Night Whispers (24 page)

Noah looked at her soft, provocative mouth and lifted his gaze to her face. Beneath a heavy fringe of russet lashes, her shining eyes were an amazing lavender blue, mesmerizing in their lack of guile, and her smooth cheekbones were flushed a becoming pink. Strands of hair had escaped from her french braid, and they glistened like spun gold at her temples. Plucky, unpretentious, and unaffected, she sparkled from within and glowed on the surface. She was, he decided, the most wholesomely beautiful female he'd ever seen. She was also becoming embarrassed by his scrutiny, her laughter fading from her trembling lips, her long lashes flickering down to hide her eyes.

"On second thought," Douglas joked as he correctly interpreted Noah's thoughts, "don't bother with a bracelet, Sloan. You can go straight for a diamond necklace."

Time passed very quickly after that. By the time the breakfast plates were being cleared away, Sloan felt almost as if she were a family friend, and much of that was due to Courtney. With democratic impartiality, the outspoken teenager had switched her attention from Sloan and aimed a series of equally impertinent, and frequently hilarious, comments at her father and then her brother. No one was spared, and by the end of the meal, her three victims had bonded with each other in shared helplessness, sympathy, and laughter.

In that short time, Sloan learned an amazing amount about both men from Courtney, including the fact that Noah had been married for three years to someone named Jordanna, who had supposedly soured him on marriage, and that two of Douglas's wives had been Sloan's age.

Courtney gave her father absolutely no quarter, and he let her get away with it, but Noah had limits, Sloan noticed, and those limits evidently involved his work. He ignored Courtney's numerous gibes about his personal life and even some of the women he'd been involved with, but when she started to make a remark about his "business associates," Noah's jaw tightened and his voice turned ominous. "I wouldn't go there, if I were you," he warned her.

To Sloan's surprise, the irrepressible fifteen-year-old stopped in midsentence and did not "go there."

Claudine arrived with a coffeepot and started to refill Sloan's cup, but Sloan looked at her watch and shook her head. "Those were the most delicious pancakes I've ever had," she told the cook, and Claudine beamed at her. "I have to go," she said to the others. "Everyone will be looking for me."

"Wait," Courtney said, trying to forestall her departure. "Why did you learn martial arts?"

"To make up for my lack of height," Sloan said lightly as she shoved her chair back and stood up; then she smiled down at her youthful hostess and said, "Thank you for the most memorable meal I've ever had. And thank you for making me feel like a member of your family."

It registered on Sloan that Courtney actually seemed at a loss for words for the first time since she'd set eyes on Sloan, but she was distracted by Noah who stood up and said, "I'll walk you home."

In silence, Courtney and Douglas studied the pair as they strolled side by side across the lawn.

Propping her bare feet on Noah's chair, Courtney crossed them at the ankles and wriggled her toes, studying the brownish red lacquer she'd applied to her toenails. "Well?" she said finally. "What do you think of Sloan now?"

"I think she's lovely and utterly delightful," Douglas replied. "I also think," he added mildly as he stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee, "that you went beyond reasonable bounds with some of your comments. In the past, you've always exercised a modicum of restraint in front of strangers, but this morning, you didn't."

"I know," Courtney cheerfully agreed. "I was
great
! Noah should double my allowance for what I accomplished today."

"What do you think you accomplished?"

"It's—like—so obvious! I made Sloan relax. She was uptight at first, and who could blame her? I mean, she doesn't know anyone in Palm Beach; she doesn't even know her own family. She's lived in a small town her entire life, she doesn't know how to flirt, and you can bet she's never had any money."

"I'm certain Carter provided very well for her mother and her."

"Well, if you'd have been listening to the way she answered my questions, instead of staring at her big, beautiful—"

"Courtney!"

"—eyes. I was going to say 'eyes,' " she said truthfully. "Anyway, if you'd have been listening instead of staring, you'd have found out that her mother works as a clerk in a boutique and Sloan went to a local college and worked part-time. Are you following me so far? Can you see where I'm going with all this?"

"Not yet, but I'm trotting along in your wake, trying to keep up."

Courtney rolled her eyes at his obtuseness. "Considering all the stuff she revealed about herself, can you imagine how overwhelmed she must be by Noah? I mean, besides the fact that he's tall, dark, gorgeous, and sexy, he is also rich and sophisticated. I went to a lot of trouble to make him seem more normal and approachable to her."

"Ah, I see," Douglas said dryly. "I suppose that explains why you found it necessary to refer to his ex-wife as The Wicked Witch from the West' and to imply that his mistress has buckteeth?"

"I never referred to Nicole as his mistress!" Courtney protested indignantly. "The word 'mistress' has an elitist sound to it that might have scared Sloan off. I referred to her as 'Nicole.' "

She leaned forward to inspect a possible chip in her pedicure and sighed dramatically. "Poor Sloan. Noah is going to turn on the charm. He'll take her out on one of the yachts, lavish her with attention, dazzle her with a trinket, and he'll lure her into bed. She'll fall for him, just like women always do;
then
she'll find out he's as hard as nails and the only thing he really cares about is making money. He'll get too involved in 'business' to bother with her; she'll sulk; he'll get bored; then he'll dump her and break her heart. You know," she concluded cheerfully, "if I weren't his loyal, devoted sister, I'd warn Sloan that he's really a complete bastard!"

The shy self-consciousness that Sloan thought she'd overcome at breakfast began to return as he walked beside her, but Noah eased it by asking her if she liked to go sailing and then telling her about the time Douglas and Courtney nearly capsized in a storm off the coast of Nassau.

Two houses away from her father's house, a group of youngsters were building a sand castle. The youngest, a chubby little toddler of about a year and a half was still unsteady on his feet and trying valiantly to keep up with two older boys as he ran to the surf with his pail. He careened past Sloan on his return trip, tripped, and fell, his water spilling on the sand.

"Need some help?" Sloan asked, crouching down to his level. Still clutching the handle of his pail in his fist, he rolled onto his rump, looked at her, and burst into wails of dismay. Sloan swept him up—baby, pail, and sand—and hugged him to her, laughing. "Don't cry, little one," she soothed, patting his back while the nanny, whom Sloan had spoken to earlier that morning, started forward and then stopped. "Don't cry. We'll help you."

He quieted, rubbed a sandy fist in his eyes, and hiccupped. Sloan put him down and took his free hand in hers. "We'll help you," she promised again, and looked at Noah. "We will, won't we?" she said.

Noah looked down into those beseeching pansy-blue eyes of hers and then at the baby's hopeful brown ones. Silently, he reached for the pail. Sloan smiled at him. The baby smiled at him. His brain captured the moment like a snapshot.

He wanted her.

«
^
»

"C
hildren are so much fun to be around," Sloan said a few minutes later as they walked away from the sand castle that was still under construction, with ample water now.

"You are fun to be around," he corrected her with a shrug that struck Sloan as significant.

"Thank you. Don't you like children?"

"You're welcome, and no I don't."

"Really?" The informality of their breakfast conversation caused Sloan to ask him a question that made her feel ill-mannered as soon as she asked it. "Is that why you've never had any children?"

"I was already twenty-five when Courtney was born, and she's cured me of any illusions I might have had about wanting a child or about a child wanting me for a parent."

"I didn't mean to pry," Sloan said sincerely. "I shouldn't have asked that."

"You may ask me anything you'd like, and I will be as honest and direct as I can. I'd prefer it that way."

Since breakfast, Sloan had been mentally preparing to give flirting her best shot, but now he was asking for honesty and straightforwardness, and that was as alarming as it was impossible. "Okay," she said lamely.

"That was your opportunity to assure me that I can ask
you
anything, and that you will also be honest and direct."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Sloan said warily, and he gave a shout of laughter.

"Let's try it out, shall we?" He put a detaining hand on her arm and stopped her behind the hedge that concealed her father's fence at the beach.

"You mean, right now?"

"Right now." With startling directness, he said, "I'd like to spend time with you while you're here. Starting with tonight."

"I can't," Sloan replied, sounding absurdly panicked to her own ears.

"Why not?"

"There are three very important reasons," she said, getting control of her voice. "They are Paris, Paul, and Carter."

"Paris told me last night that you're not romantically involved with Paul. I am not romantically involved with Paris, and since none of us are romantically involved with Carter, I don't see this as an obstacle."

"I meant that I need to spend time with them."

"We can work that out. Is there anything else in the way of our getting to know each other?"

"Like what?" Sloan asked evasively, but he saw through her ploy in an instant.

"Let's not play games with each other. I've already played them all, and you wouldn't enjoy them even if you knew how to play them."

Stalling for time, Sloan looked at the small seashell she'd picked up on the beach and pretended to examine it. He waited in silence until she had no choice except to meet his gaze; then he said, "One of the things I like about you is that you are refreshingly open and honest. However, there is something that bothers you when you're alone with me. What is it?"

Sloan wondered how honest and refreshing he'd think she was if she told him the truth.
What bothers me when I'm alone with you is that I'm not an interior designer, I'm a cop working under cover, and I'm not here to reunite with my father. I'm here to spy on him. Paul isn't my friend; he's an FBI agent who is here for the same reason. Oh, and by the way, he'd also like me to find out what I can about you
. She wasn't innocent and honest; in fact, she was probably the most deceitful person he'd ever met. She was also so attracted to him that her stomach knotted just thinking about how he'd react when he found out the truth.

"Are you attracted to me?" he asked bluntly.

Sloan had the distinct feeling he already knew the answer. "You know what," she said shakily, "let's not be too honest."

He was still laughing when he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "There, that's out of the way. The first one is the hardest. Things will be easier now."

Sloan stared at him, her mind reeling with disbelief and longing and dread.

Sloan half expected Noah to leave her at the back door, but he followed her inside. She could hear Paul's voice followed by a burst of laughter that seemed strangely discordant in this house of stultifying dignity and dark wood. "It sounds like they're all in the dining room," she remarked to Noah as she followed the sounds down the hall.

The family had finished breakfast, and Paris was looking at an open photo album with Paul leaning over her shoulder. "That tennis racquet was almost as big as you were," he remarked with a chuckle.

"She was three years old there," Edith put in. "That's the same age I was when I started my lessons."

They looked up as Noah and Sloan walked in, and Carter's smile froze. "Have you two been together all morning?"

"My father and Courtney waylaid Sloan on the beach and forced her to have breakfast with us," Noah said smoothly.

Carter relaxed, his good humor restored. "Better watch out for Douglas, Sloan. He's quite a ladies' man."

Edith was never completely good-humored, Sloan noted as the old woman gave Noah a dark look. "You ought to put a muzzle on that child, Noah. Her manners are atrocious."

"She's lonely and bored," Sloan contradicted gentry. "She's extremely bright, she doesn't know anyone here, and she's surrounded by adults. Her only diversion is to shock and annoy. Children do that." In apology for having openly disagreed with her, Sloan patted Edith's shoulder and said, "Good morning, Great-grandmother."

The old lady's scowl relaxed into its habitual but less daunting frown. "Good morning," she replied stiffly.