Brent shook his head, looking after Keith. “No, no, it's all right.” He slipped an arm around Kathy's shoulder. “Let's get back in, shall we?”

They walked along a trail to the patio. Robert was waiting for them, watching them emerge from the trees.

“Everything all right?” he asked Brent.

“Yeah, fine,” Brent told him briefly.

“Good. I'll stay with Kathy. You're on stage in a few minutes.”

Brent nodded and disappeared. Kathy stood by Robert as a group of English brothers who had made it very big and bought property in south Florida came on. Their harmonies were legendary, and they put on a wonderful show. Kathy applauded enthusiastically. Then someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to receive a sloppy kiss and hug from each of the Hicks brothers.

Larry, blond and blue-eyed, looked her over openly, then grinned. “Okay, Kathy. Looking good. So you're together again. We're real glad.”

Thomas nodded. He was the more serious of the two. “It's good to see you, Kathy. Really good. I hope we see more of you. Although I don't know. We haven't had a chance to talk about doing anything else about the Highlanders.”

“Aren't you playing tonight?” she asked him.

He nodded again. “Yeah, sure. We just saw you and we had to stop.” He looked around her shoulder to Robert and nodded cordially, but he was wearing a small frown. “It's the fuzz, huh?” he muttered to Kathy.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess, you could say that. Robert, this is Thomas Hicks, and his brother, Larry Hicks, and—”

“Oh, hey, man, it's you!” Thomas laughed, greeting Robert. “I didn't recognize you in the duds, man. Lieutenant McGregor! Nice to see you. And thanks for being so conscientious. Those guys of yours have been with us like a second skin.”

Kathy was staring at them all curiously. “We met,” Robert explained to her. “I had to question everyone after the explosion that…that killed Johnny,” he said.

“Oh, of course,” Kathy murmured.

“We'll get together,” Larry said. “We'll all get together. Maybe we can solve it that way, huh?”

He waved to Kathy, then he and his brother were weaving their way to the stage. A few minutes later, after a pop female vocalist had done her number, Brent, Keith, Larry and Thomas were announced—as the Highlanders. Brent was at the mike saying in his husky voice that they were dedicating the night to Johnny Blondell. And then they were doing Highlander numbers, and the crowd was going crazy.

At the end, Brent announced that he was going to do an old favorite. And he sang “Forever My Love.”

There didn't seem to be a sound, a rustle of movement, as he sang. The song was haunting, beautiful. As it ended, Kathy knew he had chosen to do the song as their finale on purpose. He wanted to goad someone with it, to stir up something.

But then she realized that he was singing the song to her. His eyes sought her out in the crowd, and he was singing to her. And she felt his eyes with the same quivering excitement she had known all those years ago.

The last notes hung in the air. Then there was an explosion of applause that lasted and lasted. The Highlanders tried to leave the stage, and Kathy knew he was heading toward her, but it seemed like forever before he reached her.

When he did, she suddenly realized something. “Brent!”

“What?”

“I've got it!”

“What?”

“Well, I haven't got all of it, but I've got some of it, I think.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Robert was turning to them. She didn't want to share this with Robert. Not yet. Only with Brent.

“Can we go?” she asked.

“Now?”

She sighed with exasperation. “Well, you had your little chitchat with Marla, didn't you?”

“Yes—”

“Then let's go! Please, Brent, I think I've got something.”

“All right, all right.”

“What's all right?” Robert demanded.

“Kathy wants to go. She's—tired.”

Robert nodded. He seemed disappointed. “Sure. Let's go.”

When they reached the house Kathy warmly kissed Robert good night, then warned Brent with her eyes that she didn't want him to discuss the night's happenings with Robert forever.

Still it was almost thirty minutes before he came into the bedroom. “He wanted to know everything Marla had to say.”

“What did she have to say?” Kathy demanded.

“Not much. Except that Johnny talked to her. And Johnny said Harry had told him I was the key to the whole thing, that the answer was in the song. But I'll still be damned if I see—”

“But I do!” Kathy exclaimed. “It's in the article.” She pulled the article from the box. “Brent, only someone who knew you well could see it. I don't have the number yet, but I think I know where!”

“Where?” he demanded, puzzled.

“There's a line about the bay and a paragraph where you talked about the writing of the song. You mention your old house and how you could see the bay and—” She paused, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to remember. He did.

“The warehouses by the bay. They all have combination locks. And combination locks mean numbers.”

Kathy shook her head emphatically. “Yes.”

“I still don't have the number.”

“It's in the music, Brent. It has to be in the music.”

He nodded. Then he laughed and kissed her. He spun her off her feet, seeming to fly with her off the ground, and they landed on the mattress. He demanded excitedly, “Do you know what I'm going to do now?”

“Work on the music?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “No. Now I'm going to get to take this whisper of satin and shimmer off you, my love.”

His eyes were gold and sparkling. His whisper was husky and provocative, and he had called her his love.

Suddenly she didn't care what the future might bring. She wanted only the magic of the night.

Chapter 10

She lay in a froth of white and satin and sparkle. He'd watched her from the time they'd reached the party that night, watched the material swirl around her, watched the rhinestones catch the light. He'd seen the easy sway of her walk and he'd listened to the sound of her laughter. He'd found himself praying just to have the night, no matter what came after. Just this night.

And it was his. Her eyes were eternally blue as they stared into his. Her smile was sensual, tempting. He should tease her lips, but he didn't. Instead he kissed her forehead, her cheeks and the lobe of her ear. He whispered against it, telling her just how wonderful she looked in the dress, and just what he intended to do to her and where. He lowered his lips to her shoulder and gloried in the satiny texture of her flesh there. He nuzzled the plunging cleavage of the gown, pressing his lips and tongue against the rise of her breasts.

Then he rose, anxious to rid himself of his constricting clothes. She was suddenly on her knees before him, working on the buttons of his shirt. He wrenched it off and tossed it carelessly to the floor as she kissed the planes of his belly. When her tongue moved into his navel, he drew her against him and his lips found hers at last. Hungrily, they met and meshed and parted, then met again, openmouthed and hungrier.

His fingers wound through her hair, found the hook at the back of the dress and released it. The white sparkling bodice fell forward and her breasts seem to burst from their confines. He buried his head against her, tasting the sweet-smelling flesh there, pressing her closer and closer against him and pushing down the lacy garment to close his mouth around the ripeness of her nipple.

Her head fell back and soft blond hair cascaded over his fingers. The sensual sound of her whimpers nearly drove him to a frenzy. With shaking fingers he tried to take off the bra. But she eluded him, moving away with a subtle smile. In a pool of light she dropped the lacy garment and stepped from the froth of glitter and white.

She stood arrayed in garter and panties and stockings that shimmered seductively down the length of her legs. She remained still for a moment, seeking his eyes, seeking something. Perhaps she discovered all that she really wanted in his eyes, because her kiss-dampened smile deepened and she whispered softly, “I love you, Brent.”