Scarlet Nights (21 page)

“Who’s he?” Mike asked. He was looking at a photo of two pretty young women with their equally cute kids. It was his guess they were Sara’s older sisters.

“First serious boyfriend.” She didn’t say that she’d been so sure they were going to marry that six months after they met, she’d turned down an excellent job as a conservator at a Boston museum. Her life with Brian would have taken her in a different direction, and that’s what she’d wanted so very much.

When Mike looked at Sara in question, she shrugged. “Dumped me. Boo hoo. Feel sorry for Sara.”

He knew she meant it as a joke, but he could feel the hurt in her voice. “Stupidest man I ever heard of,” he said and was pleased to see her smile. “So what does the fiancé think of all this?” He motioned about the room.

Sara laughed. “That it would make a good bonfire. He likes chrome and glass.”

Mike turned away so she wouldn’t see his frown. If Vandlo had been so honest about his likes and dislikes, and Sara’s were so different, why the hell was she marrying him? He sat down in the big leather chair. “I like what you have here. No chrome, and I hate glass-topped tables. They break during fights and can cut a man. I once saw a severed artery that—” He broke off with a shrug.

Sara remained standing and staring down at him.

“Did I grow horns?” he asked.

“You look at home in that chair. You look like some World War I pilot. I can almost see you in a bomber’s jacket.”

“You mean one of those guys who died before he was twenty-three? Fought the Red Baron and went down in flames?”

“Yes, that’s just what I mean.” She sat down on the edge of her couch and kept looking at him. “Greg—”

“What about him?” Mike tried not to sound keenly interested.

“Nothing. You look good in this room. Most men are awkward in here, but you look like you’ve read a book and been places and done things in your life.”

“Sara,” he said softly, but she got up before he could say more.

“I’ll get the jewelry.” She hurried down the little hall to her bedroom.

Mike wandered around the rest of the apartment. The kitchen needed remodeling, and there was a big hole where the sink had been. He couldn’t help smiling at the way Luke had disabled the whole place.

“Was there
anything
Anders liked?” he called to Sara. “So much as a chair or even a photo?” His voice lowered when she came back into the living room.

“Not really.” She handed Mike a small wooden box.

Opening it, he saw six pieces of jewelry. They were old-fashioned, and he didn’t doubt that the stones were real, but even if
they were, none was big enough to be worth much. Certainly not enough to tempt a Vandlo. He closed the box. “I don’t think …”

“I know. The good stuff went to her daughters-in-law. Ram’s mother has some big clunkers that she never wears. I got the pretty things.”

“Sara, you could wear jewelry made of iron and make it look good.”

“I …” she began, and he could see the blush coming into her cheeks. But then her eyes went to the wall behind him. “The CAY painting.”

“What?”

She stepped around him and went to the far wall. “One time Greg said that the only thing of mine he actually liked was this painting. He wanted me to give it to him.” She removed from the wall a frame, about ten by twelve, and handed it to him.

For a moment his heart raced, but when he saw the picture he was disappointed. It looked like a child’s drawing of a pond with ducks on it—except that the sky was green, the pond pink, and the poor ducks were purple.

The watercolor looked old, but he couldn’t see it as being valuable. Maybe Vandlo wanted it for his future grandchildren. According to his family’s tradition, his teenage daughter would soon be married off to some old man.

Mike looked in the corner of the painting at the three initials:
CAY
. “One of your ancestors?”

“I don’t know. Aunt Lissie didn’t know who he was. She said the picture had been in the McDowell family forever, but she and I were the only ones who liked it. We figured it was Victorian.”

“No chance it’s a Beatrix Potter, is there?”

“I wish. No, it’s a castoff, like everything else in here. Even me,” she added as she turned away.

Frowning, Mike put the picture back on the wall, and when he looked at Sara there was a slump in her shoulders that he didn’t like. It seemed that she’d been tossed aside by her first boyfriend, and he knew that it was going to be exposed that the second one only wanted her for what he could get.

Mike didn’t think about what he did, he just reached out, took her arm, and pulled her to him. He put his lips on hers and kissed her with all the longing he’d felt since the first moment he saw her.

He half expected her to pull away, but instead, her arms went around his neck and she tilted her head. Her lips were sweet, and her body against his fit more perfectly than any other woman’s ever had.

It was all Mike could do to keep from making the kiss deeper, and from leading to much more.

He was the one to break away. He held her, his lips on her neck. “Sara,” he whispered. “I want—”

She pushed him away. “I know. I’m part of your job. And you want—” Breaking off, she hurried to the door. “Meet me at Joce’s in an hour. I need time to think about all this.”

In the next second she left the apartment and Mike sat down heavily on the leather chair. His assignment had been to do whatever was necessary to get Sara away from Vandlo.

“Hell!” Mike mumbled. “I’m being lured into this town with the bait of an old farm, comfortable furniture, and the prettiest, sweetest little temptress who ever walked the earth.” He ran his hand over his face. “If anyone is being seduced, it’s
me
.”

14

J
OCE WAS IN
her bed, surrounded by genealogy charts; a printer was on the bedside table. “Want to know who your third cousin six times removed is?”

“Not especially,” Sara said. “I have enough cousins here and now.”

Joce looked at her friend—and seventh cousin, she’d just found out—and said, “What’s wrong?”

“Mike kissed me.”

“Oh. Well. I know that’s terrible, since you’re engaged to another man, but before the lamentations begin, what was the kiss like?”

“Great. But then he’s had a lot of experience.”

Joce wasn’t going to comment on the last remark. “So how does he compare to Greg?”

Sara sat down heavily on the chair by the bed. “Did you ever know for absolutely
sure
that what you were doing was right, then something happened that made you doubt everything you knew?”

“If you’re referring to men, yes. In college I had a boyfriend I adored. I was sure he was The One. Then I went home—meaning to Miss Edi—and spent a week with her. One morning, we were sitting at breakfast and I imagined what it would be like if he were there. Instantly, I knew I’d spend every moment dealing with his jealousy. If you’d asked me the day before if he was a jealous man, I would have said no. But he was. He was jealous of my job, of my girlfriends, even of my awful stepsisters. Is that what you mean?”

“Pretty much. I’m beginning to see and remember things that a week ago I wasn’t aware of.” Sara sighed. “When Greg and I were first together it was so wonderful I would have walked through fire for him.”

“And from what Tess and I heard through the walls, you did a few times.”

Sara nodded. “Everything was great. It hadn’t been long since Brian left me and …”

Joce had never met Sara’s other boyfriend, but she’d heard about him. He was a young archaeologist from England, and he and Sara had been inseparable for over four years. Everyone, including Sara, thought they were going to get married. When he told her he was going to marry his childhood girlfriend, Sara had been devastated.

“The worst thing,” Tess told Joce, “was that everyone in town treated Sara like she was on the point of insanity.”

“Was she?” Joce asked, for she knew some about being close to breaking.

“Yeah,” Tess said. “She was.”

So now, Joce reached out to take Sara’s hand. “Greg made you feel desirable, that someone
wanted
you.”

“Yes, and that the town disliked him made me feel like I was fighting against … I don’t know. Maybe I felt like Shakespeare’s
Juliet and I was struggling to retain True Love. Now I think maybe I just wanted to show people … I don’t know what.”

“I know about rebellion,” Joce said seriously. “In that backwoods family of mine I caused a lot of anger because I absolutely refused to get a tattoo.”

Sara laughed. “Not even one?”

“Not even a butterfly on my left ankle.”

“You
are
a rebel.”

Joce waited a moment before she spoke. “So what about the wedding?”

Sara put her hands over her face. “I don’t know. I mean, I really and truly don’t know!” She looked back at Joce. “Just days after I met Greg, we were in business together and traveling and—”

“Working.”

“Oh, yes,” Sara said. “Masses of work. Great mountain loads of things that I had to do that kept me busy seven days a week.”

“And sex.”

“At first, yes. I so very much wanted to prove that I was at least as desirable as Brian’s … as the woman he wanted to marry, that I was insatiable.”

“What about now?”

“Now I’m remembering Greg the man. He’s not easy to live with, and he’s impossible to please. But I didn’t have time to think about anything after I met him. We went from a blind date to marriage plans in what seems like minutes.”

“So where does Mike fit into all this?”

“Nowhere. Mike has nothing to do with anything.”

“Oh,” Joce said.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just thought that you and he were—”

“Friends. That’s all we are to each other.” When Joce said
nothing, Sara gave in. “Okay, so maybe Mike has reminded me what it’s like to enjoy a man’s company. He and I do things together.”

“Like what?”

“Swing through trees.” Sara lifted her hand. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure? That I liked the things Luke and I did together made me choose him over Ramsey.”

“Joce, get real. You had the hots for Luke from the day he dumped mustard down the front of you. Ramsey never had a chance. Besides, he was in love with Tess but was too dumb to know it.”

“You’re right,” Joce said. “I know it’s a cliché, but I think you should follow your heart.”

“If I did that, then I’d marry Merlin’s Farm. It’s what I
really
love.”

Joce laughed so hard the babies started kicking.

15

M
IKE WAS DRESSED
for the gym, it was still dark outside, and there was no light from under Sara’s bedroom door. The night before, as soon as Mike had pulled up in his car, Luke had stepped outside to speak to him in private.

Quietly, Luke had asked how the case was going and if he needed any help.

Mike felt his usual sense of caution, but with each day that was fading. “I can’t find what Sara has that the Vandlo family wants.”

Luke showed his shock at Mike’s word of “family.” “There are more people here than just Mitzi?” When Mike just looked at him, Luke drew in his breath. “It’s Greg, isn’t it? How is he involved?”

“He’s Mitzi’s son.”

Luke gave a low whistle. “Does Sara know?”

“No. I want her to trust me more before I tell her.”

“From what I’ve seen, she couldn’t trust you more than she does now.”

“Yeah?” Mike couldn’t stop his grin.

Luke arched an eyebrow at him. “You are aware, aren’t you, that if you hurt our Sara we’ll murder you?”

“And what happens if
my
heart is broken?” Mike asked.

“I have a staple gun in the truck.”

Mike laughed. “At least tell me it’s a
big
staple gun.”

“A pocket-size mini.”

As they got to the door they were laughing, and an adolescent young man came out. He was as tall as Luke, but outweighed him by about a hundred pounds—and all of it looked to be muscle.

The boy didn’t say anything, but when he saw Mike, he stopped and stared. He took Mike’s chin in his hand, turned his face to the side, and ran his finger down Mike’s nose. It had been broken several times but rarely repaired. As a result, he had a slight hook at the top of it that he’d been told looked like an axe blade.

The young man said nothing, just removed his hand, and kept walking. Waiting by the big pillars into Edilean Manor was a sleek little Mercedes convertible. Sitting at the wheel was a slim, extraordinarily pretty young woman with an abundance of dark red hair. She waved at Luke, stared at Mike, and waited while the boy got into the passenger seat, then spun away in a flurry of gravel.

“Who the hell—?” Mike began.

“Fraziers.” Luke went into the house.

“The big kid …?”

“Shamus. He’s drawing the gypsy cards.”

“Why was he looking at
me
?”

“He likes faces, but who knows what a Frazier is thinking?”

“The girl’s a looker.”

“That’s Ariel, and she’s a terror. She has the Frazier temper.”

“I guess I’m better off with Sara,” Mike said.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Does everyone in this town work at matchmaking?”

“Not Mr. Lang,” Luke said instantly.

As Mike laughed, they heard the voices of the women and went into the drawing room, where Joce and Sara were.

As before, the evening was very pleasant. Mike could almost forget the case as they talked about food and Luke’s trip to the gym that morning.

“Forty-six minutes of hell,” Luke was saying. “Who would have thought you could do so much damage in so short a time?” He put a hand on his shoulder. “My delts will be sore tomorrow.”

“You have strong lats. I’m going to have to work to keep up with you.”

“Right,” Luke said in sarcasm. “This from a man who cools down on a trampoline.” He looked at the two women. “You should see what this guy does in the gym. I swear half the people there stopped their own workouts just to watch him.”

From there they went to talking about Merlin’s Farm. As Sara spoke of seeing the inside of the old house, Mike marveled at the rapture in her voice. He’d never thought about loving an inanimate object as she seemed to care for that place. But then, he thought Sara would probably say he loved his car that much. She’d already teased him for keeping it so clean, but he saw nothing wrong with daily washing and vacuuming, and people really shouldn’t eat inside a car. And what was wrong with keeping the tires oiled?