Jeopardy

by Fayrene Preston

  Preface

  SwanSea

  1909

  Bright golden sunshine and sweet breezes poured through the open French doors to fill the otherwise empty ballroom. Perfectly polished gold-edged mirrors caught the reflection of the ballroom’s gleaming floors and the stately marble fireplace. Three huge crystal chandeliers glittered against the backdrop of a frescoed ceiling decorated with silver, gold, and mother-of-pearl swans and peacocks. The chandeliers were made up of layer after layer and row after row of petal-shaped crystal prisms, each as intricately cut and as sparkling as a diamond. The center chandelier, the largest, had been lowered by its pulley for cleaning and had not been returned to its high-ceilinged aerie.

  At the end of the long room, a big door slowly opened and a little girl, her face alive with curiosity, intelligence, and spirit, peeked around it. And what she saw in the big, empty room made her golden eyes widen with delight.

  The long mirrors reflected her image as she skipped toward the middle of the room. Why, she wondered, was such a splendid place empty? It was so bright and beautiful and warm. It had pictures of animals on the ceiling and mirrors on its walls. There was so much to do and see. What should she do first?

  She stopped and glanced in a mirror. She definitely looked like a princess, she decided. Her white dress with its lace ruffles and petticoats was new, and she hadn’t put one single run in her silk stockings, nor was there a single scuff mark on her white leather shoes. Even her satin hair ribbon was still in place. Nanny would be so pleased, she thought happily, and curtsied to herself. She giggled at her reflection and heard the faint echo of her giggle come back to her. How wonderful! She spread out her arms and twirled around and around until she was so dizzy she fell right on her bottom.

  Laughing, she shook her head to clear it, then picked herself up and walked to the center chandelier. The just-washed crystals glinted and sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. She poked at one of the ciystals, and colors shot out from its multifaceted prism to make a rainbow on her white dress. She poked at it again, harder this time, and the colored rainbow shimmered over her dress and onto the floor. Enchanted by her discovery, she circled the chandelier, running her fingers along the crystal petals. The movement created sweet, bell-like music that sounded like a choir of angels, she decided, while hundreds of rainbows danced and flashed over the floor and over her. It was all so exciting and so much fun.

  “Arabella Linden, what are you doing?” a stern voice asked.

  She squealed with pleasure at the sight of the tall, handsome man and ran to him, her arms outspread. “Papa! I’m so glad you’re here. Isn’t this a wondrous room?”

  He scooped her into his arms and hugged her to him. She was all lace and satin and scuffed knees, his little Bella. “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady? I left you in the kitchen with the cook to have tea while I discussed business with Mr. Edward Deverell. I expected you to stay there until I came to get you.”

  “Mr. Deverell’s eyes don’t smile like yours do, Papa. Why is that?”

  “Never mind about Mr. Deverell. I’m waiting for an explanation.”

  A practiced coquette with her father, she smoothed her finger back and forth over his starched collar. “I finished tea, and when Cook went out back to her garden, I decided to explore. ”

  Her radiant smile could melt an iceberg, he thought with secret pride. “That was a veiy rude thing to do, Arabella. When Cook came back and found you gone, she became quite alarmed. We decided to organize a search party, and I volunteered to take the second floor.”

  “And you found me,” she said brightly. “Clever Papa.”

  His mouth twitched with humor, but he did his best to keep his tone severe. “Your mother says I spoil you, and I’m beginning to think she’s right. I brought you along with me this afternoon to give you a special treat, but you are going to make me regret it.”

  Her small face crumpled with dejection. “I’m sorry. Papa, but this is such a splendid house, I couldn’t resist. I didn’t mean to be gone long.”

  A look of puzzlement crossed his face. “Weren’t you frightened being all alone up here? The halls are dark and most of the rooms are shut off.” She reached out a small hand and patted his cheek comfortingly. “There’s nothing to be frightened of here at SwanSea.”

  He shook his head, not really understanding his small daughter. “Cook told me the only reason this room is open is because the maids were cleaning here. They’ll be closing it up again within the hour.”

  She gave a small cry of distress. “But why? The room is special. It has rainbows in it.”

  He sighed. “Bella, Bella, what am I going to do with you? Well, never mind. I’ve found you, that’s what’s important for now.” He set her on her feet, but kept her hand in his. “Let’s go tell eveiyone you weren’t lost after all. You had simply found a room with rainbows in it and were playing.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait to see Edward Deverell’s face when I tell him that.”

  At the door she held back and looked over her shoulder. The room appeared golden in the afternoon sunlight. She smiled and lifted her small hand. “Good-bye,” she whispered. “I’ll try to come back one day.”

  Her father tugged on her hand. “Come on, Arabella.”

  She giggled and then she was gone. But the happy, warm feeling of her laughter remained . . . Even after the room was closed up again.

  One

  DiFrenza’s Boston, Massachusetts

  Present Day

  Angelica DiFrenza brushed a pink satin negligee set off the arm of her office chair, shoved the last piece of a Hershey bar into her mouth, and thoughtfully viewed her desk. Where was that printout of last week’s sales figures? It had to be here . . . somewhere.

  She seized a wine-colored high-heeled shoe that had been serving as a paperweight and tossed it over her shoulder; it hit the wall behind her with a soft thud, then bounced to the floor. An elegant crocodile bag suffered a similar fate as she chucked it across the room toward a mound of purses that was next to an open portfolio of dress sketches.

  As she paused to take a swig of diet soda, her attention was caught by a short section of a rope of faux pearls sticking out from beneath a stack of orders. She freed the necklace and slung it over the comer of the chair’s high back. Next she switched a basket of perfume samples from atop one pile of fabric samples to another, then shoved a box of shimmering beads to the edge of the desk. The action sent a pile of silk scarves fluttering from the desk to the floor.

  And still there was no sign of the sales figures.

  “Where is that damned printout?” she said, her words mumbled because of the chocolate in her mouth. “I saw it just a minute ago.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her head came up, and her eyes widened with surprise. Amarillo Smith lounged in her office doorway. For a moment her heart felt as if it had ceased to function. “Oh, Lord, has something happened to Nico and Caitlin?"

  Immediately he pushed away from the doorjamb and advanced into the office. “No,” he said quickly, his hard face and golden eyes somehow very reassuring, “there’s nothing wrong. They’re fine.”

  With a hand over her heart and a sigh of relief, she slumped against the back of her chair. “For a second—”

  “Nico called me from Athens last night after he talked with you, and I’m sure he told me the same thing he told you. They’re having a great time. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

  She nodded, reflecting that he had caused her to feel many emotions over the years, but, with this one exception, he had never frightened her. Beneath her hand, her heart was pounding at an alarming rate.

  She eyed him warily. He was her brother Nico’s best friend and business partner in a private investigation firm. When h
e had first come to Boston, he had joined forces with Nico to work with the police department. She had been a romantic sixteen, and he had been twenty-five and, to her, maddeningly attractive. Back then he had reminded her of a mountain lion, with his sandy hair, tawny gold eyes, and lean muscular body.

  As she had grown older, she had become more and more uncomfortable in his presence. Her skin seemed to grow more sensitive whenever he was near, more susceptible to heat, cold, and nerves. And now at age twenty-seven, she recognized the raw, primitive sexuality he possessed as the potent weapon it was. He was a man who could affect her as no other. Acting with caution whenever he was near had become second nature to her.

  "I don’t know how you can locate anything in here. It looks more like a female version of Aladdin’s cave than the office of a vice president of merchandising for Boston’s most exclusive department store.”

  His normal speaking voice had always sounded to her like a low, seductive, sexy blend of a purr and a growl. Unerringly it found nerves hidden deep inside her.

  With a quick gulp, she swallowed the last of the chocolate and surged to her feet. The faux pearls slid off the back of the chair to form an incandescent coil on the floor. “It’s jet lag. ”

  “I'm sure you’re right.”

  She saw no expression on his rugged face, but she could feel the power of his gaze on her. It seemed to linger a second too long on her breasts where the lace of her slip showed like a faint pattern through her white silk blouse. After that It followed the length of the long gold chains that circled her neck and fell over her breasts to her waist. Finally it traced the lines of her short violet leather skirt as it gloved the curve of her hips and the firmness of her thighs.

  She felt touched all over.

  Yet surely her imagination was working overtime. He had long ago made it clear, first by aloofness, then by his indifference, that he wasn’t interested in her, and it was ridiculous to let him throw her so off balance.

  She willed a return of her composure. “I meant that usually I know exactly where everything is. Believe it or not, there’s organization in my disorganization. ”

  “I believe you,” he said in his drawling purr. “Nico brags about you all the time. It’s obvious to everyone who knows you that you’ve worked hard to achieve your position here.”

  “It is?” she asked, stunned, not because of what had been said but because of who had said it. She was sure Amarillo didn’t think of her often enough to have any opinion whatsoever about her. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve never wanted anyone to be able to say that my position was given to me because my great-grandmother founded the store and my father is the current head.”

  “Do you really care what people think?”

  “I guess it depends on who the person is,” she said slowly, then realized she was staring too hard at him. “At any rate, I just returned from California yesterday, and I’m still a little out of sync.”

  "Too many hours in the sky can do that to you. ” So could being too near him, she thought, and decided to cut through the small talk. “What are you doing here, Amarillo?”

  A line deepened in the center of his brow. He didn’t like her question, she thought, but it was natural for her to ask. After all, he had never, ever sought her out. She had last seen him about a month before at a dinner party given by Caitlin and Nico. He had been with a blonde named Terri. She had been with Bob Worthing, an old friend from college. And, as usual, whenever she and Amarillo happened to be at the same function, he had treated her with a polite and definitely distant friendliness.

  But now he was here in her office, and she knew he rarely did anything without a purpose. Since he obviously didn’t intend to answer her question until he was ready, she indicated a George III open armchair in front of her desk. “Would you like to sit down? Those dresses—-just move them anywhere.”

  Amarillo scooped up an armful of gaily patterned dresses, deposited them on a couch, then brought his long-framed body down into the chair. “Your trip to California,” he said quietly after he was settled. “It was simply out and back, right?”

  “Yes. I pushed three days’ worth of meetings into one and flew home.” She paused. “How did you know it was a turnaround trip?” “Nico. He mentioned it last night when he called.”

  She nodded. “Where did he say they were going next? I can’t remember.”

  “They’re going to Rome. And he mentioned that you didn’t seem quite with it when you talked.” All at once she understood, and a smile touched her lips. “Ah, okay, now I know what you’re doing here. My big brother asked you to drop by and check up on me.”

  “If I was in the neighborhood ...”

  She arched her delicate brow, her skepticism clear. “Uh-huh. And DiFrenza’s was in your neighborhood?”

  “I needed a tie.”

  She had no idea where he shopped, but she knew it wasn’t DiFrenza’s. His style was strictly western, and DiFrenza’s was Boston traditional along with international high fashion. “I don’t see a package.”

  “I didn’t find anything I liked.”

  “I apologize. I’ll have to have a talk with my buyer of men’s wear.”

  “Instead of doing that, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  His voice was soft, low-pitched. She wondered why she felt he had given her an order.

  “There’s nothing wrong.”

  His gaze didn’t waver from her. She sighed. “Look, I don’t know what time it was in Athens when Nico called, but here in Boston it was midnight and I was almost asleep.”

  “Since when have you ever gone to bed before midnight?”

  “How do you know what time I go to bed?”

  A casual shrug sent the golden-brown material of his western-cut jacket shifting across his broad shoulders. “It’s a guess. Your social life seems too active for you to be getting much rest.”

  If she didn’t know better, she would think he had been keeping track of her. It was an interesting thought, but one in which she put absolutely no credence. “Well, you’re right. I don't often get to bed before midnight. But in this case, the trip had left me tired and with a bad case of jet lag. And when Nico called, he got a disoriented conversation from someone who badly needed sleep. Simple as that.”

  “Uh-huh. And did you get any sleep last night?” Something darted across her mind and then was gone. Troubled, she rubbed at her forehead. She’d had a dream last night—a bad dream—but this morning she hadn’t been able to remember what it had been about. “Yes, I slept. Some.” “Must have been one hell of a trip.”

  He rose and was around the desk before she had time to prepare herself. His nearness was as exciting as it seemed dangerous.

  He picked up the wastebasket and fished out four candy wrappers. “Breakfast and lunch?” “Candy is an excellent source of energy.”

  “So is a balanced meal and a good night’s rest.” He set the wastebasket down and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  The brooding intensity of his gaze had her spine tingling. Amarillo was not a womanizer, she knew, but Caitlin had once told her that women used the word fatal when speaking of him. Angelica had long understood how a woman could lose herself and her heart to him. Yet from what she had heard and seen, he never lost anything but Interest where a woman was concerned.

  “Come have lunch with me.”

  His astonishing request yanked her from her contemplation. She was sure few of his invitations were turned down. If the circumstances were right, she might . . . No. Besides, these definitely weren’t the right circumstances. He was here only because he was doing a favor for Nico, and she loathed the idea of being Amarillo’s charity case.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She waved a hand toward her desk. “I have too much work to do here, plus the charity ball at SwanSea is just around the comer. Since Caitlin is out of the country. I’m chairing the event.”

  As she spoke, Amarillo studied her carefully. Her dark brown hair shone with hea
lth and vibrancy, her skin glowed with its usual luminosity, her brown eyes still held that incredible velvet texture that could melt a man at fifty paces. She appeared perfectly normal. Nico must have reached her at a bad time, he concluded. Other than a mild case of exhaustion, Amarillo couldn’t detect anything that might be bothering her.

  Unlike he—who was bothered just by looking at her.

  “I read the writeup in the paper last week about the ball and your part in it. Nice picture, by the way.”

  She grimaced. She did not enjoy her picture appearing in the papers, though she realized she differed from most people In that respect. “Thanks. Anyway, as soon as I can get things under control here, I’ll be driving up to SwanSea.”

  Why did he feel so disappointed that there was nothing wrong? Amarillo wondered, glancing restlessly around the office. The clutter made a perfect setting for her. Silks and satins. High-heeled shoes and pearls. Warm, feminine, mind-destroy-ingly sexy. “How long do you think it will take to wind things up?”

  “Not long now that I’m back. I’ve nearly cleared my desk as it is.”

  “You have a unique way of working.”

  She shrugged, determined not to be swayecLby the hint of humor she heard threading through his tone. Nothing changed the fact that he was there as a favor to Nico. “I suppose I do, but the main thing is I get results. I’m really sorry, Amarillo. Lunch is out of the question.”

  “No problem. Well have dinner.”

  Despite her intention to keep this sudden new attention of his in perspective, a spurt of excitement shot into her bloodstream. He wasn’t going to let the matter drop. She drew a deep breath and tried again. “It’s very nice of you to come check on me for Nico, but you don’t have to ask me out. As you can see for yourself, I’m fine.” “I’m glad to hear it, but I’m still asking.” He had no idea why he was being so persistent, he reflected with annoyance. He had meant only to drop by, stay a minute or two, then leave. Last night when Nico had called him, he had wanted to go to her immediately. The urge had puzzled him. Nico hadn’t sounded alarmed, just mildly concerned. Still, he reasoned, Nico trusted him to take care of everything while he and Caitlin were gone, and if that included keeping an eye on Nico’s kid sister, so be it. “If you come, I promise you chocolate.”