Eight Classic Nora Roberts Romantic Suspense Novels

by Nora Roberts

  “Interested in my miniature rogues’ gallery?”

  “Oh.” She remembered the portrait in her hand and returned it to the mantel. “Yes, it’s very entertaining.”

  “That one of Paul was taken right after Eve and I were married. I didn’t know what to make of him then any more than I do now. He mentioned you to me.”

  “He—” Surprise, pleasure, embarrassment. “Really?”

  “Yes, I can’t recall him ever mentioning a woman by name before. It’s one of the reasons I was glad you could make this trip to see me.” He crossed to her to take her hand in both of his. Up close, the smile that had devastated women for generations was very potent. “Let’s sit by the fire, shall we? Ah, and here’s our tea.”

  A second maid wheeled in the cart while they settled in two balloon-back chairs before the blaze. “I want to thank you for agreeing to see me, and on a weekend.”

  “My pleasure.” He dismissed the maid with a friendly nod, then poured out himself. “I have to be at the theater by noon for the matinee, so I’m afraid my time’s limited. Lemon or cream, dear?”

  “Lemon, thank you.”

  “And do try these scones. Believe me, they’re delightful.” He took two, treating himself to a hefty portion of marmalade. “So, Eve’s stirring up mischief with this book, is she?”

  “You could say she’s generated a great deal of interest and speculation.”

  “You’re diplomatic, Julia.” Again that quick, woman-melting smile. “I hope we’ll be Julia and Rory. More comfortable that way.”

  “Of course.”

  “And how is my fascinating ex-wife?”

  Though it wasn’t blatant, Julia caught the affection in his tone. “I’d say she’s as fascinating as ever. She speaks fondly of you.”

  He sipped his tea with a murmur of appreciation. “We had one of those rare friendships that grew warmer after lust cooled.” He laughed. “Not to say she wasn’t more than a little peeved at me toward the end of the marriage—with good cause.”

  “Infidelity often ‘peeves’ a woman.”

  His grin flashed, so much like Paul’s, Julia couldn’t prevent an answering smile. Direct women had always charmed him. “My dear, I’m the foremost expert on just how women react to infidelity. Fortunately, the friendship survived—in large part, I’ve always thought, because Eve is so tremendously fond of Paul.”

  “You don’t find it odd that your ex-wife and your son are so close?”

  “Not at all.” He sampled a scone as he spoke, eating slowly, enjoying every morsel. It wasn’t difficult for Julia to imagine he had enjoyed his women in much the same way. “Frankly, I was a poor father. I’m afraid I simply had no idea what to do with a growing boy. Now, in babyhood, you just stood by the crib now and again and cooed, or walked through the park pushing a pram, looking proud and rather smug. We had a nanny to deal with the less pleasant aspects of parenting.”

  Unoffended, he chuckled at her expression, then patted her hand before freshening the tea. “Julia dear, don’t judge me too harshly. At least I admit my failings. The theater was my family. Paul had the misfortune to be born to two disgracefully selfish and extraordinarily gifted people who hadn’t a clue about how to rear a child. And Paul was so terrifyingly bright.”

  “You make that sound like an offense rather than a compliment.”

  Aha, he thought, and covered his unrepentant grin by dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. The lady was smitten. “At the time I’d say the boy was more of a puzzle I hadn’t the wit to solve. Now, Eve was quite natural with him. Attentive, interested, patient. I’ll confess that through her Paul and I enjoyed each other more than we had before.”

  Making judgments again, Jules, she cautioned herself, and struggled to shift back into objective gear. “Would you mind if I turned on my tape recorder? It makes it easier for me to be accurate.”

  He hesitated for only a moment, then gestured his assent. “By all means. We want accuracy.”

  With a minimum of fuss, she set it on the edge of the tea table and switched it on. “There was quite a bit written about you and Eve, and Paul during the first year or so of your marriage. A kind of family portrait emerges.”

  “Family.” Rory tested out the word, then nodded over his teacup. “It was an odd concept for me, but yes, we were a family. Eve wanted a family very badly. Perhaps because of what she felt she missed growing up. Or perhaps due to the fact she had reached the age when a woman’s chemistry tricks her into yearning for prams and nappies, the patter of little feet. She had even convinced me that we should have a child of our own.”

  This new and fascinating information put Julia on alert. “You and Eve planned to have a baby?”

  “My dear, Eve is a very persuasive woman.” He chuckled and settled back. “We planned and strategized like two generals camped on the enemy line. Month after month, my sperm waged war on her ovum. The battles were not without their excitement, but we never achieved total victory. Eve went to Europe—France I believe, to see some specialist. When she returned, it was with the news that she could not conceive.” He set his cup down. “I must say, she took what I knew was, for her, devastating news on the chin. No weeping and wailing or cursing God for Eve. She threw herself into her work. I know she suffered. She slept poorly, and all her appetites diminished for several weeks.”

  Objective? Julia asked herself as she stared into the leaping fire. Not a chance. Every sympathy was aroused. “You never considered adoption?”

  “Odd that you should mention adoption.” Rory’s eyes narrowed as he thought back. “It was an option that occurred to me. I hated to see Eve fighting off the unhappiness. And to tell you the truth, she had gotten me stirred up about the idea of having another child. When I mentioned the possibility to her, she got very quiet. She even cringed, as if I had struck her. She said—how did she put it exactly? Rory, we’ve both had our chance. Since there’s no going back, why don’t we concentrate on moving forward?”

  “Meaning?”

  “I suppose I thought she meant that we had done our best to make a child, and had failed, so it was wiser to get on with our lives. That is what we did. As it happened, getting on with our lives eventually meant getting on with them separately. We parted amicably, even discussed doing another project together.” His smile was a bit wistful. “Perhaps we will yet.”

  Eve might have been so interested in the story of Brandon’s conception—the girl who had become pregnant unwillingly—because she herself had been a woman unable to become pregnant, Julia reflected. But this wasn’t something Rory could answer. She led him back to an area he could discuss.

  “Your marriage was considered a solid one. It was a shock to most people when it dissolved.”

  “We had a hell of a good run, Eve and I. But the curtain must come down on every performance sooner or later.”

  “You don’t believe in ‘until death do us part’?”

  He smiled, wickedly charming. “My dear, I believe it, have believed it with a full heart. Each time I’ve said it. Now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. The theater is a man’s most demanding mistress.”

  She turned off her recorder, then tucked it into her briefcase. “I appreciate your time, and your hospitality, Mr. Winthrop.”

  “Rory,” he reminded her, taking her hand as they rose. “I hope this isn’t good-bye. I’d be happy to talk with you again. The theater’s dark tomorrow. Perhaps we could continue this over dinner.”

  “I’d like that, if it wouldn’t interfere with your plans.”

  “Julia, a man’s plans are meant to be changed for a beautiful woman.” He lifted his hand to her lips. Julia was smiling at him when the sitting room doors opened.

  “Smooth as ever, I see,” Paul commented.

  Rory kept Julia’s tensed hand in his as he turned to his son. “Paul, what a delightful and ill-timed surprise. I don’t have to ask what brings you.”

  Paul kept his eyes on Julia’s. “No, you don’t. I
sn’t there a matinee today?”

  “Indeed there is.” Rory stiffled a laugh. It was the first time he’d seen that reckless hunger in his son’s eyes. “I was just taking my leave of this charming lady. Now, I believe I’ll have to pull rank and secure two tickets for tonight’s performance. It would please me very much if you’d attend.”

  “Thank you. I—”

  “We’ll be there,” Paul interrupted.

  “Excellent. I’ll have them delivered to your hotel, Julia. Now I’ll leave you in what I’m sure are very capable hands.” He started out, pausing beside his son. “At last you’ve given me the opportunity to say you have faultless taste. If it wasn’t for Lily, old boy, I’d give you a hell of a run for her.”

  Paul’s lips quirked, but when his father made his exit, the smile disappeared as well. “Don’t you think traveling to London is a rather elaborate way to avoid me?”

  “I’m doing my job.” All nerves and annoyance, she picked up her briefcase. “Don’t you think following me to London is a rather elaborate way to hold this conversation?”

  “Inconvenient would be my word.” He crossed the room with the kind of economic grace that reminded Julia of an expert hunter who’d caught the scent. Skirting the chair, he stopped to stand with her in front of the fire. It sizzled through a log and shot out a rain of angry sparks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to see my father?”

  His words were as measured as his steps had been, she noted. Slow and patient. As a result, hers came out too quickly.

  “It didn’t seem necessary to tell you my plans.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I see no reason to check with you.”

  “Then I’ll give you one.” He pulled her against him, crushing her mouth, jumbling her senses. The move was so violent, so unexpected, she didn’t have time to protest. She managed, barely, to draw in a breath.

  “That’s not a—”

  He covered her mouth again, cutting off her words, clouding her thoughts. On a throaty moan, she dropped the briefcase to hold him closer. In that instant when rational thought was overtaken by the senses, she gave him everything.

  “Am I making myself clear enough?”

  “Shut up,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just shut up.”

  He closed his eyes, outrageously moved by the way she rested her head on his shoulder. The gesture, the catchy little sigh she made, had him wanting to carry her off somewhere safe and quiet. “You worry me, Julia.”

  “Because I came to London?”

  “No, because I came after you.” He drew her back. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “You’re at the Savoy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go. I’d hate for one of my father’s servants to walk in while I’m making love with you.”

  • • •

  The bed felt safe. The room was quiet. Her body was as fluid, as intoxicating as wine under his. Each shudder, each sigh he eased from her had his blood swimming faster. He’d kept the curtains wide when she would have closed them, to give himself the pleasure of watching her face in the thin winter sunlight.

  He hadn’t known there could be so much pleasure. It had surrounded him as he’d carefully, slowly, stripped her of the tidy business suit she wore, found the slither of silk beneath. It had pounded through him as he’d peeled that silk away, inch by erotic inch. She was there, delicate, mysterious, arousing, yielding with a sigh when he’d lowered her to the bed.

  Now she was with him, slick, damp skin sliding over his, her breath trembling in his ear, her hands gentle, then greedy, then desperate. He could feel the needs vibrate from her, feel the wild excitement as he satisfied them one by one.

  It was she who altered the pace, she who whipped up the speed until they were rolling over the bed in tangled, turbulent, titanic passion.

  The bed was no longer safe, but full of dangerous delights. The room was no longer quiet, but echoing with whispered demands and broken moans. Outside, the weakening sun was swallowed up and rain fell in sheets. As gloom rushed into the room, he took her with a blind, ravenous hunger he feared would never be quenched.

  And even when they lay quiet, wrapped close and listening to the rain, he could taste those little licks of hunger.

  “I need to call Brandon,” Julia murmured.

  “Mmmm.” Paul shifted, fitting his body to hers and cupping her breasts. “Go ahead.”

  “No, I can’t … I mean I can’t call him while we’re …”

  He chuckled, nuzzling her ear. “Jules, the telephone service is an auditory one, not a visual one.”

  It didn’t matter if she felt like a fool, she shook her head and eased away. “No, really, I can’t.” She looked at her robe, where it lay over the back of a chair three feet away. Noting her expression, Paul grinned.

  “Want me to close my eyes?”

  “Of course not.” But it wasn’t easy for her to walk to the robe, slip into it, knowing he was watching her. “You’re sweet, Julia.”

  She belted the robe, staring at her own hands. “If that’s your way of saying I’m unsophisticated—”

  “Sweet,” he repeated. “And I’ve ego enough to be pleased you’re not used to being in this position with a man.” The need to ask her why that was true pulled at him, but he resisted, then glanced toward the rain driving at the windows. “I’d thought to show you a bit of London, but this doesn’t seem to be the day for it. Why don’t I go in the other room and ring up some lunch?”

  “All right. Would you check for messages?”

  She waited until he’d pulled on his slacks before she placed the call. Ten minutes later she walked into the parlor to see Paul standing by the window, lost in his own thoughts. She took what was for her a large step and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his back.

  “It’s seventy-eight and sunny in L.A. The Lakers lost to the Pistons and Brandon went to the zoo. Where are you?”

  He laid his hands on hers. “I was standing here wondering why I always feel like a foreigner in the place where I was born. We had a flat in Eaton Square once, and I’m told my nanny often took me for walks in Hyde Park. I don’t feel it. Do you know I’ve never even set a book here? Whenever I come here, I expect to feel that click of recognition.”

  “It doesn’t matter so much really. I don’t even know where I was born.”

  “And it doesn’t concern you?”

  “No. Well, sometimes, because of Brandon.” Wanting the contact, she nuzzled her cheek against his back. His flesh had cooled, and hers warmed it again. “But in the day-to-day way of things, I rarely think of it. I loved my parents, and they loved me. They wanted me.” The way he brought her fingertips to his lips made her smile. “I suppose that’s the biggest part of being an adopted child—knowing you were wanted that badly, that completely. It can be the most sturdy of bonds.”

  “I guess that’s the way it is for Eve and me. I never really knew what it was to be wanted until I was ten, and she walked into my life.” He turned, needing to see her face. “I wonder if you can understand, I never really knew what it was to want, until you.”

  His words caused something inside her to shift, to open, to yearn. More than his touch, more than his desire, those simple words broke down all the walls. “I …” She moved away. Seeing clearly into her own heart didn’t make her less afraid. “I thought—I’d hoped,” she corrected herself, “after I’d realized we might be together, like this, that I’d be able to handle it—well, the way I imagine men handle affairs.”

  Suddenly nervous, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “Which is?”

  “You know, casually, enjoying the physical end of it without crowding in emotions or expectations.”

  “I see.” He watched her move. The nerves weren’t all his, he realized. Julia always moved when she was tense. “Is that the way you think I’m handling this?”

  “I don’t know. I can speak only for myself
.” She forced herself to stop, to turn and face him. It was easier with the width of the room between them. “I wanted to be able to take this relationship at face value, to enjoy it for what it was. Good sex between two adults who were attracted to each other.” She made a concerted effort to take in one quiet breath and release it slowly. “And I wanted to be sure I could walk away when it was over, completely unscathed. The problem is I can’t. When you walked in this morning, all I could think was how much I’d wanted to see you, how much I’d missed you, how unhappy I’d been because we were angry with each other.”

  She stopped, straightened her shoulders. He was grinning at her, rocking back and forth on his heels. In a minute she was sure he’d be whistling. “I’d appreciate it if you’d take that smug look off your face. This isn’t—”

  “I love you, Julia.”

  Numb, she lowered herself to the arm of a chair. If he’d jammed a fist into her solar plexus, he couldn’t have taken her breath away more efficiently. “You—you were supposed to let me finish, and then say something about appreciating each moment for what it was.”

  “Sorry. Do you really think I jumped on the Concorde with hardly more than a change of underwear just so I could spend the afternoon in bed?”

  She said the first thing that came to mind. “Yes.”

  His laugh was quick and deep. “You’re good, Jules, but not that damn good.”

  Not quite sure how to take that, she angled her chin. “A few minutes ago you said—actually, it was more of a groan—that I was magnificent. Yes,” she said, and folded her arms. “That was the word. Magnificent.”

  “Did I?” Christ knew, she was. “Well, that’s entirely possible. But even magnificent sex wouldn’t have pulled me away from a very difficult stage of my book. At least not for more than an hour or so.”

  And that, she supposed, put her in her place. “Then why the hell did you come?”

  “When you’re mad, your eyes go the color of soot. Not a very flattering description, but accurate. I came here,” he continued before she could think of a proper response, “because I was worried about you, because I was furious you went off without me, because I want to be with you if there’s any kind of trouble. And because I love you so much I can barely breathe when you’re not with me.”