“Oh, wait,” she murmured, trying to remember where she’d seen something like this before. “The front of a tabloid. Michael Jackson. It’s a sensory-deprivation tank. What in the world is Luke doing with one of those?”
She wasn’t going to find out by standing there gawking at it, so she left it for the time being. But other than the bed and the tank, there was nothing much in the room. No mirror, no lamps, no dresser spilling over with change and watches and tie tacks. Not that she could’ve seen if there were, given the dismal lighting conditions.
She pulled back the curtain across the French door, flooding the room with harsh wintry light, somewhat distorted by the thick glass, but still welcome.
“Much better,” she said with conviction. No wonder he was skulking around like a member of the Adams family, with a room decorated like this.
The only other thing to look at was the closet. “Oooh,” she whispered. “I forgot about the secret passageway.”
He’d even taken her in there once when she’d begged and begged. You had to tap just right in the back of the closet, and a panel slid away. It led to a mysterious storage room, full of all kinds of old trunks and toys from ancient Blackthorns.
Should she poke? Was she that nosy?
She had her hand on the knob, ready to go exploring, when a very familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Look what I found,” Luke said sardonically. “Gilly Quinn. And here I thought I was being invaded by a traveling troupe of elephants.”
Chapter Seven
“Oh, come on, I didn’t make that much noise,” she protested, releasing the doorknob and assuming an air of innocence.
He merely raised an eyebrow, then strode over to the curtains and yanked them back into place across the window, throwing the room once again into shadow. “You can’t resist screwing around with my life, can you, Gilly?”
“Luke, come on. A little light can’t hurt you.”
“Why in God’s name I put up with you is beyond me,” he muttered.
“Now that sounds like the Luke I know and love.” She gazed at him, frankly curious. After all the hue and cry from her aunt and uncle about how unwell he was and how devastated he’d been after her “misbehavior” on the previous Wednesday, she wanted to judge for herself how he was faring.
Even in the dim room, she could see that he looked well. He was wearing black jeans that fit like a glove, and a sweatshirt that had faded to a steely gray. His hair was a little ragged—looked like he needed a trim—and he had on thick soft socks. Comfortable, yet perfectly normal, not eccentric in the least.
It was just as she’d thought—no unexpectedly sensual kiss from an old friend was going to play havoc with that tough hide. Tough but attractive hide, she amended mentally. She felt the familiar shiver. No question about it—Lucas Blackthorn had plenty of charm in the looks department.
He certainly seemed healthy enough, with more color and less strain than before. She cocked her head to one side, scrutinizing the rigid set of his jaw, the spark of temper in his blue eyes, the thread of tension in his posture. Well, healthy enough physically, anyway. Emotionally, she wasn’t so sure.
“Seen enough?” he asked tersely, glowering at her.
She smiled. “I guess. You look full of vim and vigor. You must be feeling better.”
“Actually, I am better,” he allowed. “Not perfect, but better able to control, uh, things—.”
“You always were big on control.” Gilly wandered casually toward the big black tank with its faint buzzing sound. She tapped it gently. “And is the sensory-deprivation tank helping?”
For the first time she could remember, Luke seemed taken aback. “I didn’t think you’d know what it was.”
“Michael Jackson,” she said offhandedly. “The tabloids.”
There was that eyebrow again.
“Hey, my students bring them to school all the time. I just confiscate them. I don’t read them.”
“That’s what they all say.” He paused. “But yes, actually, it is helping,” he said finally. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes never leaving her. “It’s no big deal. It just helps me relax.”
“Sort of re-creating the cave experience?”
“Nothing like the cave experience.” His tone was flat, and he turned and left the bedroom. Whether or not he expected her to follow was anyone’s guess.
“Hey, wait up,” she called after a last look around. If there were clues to his behavior in the bedroom, she hadn’t found any. Except that his room seemed more like a cave than a room.
He was striding ahead of her down the hall, headed for the stairs. She raced after him. “Listen, Luke, since you’re obviously on the mend, wouldn’t this be a perfect time to come out in public—”
“And support your anti-casino groundswell, right?” he asked cynically.
“Well, now that you mention it…”
He swore under his breath. “Gilly, if I ever accuse you of having anything but a one-track mind, remind me of this moment.”
“Luke, it would be so good for you,” she pleaded, catching his arm to slow him down. “You need to come out of hiding sometime, don’t you think?”
Carefully, with a slight wince, he detached her hand from his arm. “Not yet.”
“You said you were better,” she tried, scooting in ahead of him as they reached the ballroom. She had plans to launch more arguments, but then she took a look around at the remains of his nocturnal garden. “Wow, this is pretty sad.” She picked up the limp frond of a once luscious palm tree. It was only one among the wounded in the collection of plants. “What happened? Not much of a green thumb, huh?”
“Obviously.” He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “It appears they weren’t getting enough natural light. Even nocturnal plants need more sunlight than I was giving them.”
“Huh. Well, that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Gilly’s eyes narrowed as she gazed around at the assortment of dejected flora. “And I hesitate to say I told you so, but you know, Luke, the lesson here for your own life isn’t hard to read.”
He gave her a weary look.
“I’m serious,” she contended. “Just like the plants, you need light and sunshine. You can’t survive shut away, either.”
“Gilly…” His tone was weary, too. “Like I said, if I ever accuse you of having anything but a one-track mind—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it.” But in fact she still didn’t really get it. Luke seemed okay, if a little edgy and moody. So why did he continue to refuse to come out of the house?
She mused on the subject of agoraphobia for a second or two, wondering how people who had it behaved. Could it come up all of a sudden, after someone had spent years being the total opposite of a homebody?
“Luke?” He looked up from the cactus he was fooling with, a wary light in his blue eyes. “If you’re not well and it’s persisted this long, maybe you should see a doctor.”
“You’re forgetting something, Gilly,” he returned evenly. “They threw a whole platoon of doctors at me at the hospital in Rome. They said there was nothing wrong with me, just like I told you.”
“Yes, but there is something wrong with you.” Her voice softened as her compassion grew.
She came closer, backing him against the cactus table. She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.
“Maybe you need to see a different sort of doctor,” she suggested kindly. “Someone who can get to the bottom of your feelings about your ordeal in Crete. I mean, it’s no sin for someone to be experiencing some emotional fragility after an experience like—”
His voice slashed over hers, cutting her off. “I haven’t lost my mind, Gilly. Not yet. Although you’re pushing me closer every time I see you.”
Poor thing. Of course he didn’t want to admit it. She wanted very badly to hug him, but she confined herself to patting his shoulder and his cheek.
Luke looked decidedly nervous as she touched him; he seemed to have developed
a slight tic in his jaw. He stood there, rigid, for several long moments, then suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding her hand away from him.
Her eyes met his, and tension crackled between them like a live wire. His hand was very warm, and she could feel his pulse jump erratically. Or was that hers?
Whoa. This was more than she could handle. Delicately she tugged her hand free and turned away, pretending they had not just shared that bizarre moment.
Touch me not, she thought. But why?
Whatever the reason he was so unwilling to be touched, she felt sure this was just further evidence of her theory. Luke was teetering on the brink of something very strange. She didn’t say it out loud, but she knew her warm, sympathetic gaze told him how she felt.
“There is nothing wrong with my mind,” he repeated softly, firmly.
Gilly needed to lighten this moment, if only for her own sanity. “Okay, so you’re under a Minoan curse, is that it?” she asked with a laugh. But Luke didn’t laugh. “I was just kidding,” she continued. “You don’t believe that, do you?” Still he said nothing. “I was making it up, Luke. Like King Tut’s tomb. There’s no curse on King Minos’s labyrinth, is there?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” He moved away, adding to the distance between them. He picked up one of his cameras and regarded it moodily.
Gilly continued in the same jovial vein. “Well, listen, if you want to find out, we can either take a trip back to the museum—they have a nice Minoan collection—or we can call up Susie Woods, my student with the fascination for things ancient. Susie’s probably ready for her master’s degree in Minoan culture by now.”
“You know, I hadn’t thought of that,” Luke mused, “but it’s not a bad idea.”
“Calling Susie?” she asked doubtfully.
“No, the museum.” He began to pace, still carrying the camera, picking up speed and energy. “Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong. Instead of studying nocturnal plants, reading up on bats, trying to figure out the darkness, maybe what I should’ve been doing was learning about the Minotaur and the labyrinth. I mean, you’re right—what if this is related to the damn bull?”
Well, she’d wanted to see a reaction, hadn’t she? Just not this particular reaction, which made him seem even closer to the edge.
“I don’t really understand any of what you just said,” she told him slowly. “I mean, if you want to go to the museum, that’s great, because at least you’d be outside for a few minutes, which could only be good, if you ask me. Blow the stink off, as my mother used to say.”
“Gilly,” he warned, “don’t dither.”
“I’m not dithering! Okay, okay, back to the point. Yes, we’ll go to the museum if you want to. Just pick a time.”
Carefully, trying to get there before he noticed, she edged nearer. He noticed, and slid away the very same amount. This was like a chess game with living pieces.
She continued, “Okay, so the museum would be lovely. But what’s this about studying the darkness and looking for bulls? What does that mean?”
He shrugged, fussing with the settings on his camera. “I told you before, I’ve been looking into the effect of darkness on things—plants, bats—”
“People,” she finished for him. She narrowed her gaze. The effect of darkness on people… Now why did that sound familiar? He’s clearly more comfortable with darkness than with light. She snapped her fingers.
“Nightshade!”
Luke jumped. “What?”
“Nightshade,” she repeated. “Don’t you read the papers?”
“Sometimes,” he said hastily. “Why?”
“This Nightshade guy has been all over the papers for the past few days because he keeps popping up in the nick of time in West Riverside and saving people…well, saving me, if you want to know the truth.” She knew she was blushing, and she really hated doing that in front of Luke, but she couldn’t hold it back.
“Saving you? That wasn’t in the papers,” he noted, gazing at a point somewhere over her head.
What was with him, anyway? “Well, no, because I didn’t tell them. The first time Devon Drake, the reporter, got front-and-center coverage, and the second time, they mostly focused on Mrs. Mooshman.” She advanced eagerly on Luke. “But I’d really like to know who this guy is. I kind of…He kind of…”
She broke off awkwardly, absolutely refusing to even hint to Luke that she was developing a major crush on a mystery man in a black hat.
“We kind of connected,” she finished lamely.
His gaze was so intent she blushed all over again. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m beginning to get the idea you have a certain fascination for this Nightshade character. A fascination of, shall we say, a romantic nature?”
Gilly gulped. “No, of course not. I’ve never really met him, you know, in the flesh…”
“Well, I hope not. Not in the flesh. Not yet,” he commented with a rather sarcastic edge.
“Luke!” she protested. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just, well, you were studying nocturnal things, and he’s kind of nocturnal, so I thought maybe you could help me figure him out a little better.”
Luke’s face was unreadable. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I asked you,” she returned, stating what should’ve been perfectly obvious. Why was he being so obtuse? “If I understand him, maybe I could find him, and then I would know how he does this…intensity thing.”
“Intensity thing?”
“Yeah.” Gilly sighed, remembering.
She stared into space, no longer seeing the high ceiling of the ballroom, the wavy flowers and leaves, not even Luke. In her mind, she was back on that street corner, deep in the shadows, and Nightshade was looming over her, strong and safe and achingly real.
“He has this way of just wrapping you in his presence,” she whispered, conjuring up the memory of him sweeping her into those powerful arms, carrying her away. “I can’t really explain it—I’ve never met anyone who made me feel that way before. I don’t know how he did it. I mean, he barely touched me, and he only kissed me twice, and the second one was just a quick peck. But man alive, I felt like I’d been knocked off my feet by a typhoon, y’know?”
“No, I wouldn’t know.” Luke’s voice was positively testy. “You didn’t say he kissed you.”
Oops. She hadn’t planned to divulge that. Her cheeks flamed. She wasn’t ashamed she’d kissed him, but it was a private thing, which she had never intended to share with anyone, and especially not with Luke.
“I can’t believe you’re all gooey-eyed over some bizarre vigilante in a Zorro costume,” he fumed, and once again, she was struck by his reaction.
“It’s not Zorro at all. More like the Shadow. And gooey-eyed? I never said I was—”
“It’s written all over you,” Luke retorted. He plunked his camera on a table with such force he must’ve broken it, and then savagely thrust his hands into his pants pockets. He pulled his hands back out with a groan of pain. “Damn,” he muttered, glaring down at his palms. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“What did you do—break a nail?”
“Something like that,” he growled. “But you haven’t answered me, Gilly. Why are you so intrigued by this freak in the sunglasses?”
She ignored his question, choosing, instead, to pose one of her own. “What do you think he’s hiding, Luke? Why would someone risk his life to save someone else and then disappear?” She shook her head impatiently. “It’s like he has a secret or something. What do you think it is?”
“Since he only comes out at night, maybe it’s something glamorous like he’s a vampire,” he snorted. “They’re in fashion these days, aren’t they?”
“Well, I don’t think vampires ever go out of fashion,” she said after a moment of consideration. “But that wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“Gilly, come on! Get with the program.” This time he was the one who closed the distance between them. Very gingerly
he bracketed her shoulders with his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “He’s just some adrenaline junkie who gets his kicks out of lurking in the shadows and then charging out to your rescue—only you, have you noticed? Plenty of other people are mugged every day, and your hero doesn’t raise a finger. Sounds more like a stalker than a hero to me,” he muttered. “A nutcase.”
“Lurking in the shadow and charging out to my rescue…” She threw her arms around Luke. “That’s it! I know how to find him. He so much as told me all I had to do was call and he’d be there.”
Luke stiffened and that tic appeared in his jaw again. “A real Four Top.”
“I was thinking Henry Fonda in that old grapes movie.” Gilly was too happy to care if he was being asinine. She danced away from his embrace, vaguely noticing that the tic disappeared as soon as she was gone. “But don’t you see, Luke? This is so easy. All I have to do is be in danger, and presto! Nightshade will be there.”
There was a long pause. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s perfect!”
“It’s idiotic!” he countered. “You’re going to put yourself in danger on purpose just to flush out a potential date?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” She glared at him. “This is important, Luke. I need to find this guy! I’ve never felt—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve never felt this way before. I heard you the first time.”
She propped herself on a sturdy table full of cacti, swinging her legs happily. What a great plan! Even Luke’s grim mood couldn’t change the fact that she had a plan and she would be seeing Nightshade again very soon. “If you’d ever met him, you would understand,” she maintained fervently.
But Luke wasn’t playing. “Somehow I doubt he’s my type.”
“It doesn’t matter. He is my type. And I’m going to find him.” Fired up with enthusiasm, Gilly headed for the door.
Touch Me Not Page 10