Perfect Family (44 page)

He hesitated, then continued slowly, “It took me a long time to realize Sarah had been a victim, too. My father broke Sarah's heart and she still took me in. I couldn't understand that. I always thought I would be booted out, and I was going to get myself booted out before someone did it to me. I finally learned there's no good excuse for bad behavior.”

“She told me you fell in love with the horses.”

“Yes,” he said simply. She knew from his face that there was a lot more to it than that.

But it was enough that he had told her that much. It took trust, she knew. The same kind of trust she had given him in telling him about the rape.

He apparently thought it was enough. He rose. “Time to go.”

She nodded. He had already paid the bill, and the servers were placing chairs up on tables and eyeing them hopefully.

He waited for her, and she caught his hand with her fingers. Her hands tingled with the contact, and she looked up at him just as he looked down. The heat was explosive, the attraction irresistible.

The lingering pain in her ribs seemed to fade. Too many other reactions were rocking her body.

Outside, he took the keys from her. She sat close to him as he drove, her gaze seldom leaving him. Under the streetlights, she could see his face, sharply chiseled from a side angle. His long body looked uncomfortable in her driver's seat, but he handled the wheel with complete confidence. Unlike Jessie, who would laughingly tell friends she'd get lost in her own driveway, he apparently remembered every complicated twist and turn to her house.

She'd been too shaken last night to worry about her proximity to him. She should be exhausted now, but she was alert, every sense aware and wanting. She swallowed hard, feeling the breath catch in her throat. She wanted him in more ways than she could assimilate at the moment.

He was quiet on the way back to her house. Yet she sensed his own tension. They had pulled down barriers tonight, had relaxed, and yet … he was still holding something back, and she didn't know whether it was part of himself or part of the puzzle that continued to elude her. She wasn't sure which she preferred, or would dislike the least.

When they reached the cottage, she hopped out and opened the gate. She regarded the house carefully, which she'd done since the day she encountered the burglar. She wondered whether she would ever look at it the same again, and she felt a rising anger about that undeniable fact.

And with that, she realized that she
did
feel safe with Ross, safer in fact than she'd ever felt in her life.
Please God, don't let it be a mistake
.

He followed her into the house, and she thought how strange it was not to have Ben barking joyously. She would call in the morning to make sure he was all right. Before they looked at the book. No, that would be too early.

She turned on the lights while Ross checked every room before coming back. He leaned over and kissed her, his arms resting easily on her shoulders. Then his mouth moved to her ear. “I've been wanting to do that all evening.”

The sensation of light breath in her ear scrambled what senses she had left. Her arms went around his neck and she licked his right ear, finding it irresistibly salty. Then, simultaneously, their lips moved, met and courted. Asking. Answering. Agreeing.

She led him to her bedroom and in seconds they'd stripped each other. Their bodies melded together. He was extraordinarily gentle, careful of every touch, watching her face to make sure he didn't unintentionally hurt her. His fingers soothed over the bruise on her chest. “I should go,” he whispered. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“No.” She held her own hand and drew him down on the bed, her hands touching, caressing the skin drawn tightly over muscle and bone. She felt him shudder, and her own skin was alive with feeling, the core of her a mass of writhing nerve ends.

“I didn't ask to stay with you for this reason,” he said harshly.

“I know,” she replied, leaning over and running her tongue over his chest.

A low rumble came from deep in his throat, but the sound died as he kissed her. She felt as though she were whirling through the universe. Then he guided her down and he lowered himself, teasing her first with his body until she was almost mad with wanting him. When she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, he entered, deep and throbbing. But there was a gentleness about it, too, a caring that made her melt inside. He moved inside her like a dance of love, each stroke designed to prolong pleasure, to inflame new sensations and feelings until she burst with white-hot splendor …

twenty-six

They met Sol and his friend, Ames Fuller, at the bank when it opened at ten. Sol had arranged for Rob, their Emory student who worked part-time, to tend the bookstore.

After the introductions, Sol and Ross eyed each other a little warily.

“Jessie's told me a little about you,” Sol told Ross. Then he looked at her face, which she felt growing hot. “But probably,” he added, “not enough.”

Ross held his hand out. “She told me you were like a father to her.”

“Ouch,” Sol winced. “I like a young uncle instead. I hope you'll come over and see the store after this. We're proud of it.”

“I would like that,” Ross said.

“When are you leaving?” Jessie heard just a touch of proprietorship in Sol's voice.

“I don't know. I suppose it depends on what your friend finds.”

“I don't think he'll find anything. I've looked at the book before.”

Ross shrugged, his eyes enigmatic. She wondered what he really thought about the book. She wondered what he really thought about her. She'd felt so warm and wonderful last night and again in the morning when she woke up next to him. But then he was silent this morning, detached again, and she couldn't help but wonder whether it had anything to do with the book and what it might reveal. Why would that bother him?

She cleared her head of the thoughts. She was imagining things.

“This is very unusual,” Ames Fuller said. “I don't know if I can determine anything without examining it in laboratory conditions.”

“I don't want to know about its authenticity,” Jessie said. “But perhaps you can find something unusual about it. Markings. Some kind of code. My uncle indicated that he may have left a message in it.”

“A message from the grave?” Ames said, his interest obviously piqued.

“Something like that,” she said.

She went to a bank official and told him they needed to use the little anteroom off the safe-deposit boxes. Then she retrieved the book from the box, turning it over in her hands. The binding was intact, although the cover was faded. She held it for a moment before turning to the inside cover.

A childishly scrawled name was barely legible. She'd not paid attention to it before, because she'd known the book must have passed through many generations. But now she stared at it, trying to decipher the signature. Clayton? Clements? Definitely Clements now that she knew what to look for. She thumbed through the rest of the book. No other obvious marks.

“Daddy,” she whispered. “Why did you want me to keep this?” There had to be a reason. Her father had not been sentimental. He'd apparently cut every tie to his family. So why this?

She closed the door to the box, then gingerly carried the book to the anteroom.

Sol and Ames Fuller were seated. Ross, on the other hand, was leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like an unhappily caged mountain lion. Lithe strength. Restless energy. He ran his fingers through his hair as his gaze rested on the book in her hand, then up to her face. “The legendary book,” he said softly. “I really didn't think it still existed.”

“Oh, it exists,” Sol said wryly. “The question is whether it's more than a primer.”

Jessie handed it to Ames, watching as his hands touched it reverently. It was quite obvious he loved old books. Then she looked over at Ross. She thought she saw apprehension flit through his eyes, and she suddenly wondered if she
was
opening Pandora's box, that perhaps there were secrets meant to remain exactly that. She shook off a sudden chill. How could truth hurt?

Ames studied the signature, then ran his fingers along the binding. Then he started to leaf through the pages carefully.

Jessie had the worst craving to chew on her fingers, to do something. Sol glanced over at her, understanding in his eyes. Then they narrowed as they moved toward Ross. He obviously hadn't decided whether Ross was friend or foe. Or perhaps he worried that she would leave Atlanta. And the bookstore.

Each page was studied. Jessie looked down at her watch. An hour.

Still, Ross stood. She sensed that he wanted to pace but feared that doing so might ruin Ames Fuller's concentration.

Then Ames reached the back of the book, and his fingers ran up and down the inside back cover. She noticed that the inside back cover was backed by darker paper than the inside front. But it looked natural to her. It was certainly faded.

But his hands hovered there, feeling it, fingers running over it. “This isn't original paper,” he said. “It's meant to look like it, but the texture is different.” He closed his eyes, his fingers going over it again. “I think there's something under it. Most people wouldn't feel it because the back is slightly cracked.”

She glanced back at Ross. He was staring at the book as if it were a rattlesnake. Her heart suddenly lurched. He was worried about something. That was obvious.

But she had to know what had been secreted in the book. “Can you look behind it?” she asked.

“I'd prefer not to do it here,” Ames said. “We could devalue the book or even destroy whatever might be there. I want to work on it at my studio.”

Jessie didn't care about the value of the book, but she did care about whatever secrets it might hold. She wanted an end to the mystery, to the danger, to the uncertainty. “Can we go with you?”

He looked at his watch. “I have another appointment. I won't be able to get to it until later this afternoon.”

Sol looked at her. “Why don't we let him take the book and then meet him at his studio at four this afternoon?” He looked at Ames. “Will that give you time to work on it?”

The man nodded.

Jessie wasn't sure whether she wanted to let the book out of her sight, but Sol trusted Ames completely. And no one knew he was involved with them. In fact, it would probably be safer with him than with her. Reluctantly, she agreed.

Ames carefully put the book in his briefcase and locked it.

“I don't think you should walk out with us,” Sol said. “We'll go first.”

“Does someone want this book?” Ames asked.

“We don't know for sure, but it's best not to take chances.”

Ames looked more interested than frightened. “I'll go out the side entrance several minutes after you do.”

Jessie, Ross, and Sol walked outside.

“I told Ross I would introduce him to the world's best pizza. Would you like to come?”

Sol's eyes clouded. “No, I don't think so. I need to get back.”

“Sol,” she said softly. “I know I've really been gone a lot. I'm sorry. As soon as we know about the book …”

“No,” he said. “If anyone deserved to take some time, you do. You've held down the fort for years while I've been roaming. Take as much time as you like.” He hesitated. “But I do want you back.”

Jessie looked at Ross. Remembered how she'd felt last night in his arms. But he'd said nothing about the future. He'd said nothing about love. And today he'd been almost a stranger. He'd retreated back into his private cave.

“I'll be back,” she said. “Next week for sure.”

Sol looked at Ross for a moment, then back to her, and she sensed he wanted to say something. But, instead, he turned away toward the other end of the parking lot.

His attitude puzzled her. Sol had always urged her to have a social life, had even tried his hand at matchmaking. Yet it was obvious he had reservations about Ross.

She got into the driver's seat of her car, Ross in the passenger side, and she drove out of the lot onto the main road. A car pulled out behind them. Don't get paranoid, she told herself.

Yet, she reminded herself, she had every reason to be paranoid.

She looked in the rearview mirror as she drove toward the strip shopping center where her shop shared space with the pizza restaurant. Just as she was beginning to relax, she noted a dark sedan that looked familiar. She made another twist, going somewhere few other drivers would follow, through a grocery store parking lot, then continuing through a residential neighborhood. No dark sedan. But when she looked several moments later, it was there again.

She only hoped that Ames didn't have a tail, too.

Tail
. She was beginning to feel like a character in a book, and not one as benign as
Alice in Wonderland
. She wondered whether someone had followed them last night as well. She felt a shudder roll through her body.

“Someone
is
following us,” she said.

He swore under his breath. “Then whoever tried to run you down probably has hired someone here.”

She remembered that first burglary, the man in the ski mask. The terror. The violation of her sanctuary. She nodded. “But who?”

He didn't answer. She made another turn and ended up in a driveway that wound to the back of her store. “The pizza place is next door. It's loud … a student hangout, but the food is good.”

He didn't get out right away. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said. It was her usual answer to the question. But then she realized she wasn't fine at all. She was angry. Very, very angry. “No,” she corrected. “I'm not fine. I'm mad as hell.”

He gave her a long stare. “Good,” he said. “Now maybe you'll be careful.”