If Looks Could Kill (5 page)

Thank God for Carrie Anne. Her daughter would keep her from foolishly seeking out the company of Kyle Montgomery.

She had barely started the water running before she heard a little voice.

“Mommy, can I come in with you?”

She froze, then pulled the curtain back as the water beat down around her. “Hi, sweetie. What are you doing awake? Did I wake you up? I'm sorry.”

Carrie Anne, large blue eyes wide, solemnly shook her head. She lifted her hands and grimaced. “I woke up. Just like that.” She frowned. “There isn't school, is there? We wouldn't have come down to Grandpa's place if there was school, right?”

“No, there isn't school. Put your shower cap on and come on in.”

Carrie Anne squiggled out of her Barbie nightgown and undies and piled her blond hair into a cap. Madison helped tuck her daughter's curls beneath the elastic rim before bringing Carrie Anne in with her. They both sudsed up and rinsed off, Madison making sure Carrie Anne did her toes and ears, before Carrie Anne asked her, “What are we doing today, Mommy?”

Madison hesitated. She turned off the shower, reached for towels and swung Carrie Anne from the shower to the plush rug at its side.

She took all that time, but then it seemed that she talked before she really thought. “Want to go out on the boat?”

“With Grandpa?” Carrie Anne asked.

Madison shook her head, wrapping a towel around her daughter's. “I don't think Grandpa's coming. He's really into one of his books right now. But an old friend is down…He used to be my stepbrother.”

“How can somebody used to be your brother?” Carrie Anne asked, truly mystified.

Madison opened her mouth to answer, then shrugged. “Well, once his dad and my mom were married. So we were what people call stepbrother and stepsister. But you know that my mommy died—”

“And went to heaven,” Carrie Anne supplied.

“And went to heaven,” Madison agreed softly. “And then my stepbrother and I didn't really see too much of one another anymore. Anyway, his name is Kyle. And you know Kyle's daddy, Roger. You know his brother, Rafe.”

“He's Uncle Rafe's brother?” Carrie Anne asked, pleased. Rafe was always great with the kids. Madison often wondered why Kyle's older brother had never married and had his own kids. Of course, he, like the rest of them, had watched such a multitude of marriages go wrong. Rafe had spent a few years in New York, on Wall Street, and in that little bit of time, he'd made a fortune. Now he was based in Miami, where he played at the stock market and being an entrepreneur.

“Actually, he's Uncle Rafe's half brother,” she said. “But we usually just say brother or sister, because except for Auntie Kaila and me, we were all half sisters and brothers or stepsisters and brothers.” She was confusing her daughter, and she smiled. “Honey, Kyle is related to Uncle Rafe. But he's not really like Uncle Rafe.”

“He's not nice?” Carrie Anne said with a frown.

“No, no, he's just different. You know, the way Aunt Kaila and I are different.”

Carrie Anne shook her head. “You and Auntie Kaila look just alike, Mommy.”

“Right—but we're different.”

“You act different.”

“Yeah.”

“You act happy. Most the time. Auntie Kaila doesn't.”

Madison frowned, looking at her daughter. She acted happy? Life was a thrill a minute. But it was true that Kaila hadn't seemed particularly happy lately. Madison wondered what was so wrong, that a five-year-old could intuitively sense a problem.

“Don't be silly,” she told Carrie Anne. “Auntie Kaila has a beautiful home, a supernice husband and three great, cute little kids just like you. She's happy.”

“I don't think so,” Carrie Anne said, then let it drop. “Let's go on the boat!” she enthused suddenly.

“Okay…then go get your bathing suit on, the new one with the matching cover-up—”

“I will, I will, I know, the sun can be murder,” Carrie Anne said, smiling.

Madison nodded. “I'll get dressed myself and see you in a few minutes.”

“You should wear your new bathing suit, too, Mommy,” Carrie Anne advised. “The one with the matching cover-up.” At five, Carrie Anne already loved clothes. She took good care of her own and liked to advise Madison on hers.

“Okay,” Madison agreed. “Let's get to it, then.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in her new turquoise-and-gold two-piece from Bianca, along with a sleeveless thigh-length cover-up, and ready with a bag filled with snorkels and masks, suntan lotion, and clothing to change into for both her and Carrie Anne when the sun and salt became too brutal to bear anymore. The boat was complete with a shower in the head, so she wouldn't have to suffer the salt. She packed several books, her own CD player and headphones and Carrie Anne's tape recorder and tapes.

Just in case they all ran out of conversation.

Then, hand in hand, she and Carrie Anne walked down the hallway to the outside patio.

She saw her father first. He was definitely a unique man, with something of a Hemingwayesque quality. His thick silver hair fell to his shoulders. He wore a straggly beard and his customary clothing—cutoffs, no shoes, no shirt. He loved the image of being an island bum. She knew that women still found him attractive, that his dark eyes were described in interviews and reviews as “brooding” and “charismatic.” Kyle—in cutoffs, as well—was in the chair next to her father. He was wearing dark glasses, but no baseball cap today. He wore his dark hair cut to a medium length, not too long, but long enough to curl slightly at his nape and leave enough to brush back over his forehead now and then.

He was in very good shape. It was easy to see that now, with his chest bare. Lots of dark hair grew across that broad expanse. His shoulders, too, were broad and bronzed.

Jassy was with them. Madison hadn't known that her older sister was coming. Tiny and blond, but with her father's dark eyes, Jassy was a dynamo. Despite her fragile appearance, she had gone into pathology and now worked for the Dade County medical examiner's office. Jimmy had told Madison about the cops who initially didn't want to take Jassy seriously; one look from her dark eyes and one sure swipe of her scalpel assured them that she was all business.

Madison wouldn't have minded observing the threesome for another few minutes, but it wasn't to be. Carrie Anne slipped her little hand from Madison's and went rushing out to Jordan Adair. “Morning, Grampa!” She sat right on his lap, took his whiskered face between her hands, wrinkled her nose and kissed him on the forehead.

“Hey there, munchkin!” Jordan said, giving her a fierce bear hug in return. “What are you doing up and about so early?”

“I'm going out on the boat,” she said happily, smiling and squinting at her aunt Jassy. “With Rafe's brother, who mommy says is very different, but nice, too. Are you coming, Aunt Jassy?”

“Where's your mother?” Jordan asked Carrie Anne.

“Here, Dad,” Madison said, stepping out onto the patio. A coffeepot and cups sat on the counter by the breeze-through to the kitchen. Madison helped herself to coffee and took the fourth chair at the patio table. Carrie Anne was still on her grandfather's lap, but the three adults were staring expectantly at Madison.

She sipped her coffee. Black. “Good morning.”

“You're coming on the boat?” Kyle said politely. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. If he was pleased, he didn't show that, either.

“You asked us.”

“Yeah, I did.” She couldn't see even a hint of his eyes behind the glasses.

“You can't come, Dad?” she asked her father.

He shook his head. “I'm in the middle of some research.”

“I told you I'd help you later, Dad,” Jassy said sweetly, winking at Madison.

“When I need help from you, you little whelp, I'll let you know,” Jordan grumbled.

Jassy shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Are you Kyle?” Carrie Anne asked, looking straight at him and inspecting him curiously, the way only children can.

“Carrie Anne…” Madison murmured.

“We did forget to introduce them,” Jassy reminded her.

“Yes, I'm Kyle. And you must be Carrie Anne. I've heard very nice things about you. Nice to meet you.” He offered her his hand. She shook it, smiling.

“It's nice to meet you. Mom said that Uncle Rafe was nicer, though.”

“Carrie Anne, I said no such thing—” Madison began, startled and appalled.

“Did she say that? Well, she's wrong,” Kyle told Carrie Anne, grinning. “I'm a lot nicer.” He sat back, and though Madison couldn't see his eyes, she could feel them.

“I said no such thing,” she protested lamely. She looked quickly to her sister. “Are you coming out on the water, Jass?”

“I don't know. Dad's decided to plan a party tonight—”

“What?” Madison said, interrupting her.

“Yeah, I thought a big get-together would be nice,” Jordan said, shrugging. “It's not too often that so many of our family and friends are around. Rafe and Roger can come on down, Jass is already here, Kaila should make it with the kids in a couple of hours, and her husband is supposed to make it back by about seven.” He hesitated for a minute, looking at Madison. “Darryl's been down for a few weeks now, but we haven't had a chance to see him, and—”

“You invited my daddy?” Carrie Anne said, delighted.

“You don't mind?” Jordan said brusquely to Madison.

She didn't mind in the least; she and Darryl got along fine. Probably because deep passion—involving love, spite or jealousy—had never gotten in the way of their divorce, as it did with so many people.

But she felt Kyle watching her, and she flushed. Angry at her own reaction, she said coolly, “It will be fine.”

“Jimmy Gates will come down,” Jordan continued, “and a bunch of locals. Your band, Madison, and Trent and Rafe can both make it. And Roger Montgomery, of course. It will be like a big family reunion.”

Right.

Their big, dysfunctional family.

Minus Lainie.

And the other mothers, too, Madison admitted silently to herself. She knew almost nothing about Rafe's mother, except that she had been sick a long time before she died. Kyle had been just a few years old when his mother was killed in a car accident. Jassy's mom, at least, was alive and well, in Portland, Oregon, studying the effects of carcinogens on sharks. Jassy had definitely inherited her medical inclinations from her mother.

As to Madison's half brother Trent's mother, she'd been a very gentle scientist working to cure the world of the common cold. Her dedication and nobility had apparently appealed to Jordan as a young man, but marriage—and a life in the remote regions of Montana, where she worked—hadn't been for Jordan. Trent's mother had passed away quietly of a heart attack just a few years ago. Madison thought that Trent was the lucky one of her father's offspring. He had his mother's slow, easy nature. He was hard to rile, and not as passionate, pigheaded or angry as she could be herself.

As Lainie had so often been.

Trent loved literature and had spent most of his formative years with his father. He and Jordan had remained close. He, Jassy, Kaila and Madison met for lunch at least once a month, usually with Rafe. It was a firm date.

Kyle was the only member of their strange “sibling” group who was consistently missing.

And now he was here.

The prodigal son returning. And her father was planning a great feast.

Curious. Well, Jimmy would be here. Maybe she could learn a little bit about what was going on.

Jordan turned to his oldest daughter. “There's no reason for you not to go out on the boat, Jassy. You'll be back in plenty of time.” He threw up his hands suddenly, shaking his head and turning to Kyle. “Can't get this one married off. But she makes a great hostess for the old man,” he added affectionately.

Jassy plucked a grape from a bowl of fruit on the table and made a face at her father. “To some of us, the concept of marriage means monogamy—and those vows, you know? ‘Till death do us part'? Some of us take those things seriously.”

“Every good woman needs a man, Jassy,” her father told her sadly.

“Maybe, Dad, she's holding out for a good one,” Madison said sweetly.

Jordan sniffed.

“Then again,” Madison added, sipping her coffee thoughtfully, “maybe she's found her good man but has the good sense to keep him away from us!”

Jordan wagged a finger at Jassy. “There'll be no running off without my knowledge, young lady,” he told her.

“God forbid!” Jassy said dryly. “I'm
only
thirty-one.”

“That's not young, Auntie Jassy,” Carrie Anne said gravely.