by Helen Conrad
“Rumors, Mr. Matthews.” The voice was a flinty rasp. “Nothing but rumors. But I thought you’d want to know.”
Sky resisted the urge to scream at the man. “Go ahead. Let’s have it.”
“The buzz is there’s someone in town looking for backing to take you down, Mr. Matthews. Someone who used to work for you and says he had the inside scam on some unsavory activities, the nature of which is unspecified at this time.”
Sky clutched the receiver so tightly his knuckles turned white. “What’s his name?”
“Don’t have that yet. Will call when I do.”
Sky put down the receiver slowly, his face drawn and pale. This was what happened when you got soft, when you tried to play the game by the rules and do nice by everyone. He should have known better. He should have taken care of Kerry Carter when he’d had the chance. The man had said he was going to live off berries in the desert for the rest of his life, and Sky had let him go. He’d believed him. It was time to get tough. Only the strong survived.
This Michael thing was driving him crazy. Winslow Drayton had been so easy to manipulate. He’d never put up much of a fight at all. Even though he’d disapproved of the things Sky had gotten him involved in, he’d needed only the vaguest kind of threat to keep him in line. And his wife had been even easier. She responded so well to money, a commodity she was always short of. It still made him grin to think of how easily she’d handed over the Drayton diamonds when he’d demanded them after Vanessa had begged him for them. Yes, the elegant Pamela Drayton was never a problem.
But the son was a different story. It might just be that Michael was too different. That Michael was history, in more ways than one.
Vanessa came breezing into his office before his secretary even had time to ring him, which was par for the course. He didn’t mind, though. He was always there for his daughter.
“Daddy, you’re late. You promised to take me to Top of the Mark tonight.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her pretty face. “Not tonight, sweetheart. I’ve got trouble I’ve got to take care of.”
Her expression changed. “Michael?” she asked.
Annoyance flashed across his face. When was she going to get it through her lovely head that she was not to mix in his business affairs? “Never mind what it is. It’s going to take up my time.” He thought quickly. Maybe, it would be best if Vanessa were out of the way. “Tell you what, honey. How would you like a few weeks in Paris on me?”
Joy flushed her face. “Really, Daddy? Margot and Katrina are there right now. I could surprise them.”
“Why not?” He reached out and gave her a bear hug. “I’ll have my secretary fix you up with tickets and you can leave in the morning. Your passport is up-to-date, isn’t it?”
Vanessa grinned. “Always. You know me. Oh, thank you, Daddy! I really wanted to go, only all this stuff with Michael has had me down.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “You go off to Paris and forget all about Michael. Promise?”
Vanessa hesitated for only a moment before her dimples appeared again. “I promise, Daddy. And maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have Michael here ready to make up. Won’t you?”
Sky’s face went very cold, but his daughter didn’t notice. “I promise, honey. I’ll have the Michael situation in hand by then. Indeed I will.”
He waited until she’d left, then called his secretary again. “Betty, I want you to put in a call to Las Vegas for me. Get me Nargeant at the Samarkand Hotel. I’ve got some business with my old friend.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Magic Of The Night
Every cell in Michael’s body was crying out for sleep. He dozed for a while, then awoke with a start and lay still, wondering what had disturbed him. This was all he needed—another sleepless night. That ought to put the icing on the cake. He already felt as though he were floundering, not getting to his objective, letting things drift. His luck would only hold out so long.
Actually, he was surprised that they’d made it this far, that the long arm of the law hadn’t snatched them up along the way. Finding Kerry was the first imperative. It had to be done, and fast. A part of him was annoyed that he’d let himself get bogged down with Jessie. If it wasn’t for her he’d probably be in Las Vegas right now. After all, it was only an hour away. Why had they stopped?
But he knew the answer to that. He’d been reluctant to rid himself of her. Damn fool that he was, he enjoyed having her along.
Women were poison. He knew that. He’d learned his lesson well. But somehow Jessie was different from the women he was familiar with. Honest and straightforward, she reminded him of an ocean breeze, or fresh snow. There was no artifice to Jessie. Despite her elaborate plan to take him into custody, there was no real malice in her. She didn’t play games.
He was going to miss her.
Restless, he got up out of bed and went to the window, pulling aside the drapes to look out on the moonlit landscape. The first thing he saw was something in a flowing white gown running toward a stand of shimmering trees, free as a colt that had bolted the corral. He knew without thinking twice that it was Jessie.
He had two choices here. He could ignore her, go back to bed and try to sleep, preparing for an early departure in the morning. Or he could go out to see what she was doing... to see what she was like in the moonlight. His hands gripped the edge of the windowsill while temptation warred with resolve inside him.
Jessie lifted her face to the cool breeze and listened to it stir the cottonwood trees. The desert smelled clean and earthy, like crushed fall leaves and cactus flowers. The folds of the flannel nightgown flattened against her legs and her long, thick hair flew about her face in a cloud of reddish-gold. Her heart was still hammering from her run across the field.
She’d gone to see the horses first, though there were only two left in the stables and neither was familiar from the old days. Then she’d gone to visit the stand of cottonwoods where she used to hide when she didn’t want the others to find her.
A fence stood there now, and she leaned against it, looking toward the hills and thinking about time and how it changed things.
“Jessie.”
She whirled. Michael was coming toward her, stepping out of the shadows.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked as he neared her. “It’s cold.”
“I like it cold.” If it had been anyone else, she would have resented the intrusion. Her heart beat quickly again, but not from the exercise this time. He looked darkly handsome with his black hair falling over his forehead.
He stopped just inches from her. She gazed up at him. His silver-blue eyes glistened in the moonlight.
He studied her for a moment, noting the loose hair, the soft white fabric of her gown and the way it clung to her breasts, the glow of her dark eyes. He could hardly believe this was the same woman he’d ridden across Arizona with. The tomboy was gone. She looked soft and seductive and irresistibly touchable.
“You’re beautiful,” he said at last. “You should have worn this to those Christmas dances. Every boy in town would have wanted to dance with you.”
She flushed in the darkness, but his words pleased her. “I doubt it.”
“I’m sure of it. I’ll show you.”
Before she could stop him he’d swept her into his arms and was whirling her around the yard, humming a Strauss waltz. She laughed, resisting a little at first, but then falling into the rhythm and letting him guide her. It was ecstasy to be held in his strong arms, to feel his heat so close.
His hand grazed her breast and an ache started inside her. She wanted to press herself against him, and that embarrassed her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling that way about a man before. Her whole life had been measured in incidents of fighting off clumsy attempts to arouse her, giving in occasionally, then regretting it. But this was different. This was something she wanted, and she didn’t know why. So she denied it, suppressed it and enjoyed the moment.
He felt her hair whip across his face as they made a turn and he wanted to feel it again, to bury himself in it, in her. A wave of desire washed over him, an impulse so strong it was closer to need than to want. He had to steel himself not to show it, not to pull her against him so that there could be no mistake in her mind....
Abruptly he stopped, pulling away from her and leaning over the fence. She followed him, laughing softly, not yet aware of why he’d drawn back.
“Where did you get these clothes?” she asked, letting her hand flatten against the plaid cotton fabric of his shirt with the familiarity the dance had brought with it.
He shuddered as the heat of her touch burned right through the cloth and into his skin. She removed her hand, puzzled, and he tried to brush his response off with a grin.
“Cerise,” he told her. “She gave me some things her ex-husband had left behind.”
She nodded, looking at the snug jeans and form-fitting shirt. “Nice,” she allowed. “You look different.” She grinned at him. “Cerise is so generous. I’m surprised that’s all she offered you.”
He threw her a cynical smile. “Saying things like that makes you sound like her.”
“God forbid!” She groaned.
They lapsed into silence, both leaning against the fence and staring at the blue clouds scudding across the inky sky on the horizon. She shivered and he noticed, but he made no move to protect her.
She felt the excitement that quivered between them, but she wasn’t sure he felt it, too. She only knew it was dangerous. She was a little intoxicated by the night air, the moonlight. The desert.
“Listen.” She touched his arm, her fingers curling around his biceps. The muscular bulge felt thrillingly masculine. “Hear that coyote howl?”
He didn’t answer her question. Staring down at where her hand rested, he said softly, “Do you want to make love?”
She gasped at the directness of his question, yanking her hand away from him. “No!”
“Then don’t touch me like that again. Because I do.”
She shrank back, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the burning intensity of his. She was shaking and she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the emotions bottled up inside her.
“Are you afraid of me, Jessie?” he whispered.
“Not... not physically.”
“I’m afraid of me,” he murmured, still staring at her. “I’m afraid of doing something stupid, something that will mess everything else up. Do you know what I mean?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I do.” Her hand pressed against the rough wood of the fence. So he felt it, too, the magic between them. And what did they do now? Deny it? Ignore it? Or let it flower?
She looked at him, trying to read his expression in the darkness. His eyes appeared huge, but clouded, obscure. And yet she felt as though she could talk to him. She’d never felt this way with a man before. In her experience, men played rough games and liked dinner on time and a beer when they were thirsty and a woman when the urge hit them. But they didn’t want to hear about feelings.
Come to think of it, she was usually a little that way herself. She didn’t like girl talk all that much. She’d taken some pride in the fact that she didn’t cry easily, didn’t need to talk things to death.
But this was different. She was feeling things she’d never felt before. She had a need to sort them out a bit, talk them through. This man seemed capable of listening. And maybe even understanding. It was worth a try.
She moved closer to him, but leaned against the wood again, staring out across the yard. “I... I kind of feel like I’m crazy, Michael. I don’t know who you are or what you’re all about. Being with you has been like living in another world.”
He leaned on the fence beside her, his eyes half-closed. “I know.”
“You’re different. I’ve never known a man like you. I don’t know how to read you, what you want.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m not so different,” he finally answered. “I want the same things every man wants—respect, friendship...love.”
She half turned toward him and opened her palms to him beseechingly. “But who are you? I don’t really know. And I need to know.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are you asking whether you can trust me? I’m not a criminal, Jessie. I’m innocent of the charges they’re hunting me on.”
“You’ve told me that before.”
“Yes, and I mean it. I’ll tell you more now, if you like.”
She nodded, folding her arms across her chest and hugging herself to keep warm. “First tell me what you went to prison for.”
His head jerked up at her words. “How did you know?” he demanded.
“From what you said this morning about not wanting to be locked up again.”
“Oh.” His face relaxed and he looked away. “Well, you’re right. I was in prison for eighteen months. But that had nothing to do with this.”
She studied his profile, set off by a line of silver moonlight. “I want to know, anyway.”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Why not. I was convicted of embezzling funds from clients of my father’s stockbrokerage. I served my sentence at Yerba Buena, a minimum security prison in northern California. Eighteen months of pure hell. I found out prison is just as bad as they say it is, and then some. I hated every minute of it.” His voice was a monotone as he recounted his past. “So that’s it. Now you know all.”
“Except for one thing. You weren’t guilty then, either. Were you?”
He stared at her. There was a glow around her, a halo effect. She seemed pure, a being from beyond human experience. Or maybe he was just hallucinating. “How did you know that?” he murmured at last.
Something warm was curling inside her. She felt a sureness, a rightness. “Tell me about it.”
“I pleaded guilty. Everyone else believed it.”
“I don’t. Why did you do it?”
He’d never told anyone. At first it had been to protect his father. But after his father had died, it had been his own pride that had stilled him. His own arrogance, perhaps. But he was going to tell her, this woman in white, this angel. And telling her would be like releasing a burden from his soul.
“My father was a kind, honorable man, but he became a stockbroker to please his family, when what he really wanted to do was sculpt.”
“Sculpt.”
“Yes. He made marvelous animal figures for me when I was a boy. But that wasn’t real work, you see. So he had to do something deemed proper for the eldest son of an upper-class family. He tried hard. For years he seemed to pull it off. Finally, his business went bad through pure mismanagement.”
And other things. Now that he knew more, he understood more, too. Sky Matthews had been involved, he was sure of it. His father had been laundering money for Sky. He’d seen the evidence at the time and he’d ignored it. But now all the pieces fit.
“I’d been working for other companies up till then, in New York. I came home toward the end and tried to help him straighten things out. But it was too late. He’d used money from new clients to cover funds he’d misappropriated from old clients, and finally the whole thing fell apart.”
There was no emotion in his voice, but Jessie could detect the emotion in his heart. He’d loved his father. That came through clearly. And what he was telling her hurt a lot.
“He’d cut corners here and there, mostly to make sure my mother had all the things she felt she needed. And over the years, mistakes added up. The whole thing looked crooked on paper. It looked deliberate. Someone had to pay.”
She felt it, felt his pain, felt his sense of responsibility. Felt his anger. “Why did that someone have to be you?”
He gave her a long look. “It couldn’t very well be my father. He was sick. I couldn’t stand to think of him disgraced. Locked away. I knew he’d never live through it.” He shrugged. “So I took the rap. It was easy enough to do.” Easy to do, hard to stand
. He’d numbed himself for months, not allowing himself to feel anything. But he’d hated prison with every fiber of his being, and he knew he could never go through that again.
All in all, he was at peace with himself. He knew he’d done the best he could for his father and he was satisfied with the way things had gone. He had no regrets.
But once was enough. Never again would he go to jail for something someone else had done.
“And these new charges?” she asked calmly.
“A man named Sky Matthews, an old family friend, was the only one to offer me a job when I got out. When I realized he was running a smuggling operation, I confronted him, then went to the authorities.” He smiled ruefully. “But he got to them before I did, claiming I was the criminal. It came down to the word of an ex-con against a big man in town. Naturally they believed him.”
The unfairness tore at her. “But you’re not guilty.”
“No. I’m not guilty.”
She nodded. She’d known it instinctively. “How about the diamonds? Did you steal the diamonds like they said?”
“Steal the diamonds.” If the light had been better she could have seen how bitter his smile was. How could he steal something that already belonged to him? “No, Jessie. I didn’t steal them.”
That was it, then. She was on the right side. It was a relief to know for sure.
“Now that you know all this, are you still afraid of me, Jessie?”
She met his gaze without a smile. “More than ever.”
He loved her honesty. His hand rose and took a strand of her hair, letting its silky length slip between his fingers.
She reached up and stilled his hand, ringing her fingers about his wrist. “I want to go with you tomorrow,” she said.
He stared at her. “I shouldn’t let you. It could be dangerous.”
She smiled at his words. “But you will let me.”
His hand slipped into her hair, the palm caressing her cheek. “I may have to,” he murmured.
Her hand covered his and she closed her eyes, savoring every moment. His lips touched hers briefly, caressingly