Her phone rang as she walked back toward the jewelry store. She fished it out of her bag and then realized the ringtone belonged to the burner phone she’d purchased for contacting Ginger Vreeland. She didn’t recognize the incoming number. Lifting the phone to her ear, she said crisply, “Arden Mayfair.”
Silence.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
A female voice said anxiously, “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
Arden’s pulse jumped. “Is this Ginger?”
“Don’t say that name.”
“Sorry.” Arden backed up against the building so that she didn’t block pedestrian traffic. “You got my message?”
“What do you want?” The woman’s Low Country drawl was deep and hardened by suspicion and hostility.
“As I tried to explain in my note, we need to see you in person so that—”
“You think I don’t recognize a con when I hear one? There’s no bank, there’s no money and I seriously doubt you’re an attorney. You have five seconds to tell me what you really want.”
“I just want to talk.”
“What about?”
“Did you know Dave Brody is out of prison?”
A brief pause. “So? What’s that to do with you?”
“I work for an attorney named Reid Sutton. I’m sure you recognize his name. Brody is threatening to make life unpleasant for a lot of people if we don’t get him what he wants.”
“Which is?”
“He thinks someone paid you to leave town before you could testify on his behalf, and he wants to know who and why. Personally, I think you were threatened. I think you left town because you were afraid.”
A longer pause. “You don’t know anything about me. If you’re smart, you’ll keep it that way.”
Arden’s pulse quickened. She’d hit a nerve. “We can help you. Just name a time and place and we’ll come meet you.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Did you really think he’d stop at one?”
The hair prickled at the back of Arden’s neck. Phone still to her ear, she turned to glance over her shoulder, scouring the street behind her. “What do you mean?”
“The body that was found in the alley,” Ginger said. “She wasn’t his first victim. If you’re not careful, she won’t be his last.”
“If you know who he is—”
“Just leave me alone, okay? I can take care of myself. And whatever you do, don’t contact my uncle again. If anything happens to him, his blood will be on your hands.”
Arden could hear traffic noises over the phone before the connection dropped. She positioned her body so that she could watch the sidewalk in both directions. No one looked suspicious. No one stared at her for an unseemly amount of time. That made no difference. Her every instinct warned of danger.
Somewhere close by, a coiled snake lay in wait.
Chapter Fifteen
Reid found himself surprisingly nervous when he arrived at Berdeaux Place that night. He told himself he was being ridiculous. Arden had gone out of her way to clarify that she didn’t consider this a date. He was escorting her to the Mayor’s Ball as a friend or her boss. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.
He tugged at his bow tie as she buzzed him in through the gate. He parked, locked his car and then headed across the side lawn to the garden doors. She whisked them open and stepped out onto the patio, backlit by the lamplight spilling out from the parlor.
Reid froze, his breath escaping in a long, slow whistle as he took her in.
She spun so that the airy fabric of her gown caught the breeze. The scent of jasmine deepened in the dark, and the moon rising over the treetops cast the garden in a misty glow. The night suddenly seemed surreal to Reid, as though he were remembering a dream.
He shook his head slightly as if to clear his senses. “That dress...”
She lifted the frothy fabric. “Do you like it?”
“You look... Well, I suspect you already know how you look.” Her hair fell in gleaming waves about her bare shoulders, and when she moved, moonlight sparked off the diamond studs in her earlobes and the crystal belt she wore around her waist.
“It was my mother’s,” she said. “I found it in my grandmother’s closet. I didn’t have time to shop for a new one, and since I got rid of most of my wardrobe before leaving Atlanta, it was either this or nothing.” She turned slowly this time so that he could appreciate the full effect of the flowing fabric. “The fit isn’t perfect, but I don’t think anyone will notice.”
The dress fit her like a damn glove. Reid shook his head again, this time to try to get her out of his head. Not that it had ever worked for him before. “Is this the surprise you have planned for your grandfather? Turning up at the ball looking the spitting image of your murdered mother? You said you wanted to provoke a reaction. This should do it.”
“Yes, but it’s not just for his benefit. I want to see if anyone else is provoked.”
Reid frowned. “You mean the killer? Is that what this is all about? You’re trying to draw him out? I’m surprised you don’t have a magnolia blossom in your hair.”
“I have one inside.”
“I hope you’re kidding.”
She picked a spray of jasmine and tucked it behind her ear. “Better?”
“Not really.”
She removed the spray and lifted the tiny blossoms to her nose. “Okay, maybe I am trying to stir the pot. Listen, there’s something you don’t know. I talked to Ginger Vreeland today. She called on the burner phone.”
Reid stared down at her in the moonlight. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Because I knew I’d be seeing you tonight. And because I didn’t want you to try and talk me out of going to the ball. Reid, she knows who killed Haley Cooper.”
“She said that? Who?”
“She wouldn’t give me a name. She wouldn’t agree to meet me, either. She’s still afraid. She said Haley wasn’t his first victim and if he’s not caught, she won’t be his last.”
“So you decided to bait him?” Reid moved in closer. He wanted to take her by the arms and shake some sense into her. Not literally, of course, but what in the hell was she thinking?
“Someone has to do something. He’s eluded the police for weeks, maybe even for years. If this dress or my appearance catches him by surprise, maybe he’ll give himself away.”
“Or maybe he’ll come after you.” Reid turned to scan the dark garden. The ornate dome stood silhouetted against the night sky, reminding him all too vividly of Arden’s certainty that the killer had watched her from inside the summerhouse, still with her mother’s blood on his hands. He turned back to Arden. “You know this is a terrible idea.”
“What else are we going to do? Sit around and wait for him to kill again? If this is the same person who murdered my mother, you think he won’t come after me anyway? Why do you think he left a white magnolia blossom on the summerhouse steps? He was warning me even then that he’d someday come back for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Do you have a better explanation?” When he didn’t reply, she shrugged. “Maybe I am off-base. Maybe Orson Lee Finch really did kill my mother. In which case, we have nothing to worry about. Let’s just go tonight. Maybe we can even have a little fun. Nothing is going to happen with so many people around.”
“You sound so sure of yourself,” Reid said. “But it’s afterwards that I’m worried about.”
“I’ve taken precautions. Changed the locks, updated the security system. I’m safe here. Try to relax, okay? Maybe we should have a drink before we go. Just a little something to calm the nerves.”
“Calm my nerves, you mean. You’re as cool as a cucumber.”
She gave an excited little laugh. “Not re
ally. I feel buzzed even without anything to drink.”
“You’re enjoying this,” he accused.
“So are you. You just don’t want to admit it.”
She turned and moved back inside. Reid followed, closing and locking the French doors as he stepped into the parlor. Evidently, Arden had found the key to the liquor cabinet. A crystal decanter, an ice bucket and two glasses had been arranged on a drink cart. Arden went over and picked up the tongs.
Reid watched her move in that dress. The bodice was strapless, the skirt so gossamer that when the light struck her from a certain angle, he could glimpse the silhouette of her long legs beneath.
“Sure I can’t tempt you?” she asked.
He swallowed. “Maybe just a small one.”
She put ice and whiskey into the glasses and held one out to him. “To partners in crime,” she said.
He clinked his glass to hers. “To surviving the night.” He downed the contents in one swallow. “It’s getting late. Should we go?”
“In a minute.” She set her glass aside untouched. “Do you mind helping me with my dress first?”
His gaze dropped appreciatively. “What’s wrong with it?”
She turned her back to him. “I managed the zipper, but I couldn’t reach the hook. Do you mind?”
He felt clumsy all of a sudden, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made him fumble with the hook. It was the situation, the woman. All those memories.
“Do you see it?”
“Yeah.” He dealt with the fastener, but his hand lingered. Her skin felt like warm satin. Reid had never touched anything so sexy.
His hands drifted to her shoulders as he bent to drop a kiss at her nape. He felt a shudder go through her, but she didn’t turn, she didn’t move away.
She said in a tremulous voice, “Reid?”
“Arden.”
* * *
HER HEART WAS suddenly beating so hard she couldn’t breathe. She took a moment to try to collect her poise before she turned to stare up at him. A mistake. How well she remembered that smoldering intensity. The tilt of his head. The knowing half smile.
She drew a shaky breath as she held his gaze. “Is this really a good idea?”
He caught her hand and pulled her to him. “Nothing about this night is a good idea. But you can’t open the door looking like that and expect me not to react.”
Her hands fluttered to his lapels. “We’ll be late.”
“When has that ever stopped us?”
Never. Not any event, not any curfew. Nothing had ever stopped them when they wanted to be together.
“We’re not kids anymore,” she said. “Our actions have consequences. If we do this, our working relationship will never be the same.”
He slid his hands down her arms, drawing a shiver. “You said it yourself. Nothing has ever been the same since the first time we kissed in the summerhouse.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Fourteen years is a long time. What if the magic is gone?”
His arms were around her waist now, holding her close. “What if it isn’t?”
She reached up to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and turned his lips into her palm. Such a soft kiss. Such an innocent touch. Arden whispered his name.
His kissed the inside of her wrist, a more sensuous seduction she could hardly imagine. She turned silently in his arms, allowing him to undo the hook he’d fastened mere seconds ago. Then he slid down the zipper and Arden took care of the rest, stepping out of the red chiffon dress and then her high heels.
She untied his bow tie, unbuttoned his collar and slid his jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged out of the sleeves and inhaled sharply when her fingers brushed across his zipper as she tugged loose his shirt. She took his hand, leading him out of the parlor, across the foyer and up the stairs. He paused on the landing, pressing her against the banister as they kissed.
“I didn’t come here expecting this,” he said.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Are you trying to tell me you’re unprepared?”
“I’m always prepared. Isn’t that the Scout Motto?”
“You were never a Scout, Reid Sutton. Not even close.”
He shed his shirt as they kissed their way down the hallway to her room. Moonlight filtered in from the long windows, throwing long shadows across the ceiling.
“Nothing’s changed,” Reid said as he glanced around the room. “I wonder if you can still shimmy down the trellis.”
“I wonder if you can still climb up.” She lay down on the bed and propped herself on her elbows, spreading her legs slightly as she watched him undress.
He didn’t seem to mind her stare. He’d never been the least bit shy about intimacy. Nor had she, for that matter. But fourteen years was a long time. Thirty-two was not the same as eighteen.
He placed a knee on the bed and she lay back as he moved over her. Arden found herself thinking about those fourteen years, the loneliness and disappointments. The guilt and then the pride that had kept her away. She thought about their first kiss in the summerhouse, the first time they’d made love at the beach, the first time he’d told her he loved her. She could drown in those memories, good and bad, but she didn’t want to lose herself to the past. Not with Reid’s tongue in her mouth and his hand between her thighs. Not when that delicious pressure just kept building and building.
Slipping her hand between them, she guided him into her, then wrapped her arms and legs around him. He was leaner than she remembered. Older and more experienced. And yet he still knew her. Knew where to touch her, when to kiss her, how tightly to hold her when her body began to shudder.
And when it was over, he remembered to clasp her hand as they lay on their backs and stared up at the ceiling.
Chapter Sixteen
Reid couldn’t take his eyes off Arden. He could barely keep his hands off her.
He tugged at his bow tie as he leaned a shoulder against the wall and watched her move about the room. He told himself he should be on the lookout for anyone suspicious or anything out of the ordinary. Arden’s dress was bound to provoke strong reactions, but his gaze lingered as his mind drifted back to earlier in the evening.
If he’d had his way, he’d still be comfortably stretched out in her bed, but Arden had insisted they make an appearance at Mayfair House. So they’d climbed out of bed, hit the shower, and one thing had led to another. He closed his eyes briefly, imagining her hands flattened against the tile wall as she pressed her glistening body against his.
Afterward, she’d dried her damp hair, foregoing the magnolia blossom at his insistence, and touched up her makeup. Then they’d redressed like an old married couple. He’d zipped her gown and she’d straightened his bow tie. Now here they were, clothing looking the worse for wear, but totally worth it.
He brushed an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve as he forced himself to survey his surroundings.
He tried to remember the last time he’d been in Mayfair House. He and Arden had been kids, and she’d talked him into going with her because she hadn’t wanted to spend the evening alone with her grandfather. Clement hadn’t been pleased to see him. All through dinner, he’d stared at Reid in moody silence and as soon as the dishes had been cleared, he’d had his driver take them home.
“This place is something, isn’t it? Flowers, champagne, live band. Must have set the old man back a pretty penny. And would you look at those chandeliers.”
Reid turned to acknowledge his father, and lifted his gaze to the ornate ceiling. “Imported from Italy,” he said.
“What?”
“The chandeliers.”
“Is that so? I thought for a moment you were talking about Arden’s dress. She’s something, too. A real head-turner. Though I have to say, I’m a little surprised to see the two of you here together.”
�
��Why’s that?”
Boone gestured with his champagne flute. “You made a point of telling me she’s not your girlfriend, remember?”
“She’s not. We work together.”
Boone smirked. “Do you look at all your employees that way?”
“I only have the one. And I don’t think you’re in any position to cast stones.”
“Oh, I’m not casting stones. I’m just here to enjoy the show.”
“Is Mother with you?” Reid asked pointedly.
Boone sipped his champagne. “She isn’t feeling well tonight. I’m flying solo.”
“Just the way you like it.”
“Let’s make a deal. You stay out of my private life and I’ll stay out of yours.”
Reid shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
Boone set his glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “Since you and Arden have only a working relationship, you won’t mind if I ask her to dance.”
“Knock yourself out,” Reid said. “But don’t be surprised if she wants to lead.”
“I think I can handle Arden Mayfair.”
“Yeah. That’s what I used to think, too.”
* * *
ARDEN HAD FORGOTTEN how charming Boone Sutton could be. Handsome and debonair, and always just a little too smooth in her book. She was surprised when he had asked her to dance. She used the opportunity to glance around the room as they moved over the floor. Curious eyes met hers. She nodded to acquaintances and smiled at her uncle, who stood watching from one of the arched doorways.
“Strange guy,” Boone muttered.
“My uncle? I would say he comes by it honestly, wouldn’t you? My grandfather is nothing if not eccentric.” Her gaze strayed again to the edge of the dance floor where she’d last seen Reid. He’d disappeared, but she couldn’t imagine he’d gone far. She turned her attention back to Boone. “Reid told me about your theory. You think my mother wasn’t Clement Mayfair’s biological child. That would explain a lot, actually.”
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