Honest Illusions

by Nora Roberts

  He knew her too well. “Yes or no, Rox. Now. It would take you months to gather the information I already have. By the time you did, I’d have the stone.”

  “Then why do you need me?”

  “We’ll get to that. Yes or no.”

  She stared at him, at the face she’d known so well. There had been a time when she would have known what he was thinking, and certainly what he was feeling. But the years had made a stranger of him.

  That was for the best, she decided. If he remained a stranger she could cope.

  “Yes.”

  The wave of relief was like a flood of fresh air. He could breathe again. His only outward reaction was a slight smile and nod. “Good. There are certain conditions.”

  Her eyes frosted. “Of course there are.”

  “I think you can live with them. There’s an auction to be held this fall in Washington.”

  “The Clideburg estate, I know.”

  “You should also know that the jewelry alone is valued in excess of six million.”

  “Six point eight, conservatively.”

  “Conservatively,” he agreed and downed the last of his champagne. “I want to hit it.”

  For an instant she couldn’t speak at all. “You’re out of your mind.” But the excitement in her eyes betrayed her. “You might as well stroll into the Smithsonian and try to cop the Hope Diamond.”

  “Bad luck.” Oh yes, he knew he had her. Rising, he reached for the bottle to pour them both more wine. “I’ve done quite a bit of the initial research. There are a few bugs to iron out.”

  “Atomic-sized, I imagine.”

  “A job is a job,” he said, quoting Max. “The bigger the complications, the grander the illusion.”

  “The auction’s in October. That doesn’t give us much time.”

  “Time enough. Particularly if you announce at your press conference tomorrow that you’ll be working with a partner again.”

  “Why in hell would I do that?”

  “Because we will, Roxy, onstage and off.” He took her hand and, ignoring her resistance, drew her to her feet. “Strictly business, babe. I’m a mystery come back. Put that together with the act we’ll create, and we’ll be a sensation. And have a tidy diversion in October—in our performance at the gala before the auction.”

  “You got us booked already?”

  He didn’t mind the sarcasm, not when he played to win. “You leave that to me. It’s all a hook, Rox, the performance, the auction, the stone. When it’s all over, we’ll both have what we want.”

  “I know what I want.” He still held her hand. She would have sworn she felt the power leaping from his fingers. It was a sensation that both frightened and aroused. “I’m not sure about you.”

  “You should be.” His eyes locked on hers. “You always were. I want you back, Roxanne.” He brought her rigid fingers to his lips. “And I’ve had a long time to figure out how to get the things I want. If you’re afraid of that, back out now.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.” She yanked her hand free of his, tossed up her chin. “I’m in, Callahan. When the job’s done, I’ll snap my fingers.” She did so, in front of his nose. “And you’ll be gone. That’s what I want.”

  He only laughed and, taking her by the shoulders, yanked her to him for one short, hard kiss. “God, it’s good to be back. Knock them dead at the press conference, Roxy. Tell them you’re working on something new. Whet their appetites. Afterward, I’ll come to your suite. We can start working out the details.”

  “No.” She pressed both hands on his chest to shove him away. “I’ll handle the press, then I’ll come to you. Make sure you have enough to keep me interested.”

  “That I can promise. I’m at the same hotel as you, one floor down.”

  Some of the color washed out of her cheeks. “How long have you been there?”

  “I only checked in an hour before the show.” Curious about her reaction, he tilted his head. “Why does that bother you?”

  “It just means I’ll have to check my locks more carefully.”

  The smile died out of his eyes. “No lock would keep me out if I decided to come in, Rox. A no from you would. Make it around noon,” he said and started toward the door. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Luke.” She didn’t move toward him. That was something she couldn’t give. “Have you seen Lily yet?” When he only shook his head, the heart she thought was so barricaded against him broke a little. “I’ll get her for you if you like.”

  “I can’t.” In his entire life he’d only loved two women. Facing both on the same night was more than he thought he could handle. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  Then he was gone, quickly and without another word. Roxanne wasn’t certain how long she stood staring at the door he’d closed behind him. She couldn’t be sure what she was feeling. Her life had been turned upside down when he’d left her. She didn’t think it had righted again by his return. If anything, he’d skewed it in an entirely different manner. This time, it would be up to her to control the angle and degree.

  But she was tired. Bone tired. Even the act of changing from her costume to street clothes seemed almost more than she could bear. Her fingers froze on the snap of her jeans when she heard the knock on her door.

  If he’d come back, she—but no, she thought with a sneer. Luke wouldn’t bother to knock.

  “Yes, who is it?”

  “It’s me, honey.” Eyes bright, Lily poked her head in the door. Some of the gleam faded when she scanned the room and found it empty but for Roxanne. “Mouse told me—I waited as long as I could.” She stepped in, spotted the mess of water and flowers on the floor. “He is here!” The smile was back and brilliant. “I could hardly believe it. Where’s he been? Is he okay? Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know where he’s been.” Roxanne picked up her purse, checking the contents to give her something to do with her hands. “He seems fine, and I have no idea where he is.”

  “But—but—he didn’t just leave again?”

  “Not the way you mean. He’s staying in town, at our hotel. We may have some business to discuss.”

  “Business?” With a laugh, Lily threw her arms around Roxanne and squeezed. “I guess that’s the last thing you two would have to talk about. I can’t wait to see him. It’s like a miracle.”

  “More like one of the seven plagues,” Roxanne muttered.

  “Now, Roxy, I’m sure he must’ve explained everything.”

  “I didn’t want to hear it.” She pulled away, fighting not to resent Lily’s easy acceptance. “I don’t care why he left or where he was. That part of my life’s over.”

  “Roxy—”

  “I mean it, Lily. If you want to kill the fatted calf, go right ahead. Just don’t expect me to join the feast.” She crouched to toss mangled roses in the trash. “It seems we might be working together, temporarily. But that’s all. There’s nothing personal between us anymore. That’s the way I want it.”

  “It may be what you say you want,” Lily said quietly. “It may even be the way you feel right now. But that isn’t the way it is, or ever can be.” Lily knelt down to lay a hand on Roxanne’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell him about Nathaniel.”

  “No.” She tossed a rose aside and stared dully down at the spot of blood where a thorn had pierced her thumb. “I was afraid at first when he said he was at the hotel that he already knew. But he doesn’t.”

  “Honey, you have to tell him.”

  “Why?” Her eyes burned fierce and furious.

  “Luke has a right—”

  “His rights ended five years ago. All the rights are mine now. Nathaniel’s mine. Damn it, Lily, don’t look at me that way.” She sprang to her feet to escape the soft, pitying gaze. “What should I have said? Oh, by the way, Callahan, a few months after you took a hike, I gave birth to your son. Looks just like you, too. He’s a great kid. Why don’t I introduce you to him sometime?” She pressed her hand over her mouth to
hold back a sob.

  “Don’t, Roxy.”

  “I’m not going to.” She shook her head when Lily’s arms came around her. “I never cried over him. Not once. I’m not going to start now.” But she let herself be comforted, turning her cheek to Lily’s shoulder. “What would I tell Nate, Lily? Here’s the father I told you had to go away. He’s back now, but don’t get used to it because he might play now-you-see-him-now-you-don’t.”

  “He wouldn’t turn his back on his son. He couldn’t.”

  “I won’t risk it.” She took a deep breath and stepped back, steadier. “If and when I decide to tell Luke about Nathaniel, it’ll be at a time and place of my choosing. I call the shots on this.” She gripped Lily’s shoulders and held firm. “I want your promise that you’ll say nothing.”

  “I won’t tell him, if you promise to do the right thing.”

  “I’m trying to. Let’s get going, okay? It’s been a long day.”

  Hours later, Roxanne stood in the doorway of the room where her son slept. Shadows were just beginning to fade, going pale and pearly in the early dawn. She listened to Nathaniel breathing. Her child, her miracle, her most potent magic. And she thought about the man who slept in a room below, the man who had helped her create a life.

  And she remembered how frightened she’d been when she’d sat down to tell her father that she was pregnant. How tightly Max had held her. Unflagging support from him, from Mouse and LeClerc. The booties Lily knitted that had looked like mutant mittens, the wallpaper Mouse had surprised her with for the nursery, the milk LeClerc had forced her to drink.

  The day she had felt the baby quicken for the first time. She’d nearly given in and wept then, but she’d held the tears off. Maternity clothes, swollen ankles. That first solid kick that had awakened her out of a sound sleep. Lamaze classes with Lily as her coach. And always that tiny seed of hope that remained planted deep that Luke would come back before their child was born.

  But he hadn’t. She’d gone through eighteen sweaty hours of labor, at turns terrified and exhilarated. She’d watched their son fight his way from her womb, she’d listened to his first indignant cry.

  And every day she’d looked at him and loved him and had seen Luke mirrored in his face.

  She’d watched her son grow, and had seen her father swallowed up by the illness no one could fight. She’d been alone. No matter how much love she’d felt in her home, there had been no one to turn to in the night. No arms to come around her and offer her comfort when she wept because her father no longer recognized her.

  There was no one to stand with her now, and keep watch over her son as the dawn came up.

  26

  Lily fluffed her hair, checked her makeup in the mirror of her rhinestone-studded compact, fixed a bright, friendly smile on her face. She rolled back her shoulders, making sure her tummy—which she hated to admit was becoming the teeniest bit of a problem—was sucked in. Only then was she satisfied enough with her appearance to knock on the door of Luke’s suite.

  It wasn’t a matter of being disloyal to Roxanne, she told herself, fidgeting. All she was doing was saying hello—and maybe she’d give the boy a piece of her mind while she was at it. But it wasn’t being disloyal, even if her heart was nearly bursting with the sheer joy of seeing him again.

  Besides, she’d waited until Roxanne had gone down to her press conference.

  By the time she heard the bolt turn, she’d chewed off most of her lipstick. She held her breath, bumped her smile up a few degrees, then stared blankly at the short, dark-haired man who stood on the other side of the threshold. He stared back at her through silver-framed lenses as thick as her thumb. However much Luke might have changed, Lily thought, he couldn’t have lost six inches in height.

  “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong room.”

  “Lily Bates!” The voice screamed the Bronx and was as friendly as a pastrami on rye. Lily found her hand clasped and pumped enthusiastically. “I’d recognize you anywhere. Any-where! You’re even prettier than you are onstage.”

  “Thank you.” Habit had her fluttering her mink eyelashes even as she levered her weight back to prevent him from pulling her into the room. Any woman with a killer body had best have killer instincts as well. “I’m afraid I got the door numbers mixed up.”

  He kept her hand captured in his and used his other to push up the glasses that were sliding down his prominent hooked nose. “I’m Jake. Jake Finestein.”

  “Nice to meet you.” They continued the little tug-of-war. Lily glanced uneasily over her shoulder, wondering if anyone would come to her aid if she shouted for help. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Mr. Finestein.”

  “Jake. Jake.” He grinned and flashed an amazing set of large white teeth, so straight they might have been surveyed by the Corps of Engineers. “No need for formalities between us, Lily. Wonderful show last night.” His black bean eyes, magnified by the thick lenses, beamed up at her. “Won-der-ful.”

  “Thank you.” She was bigger than he was, she told herself. And certainly outweighed him. His short-sleeved shirt showed puny, toothpick arms and bony wrists. Worst came to worst, she could take him. “I really can’t chat now. I’m running late.”

  “Oh, but you’ve got time for a cup of coffee.” He swung his free hand back to indicate the table laden with pots and cups and covered plates. “And breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten a thing yet this morning. I ordered up some nice bagels. You eat a little bit, have a nice cup of coffee, you relax. Me, I got to eat a little something in the mornings or my system suffers all day. How about some orange juice?” He tugged her in another inch. “They squeeze it fresh.”

  “Really, I can’t. I was just—”

  “Jake, will you quit talking to yourself. It makes me crazy.” Hair still dripping from the shower, Luke strode out from the bedroom buttoning his shirt. He stopped dead, the annoyance on his face shuddering into blank shock.

  “Who needs to talk to himself when he’s got a beautiful woman?” Jake’s grin twisted into a wince as Lily’s fingers tightened on his. “And I mean bee-u-ti-ful. We’ve been having a nice chat. I was just telling Lily she should sit down, have some coffee, maybe a bagel.”

  “I—I could use some coffee,” Lily managed.

  “Good, good. I’m going to pour you some. You want cream? Sugar? Sweet’n Low?”

  “Yes, fine.” She didn’t care if Jake poured heavy-weight motor oil out of the pot, she had eyes only for Luke. “You look wonderful.” She heard the tears in her voice and cleared her throat to disguise them. “I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your breakfast.”

  “It’s all right. It’s good to see you.” It was so awful, so hideously polite. He just wanted to stand and stare and absorb everything about her. The pretty, ridiculously youthful face, the silly enameled parrots that swung at her ears, the scent of Chanel that was already filling the room.

  “So, sit, sit.” Jake made grand gestures toward the table. “You’ll talk, you’ll eat.”

  Luke cut his eyes toward the table. “Take off, Jake.”

  “I’m going, I’m going.” Jake fussed with cups and saucers. “You think I’m hanging around to spoil the big reunion? Mrs. Finestein didn’t raise any fools. I’m going to get my camera and go take pictures like I was a tourist. Madam Lily.” He grasped her hand again, squeezed. “A pleasure, a sincere pleasure.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jake sent Luke a last telling look, then walked to the second bedroom and shut the door discreetly behind him. If he pressed his ear to the crack for a few minutes, what harm did it do?

  “He’s—ah—a very nice man.”

  “He’s a pain in the ass.” Luke worked up what nearly passed as a grin. “But I’m used to him.” Nervous as a boy on his first date, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “So sit. We’ll talk, we’ll eat.”

  Luke’s killingly accurate mimicking of Jake had Lily’s lips trembling up. “I don’t want to take up your time.”

  He would ha
ve preferred being stabbed in the heart. “Lily, please.”

  “Maybe just some coffee.” She made herself sit, keeping the smile planted. But the cup rattled in the saucer when she lifted it. “I don’t know what to say to you. I guess I want to know if you’re okay.”

  “I’m all in one piece.” He sat as well, but for once his appetite had deserted him. He made do with black coffee. “How about you? Roxanne—well, she wasn’t much in the mood to fill me in on everyone last night.”

  “I’m older,” Lily said in a weak attempt at gaiety.

  “You don’t look it.” He searched her face, fighting against emotions that threatened to swamp him. “Not a day.”

  “You always knew just what to say to a woman. Must be the Irish.” She took an unsteady breath and began to pick apart a bagel. “LeClerc’s fine. Crankier than he used to be. He doesn’t come on the road often now. Mouse is married. Did you know?”