Operation: Reunited

by Linda O. Johnston

  That man was driving her nuts, and she didn’t even know him. Didn’t want to know him.

  And damn his sexy hide…he still somehow reminded her of Cole.

  She untied Phantom. Together they returned to her kitchen. She shut him behind the gate again and took a deep breath. She had a lot to do and not much time to do it. Still…

  Perversely, Alexa checked her freezer and drew out a package. She’d decided to add crabmeat dijonnaise to the toppings guests could put on their potatoes. She would watch John, see how much he enjoyed it.

  And if he avoided it? So what? It wouldn’t mean anything.

  But Cole Rappaport had been allergic to crabmeat.

  “GREAT DINNER,” Cole told Alexa as he stood at the long oak sideboard in the filled dining room.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” She appeared a little nervous as she surveyed the crowd of seated guests. This evening, she wasn’t wearing an apron over her long, forest-green dress. The knit dress itself was shapeless, but it announced that Alexa had a shape beneath it—a very sexy, very female shape.

  Vane was eyeing them from the table with the three male guests Cole had first seen him with. Otherwise, would Cole have dared to edge up closer to Alexa, bask in the warmth from her body—feel those delicious curves against him?

  Of course not. He was thinking again with his libido and not with his mind.

  Remember what she’s done, he told himself. Why you’re here.

  He’d figured, with her feigned nervousness, that Alexa had again assumed the role of innocent bystander, or victim. To get her to divulge something helpful, Cole was playing along.

  Or was it that he hoped her innocence really wasn’t an act?

  If so, he was a fool for the second time.

  Trying to pay attention to his meal, Cole took a baked potato. He heaped crabmeat topping onto it, along with crumbled cheese.

  Though Alexa had blurted out that first day that John O’Rourke reminded her of Cole, he didn’t believe she still thought they could be one and the same. And yet…could this be a test?

  He put a dinner roll on the side of his plate.

  If he refused the crabmeat or grew violently sick to his stomach after eating it, Alexa would become even more suspicious.

  He had accidentally eaten some at the dining room at the Kenner Santa Monica Hotel when he had first met her. She had seen him bolt to the rest room, had helped him to his room at the hotel afterward when, pale and shaky, he could barely stand.

  Fortunately, he had discovered a medicine in the past two years that prevented such reactions. Equally fortunate, he had remembered to take his daily pill.

  “Can I serve you something else?” Alexa asked him. “More salad?” He couldn’t read her expression—quizzical? Taunting? Regretful?

  “Yes. Please.” He watched as she bent to use the tongs to add a heaping serving of salad to his dish…the way that damn dress outlined every curve. She was so close to him….

  He inhaled the soft essence of citrus above the stronger aroma of the food.

  He turned away as soon as she was finished—and caught Minos’s eye. The other man scowled and looked away.

  After Cole’s encounter earlier with Minos, he had been reminded to stay alert. That powerful little man had appeared to have more than housework on his mind. A lot more.

  And it didn’t involve becoming John O’Rourke’s best buddy.

  Tonight, Minos presided over one of the tables near the Fullers. Pretending to be oblivious to the other man’s hostile watchfulness, Cole headed in that direction.

  He hadn’t planned on sitting again with Ed and Jill Fuller, but both welcomed him to their table—even Ed. Did he have any idea that his wife had attempted to seduce Cole that very afternoon?

  Jill wore a skimpy red dress that night. Her ample cleavage was very much in evidence, especially as she made a point of reaching for the salt and pepper.

  Her overt display wasn’t half as sexy as Alexa’s assets merely suggested by her outfit.

  A hum of conversation from the other seven tables filled the room. “I hope you’re feeling better this evening,” Cole said to Jill.

  Irritation swept over her attractive and exotic features, but disappeared quickly. “I was just tired,” she said. “I went to bed when I came back here.” Her dark eyes flashed, as if reminding him he could have joined her.

  Ed was dressed in a cotton shirt in a shade of brown that complemented his swarthy features. He seemed oblivious to the interplay fomented by his wife.

  Or was her flirtation related to their purpose in being here? Was she rehearsing for a performance yet to come?

  “So where are you going after you leave here?” Cole asked. “Home to—er, Bolivia? Or are you touring more of the States?”

  “We will see more here,” Ed said.

  “Really? Where? I’m thinking of spending more time on the road before going home. Maybe I could join you.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Jill, at the same time Ed said, “I do not think so.”

  Cole laughed. “Well, tell me where, so I can be sure either to tag along or avoid it.” Not that he expected his answers to come so easily.

  The Fullers looked at one another. Ed’s expression was angry; Jill appeared chastised. Neither spoke. Instead, they glanced toward Vane.

  Dressed in slacks and sport coat for dinner, their host now stood near the sideboard, beside Alexa. Didn’t she ever get to eat?

  Maybe she didn’t want to eat here, with her guests.

  Vane must have caught the Fullers’ gazes, for, with an arm around Alexa, he maneuvered them toward the table occupied by Cole and his companions. “How are you enjoying your dinner tonight?” Vane asked jovially, as if he had had something to do with cooking it.

  “It is quite good,” Jill said, taking a petite bite of salad.

  “Wonderful,” Cole said, giving an effusive John O’Rourke-style compliment.

  “My Alexa here is a great cook, isn’t she?” Vane hugged her tighter. Alexa’s smile was tepid. “She does everything well, don’t you, darling?” Vane turned her and gave her a long and sexy kiss.

  Cole watched as Alexa’s arm, nearly bare beneath her short-sleeved dress, stiffened at her side, her fists clenched.

  That damn diamond ring seemed to sparkle expressly to torment Cole.

  Vane drew her even closer, nibbling at her ear—or was he whispering words of love to her? Her stiffness seemed to vanish, and she hugged him back.

  Cole was even more glad he had taken his medicine. Otherwise, this sweet little love scene would have made him sick to his stomach.

  When they finally drew apart, some of the inn’s guests broke into applause.

  Alexa’s lovely cheeks turned pink. She bowed her head in what appeared to be shy embarrassment and left the room.

  That night, Cole did not attempt to help Alexa with the dishes. He sat with the other guests as, once again, they tried to guess the answers on the TV quiz show.

  This time, he did not participate.

  Much later, when he couldn’t sleep, he considered going once more to the quiet, picturesque balcony overlooking the moonlight-bathed water.

  Would Alexa be there?

  He had learned to ignore the myriad aches that remained as a reminder of the explosion that had nearly killed him. But now, as he lay in bed, they were accompanied by other aches, like the one in his groin as he thought of Alexa.

  Yet the sharper pain, as he remembered the kiss she had shared with Vane, wasn’t physical.

  He turned over and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Six

  The rain was only a heavy midnight mist. The wind that accompanied it was more brutal, whipping the surface of the lake, frothing it at the dimly lit shoreline. Alexa’s boat rocked beside the dock, which creaked in protest at the disturbance.

  The whistle of the wind, combined with the soft patter of rain on the rustling leaves, crescendoed in Alexa’s ears, adding to her despair.


  Standing by the balcony railing, she hugged her long, quilted floral robe about her. But it wasn’t the rain and the unremitting wind off the lake that chilled her so profoundly.

  “How can I do this?” she whispered to Phantom, who lay at her feet. He whined in response, clearly sensing her malaise, though the pup had no answer.

  But she had her own answer. She could do it because she had to. She would continue to act out the charade with Vane, because he had given her no choice—for now.

  He had reiterated his threats concisely into her ear during that little scene at dinner. As a result, she’d had to pretend gaiety. She’d had to pretend to respond to him.

  Her skin still stung from the scrubbing she had given herself in the privacy of her shower this evening.

  She couldn’t even fantasize any longer that John was Cole incarnate. He’d dug right in to the crabmeat at supper. Later, he had watched TV with the group for a while, and although he was unusually quiet, he hadn’t appeared to suffer from an allergic reaction.

  He wasn’t Cole. Cole was dead.

  “Alexa?”

  She whirled at the sound of the masculine voice. But it was not the one she had hoped to hear. Vane stood just outside the sliding glass door to the hallway. He was still dressed in the same trousers and jacket he’d had on at dinner.

  She didn’t say anything, but returned her gaze to the bleakness of the vista before her. Phantom, who had also risen at the voice, sat at attention, leaning on her leg.

  In a moment, Vane’s shoulder touched hers on the opposite side from where Phantom sat. She steeled herself not to pull away.

  “Miserable night,” he said. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Enjoying the view.” It fits my mood.

  “I wanted to let you know I’m going down the mountain tomorrow for the day. Minos will be around here, though he has some errands to run.”

  “Okay.” She kept her tone neutral—though inside she wanted to rejoice for the respite. But not enough of a respite. She couldn’t count on being alone at the inn for any period of time.

  “You’ll be here when I get back.” It wasn’t a question but a command.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She doubted he heard her unenthusiastic response over the whipping wind, but didn’t care.

  He grabbed her hand as it rested on the damp railing, and squeezed it. “I said, you’ll be here. If you aren’t, all I have to do is—”

  She yanked her hand away and faced him, her shoulders stiff. “Show your damn file to your damn government friends in high places,” she spat. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. They’ll believe you, not me.”

  He was the one with connections. Her parents were alleged terrorist conspirators. Never mind that he had manufactured the evidence against them. It looked real, and it could put her parents—and possibly her—away for life.

  How could she have been so gullible? Two years ago, when her parents had been accused of conspiracy in the concealment of terrorists at the Kenner Hotels, Vane had stuck up for them. Claimed there wasn’t enough evidence against them. Convinced the authorities to drop their investigation of the Kenners.

  With nothing new to report, the media quickly lost interest. Alexa’s parents decided to scale down, sell all but one of their hotels, get on with their lives.

  She did, too. And when Vane suggested a partnership, she had jumped at it.

  How was she to know that this inn was to be a front? Or that he had forged damaging, and very real-looking, documents, creating a handy file to tie her parents to the terrorist conspiracy. He was now ready to “find” it if at any time she didn’t do as he said. Because deaths had resulted from the alleged conspiracy—Cole’s and hotel manager Warren Geari’s—she couldn’t even count on a statute of limitations to protect her parents.

  “Yes,” she continued icily, “I will be here.” She paused, feeling her chest heave in fury. “Besides, this is my inn. I won’t leave it because I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

  That was a lie. As much as she hated to, she would leave it, when she could. To survive.

  Once again, she turned to face the lake. The rain fell more heavily now, as if the heavens wept in sympathy for her plight. But she knew better. No one knew and no one cared what happened to her—not the heavens or anyone else.

  She would handle this alone. Somehow.

  “I’m sorry, Alexa,” Vane said, his voice audible over the wind. He had come closer again but was not touching her. “You know I really love you, don’t you? I have for a long time. But there are things going on, things you don’t understand. It’ll all be over soon, I promise. When it is, we’ll travel, anywhere you want. We’ll have money and power and—” He stopped abruptly, as if he had said too much.

  He didn’t love her. He was obsessed. Still, this could be an opportunity to learn something important. Inhaling deeply to marshal her wiles, Alexa turned toward him. He had hunched his shoulders, but the rain still dampened his deceptively guileless face.

  “That would be nice, Vane. I would like to get away for a little while. But without real, paying guests, how can we afford to?” The inn’s income right now consisted of what she was charging John.

  “Oh, they’ll pay off, my darling. Don’t you worry.” There was something ruthless in his smile. At the moment, he no longer looked like the boyish man who had, she believed, come to her rescue two years ago, but more like the devil in disguise.

  As he always had been.

  “Please tell me what this is all about,” she begged. “I want to understand. Maybe I can even help.” When the Pacific flows upward into Skytop Lake, she thought. Whatever the plot he was involved with, she wanted no part of it. But if he thought she did…

  “I can’t tell you now, Alexa. It’s too sensitive. I’m part of a greater system. I report to others, and if I were to reveal any of it now, I’d be— Never mind. When the time comes, you’ll know what it was and how I helped implement it.” There was a radiance in his eyes that hinted of madness.

  She hid her shudder in a smile. “I wish you’d trust me, Vane.”

  “I would if I could,” he said. “But it’s too dangerous.”

  For a moment, something resembling sadness shadowed his face, and she focused on the growing abundance of lines she saw there. He seemed to be aging before her eyes. She could almost feel sorry for him.

  Almost.

  But he wasn’t going to talk, damn it. He’d known what was happening from the first. He had the information that Cole had died attempting to get. And there was nothing she could do to extract it.

  “It’s raining harder, Alexa,” he said. “Let’s go in.”

  “All right.” She could be miserable in the solitude of her own room just as well as out here in the dampness.

  Phantom accompanied her to the sliding glass door to her room.

  So did Vane. “Can I come in?” he asked.

  She felt fury flood her as her eyes opened wide. She knew what he was asking. No, she wanted to shout. Don’t even think of touching me, ever again. She couldn’t bear it.

  But she forced herself to remain silent as she pretended, for a moment, to consider it. Her body trembled, not with lust, but with the effort of hiding her anger.

  You son of a bitch. The words nearly burst from her.

  There had been a time, when they had first moved here together, that she had given in to his urging. She hadn’t cared much what happened to her, and he had, she’d believed, been kind to her. To her parents. She had even agreed, out of gratitude, to their engagement.

  She had always felt detached from their lovemaking, although at times the warmth and nearness of another body had felt welcome.

  She would never again feel the passion she had shared with Cole. That was a given.

  Cole was gone.

  And now she knew that the reason he’d died involved Vane and his plotting.

  Share her body again with Cole’s killer?

  Masking her icy rag
e, she turned back toward Vane. His expression was heated, beseeching, and she had an urge to rake her nails down his face. Alexa had never before had such a strong instinct for violence.

  “I’m sorry, Vane,” she forced herself to say calmly. “I just can’t right now.”

  His pleading, hopeful expression vanished, replaced by fury. “Fine. Not tonight. But I’m setting our wedding date, Alexa—and soon. I just need to check into a few things, then I’ll tell you. I’ve had enough of your putting it off. We’re engaged, and we will get married within the next couple of months, I promise you.”

  Couple of months? “And I’ve had enough of your threats,” she dared to retort. “How can any marriage be based on lies and coercion and—”

  She stopped herself. She’d been about to say “hate.” But if she did, she might never be able to go back.

  Might even sign her parents’—and her own—arrest warrants.

  “—and fear,” she finished.

  His angry gaze did not waver. He did not attempt to soothe her. Apparently, he wanted her to fear him.

  She shook her head sadly. “I don’t understand you, Vane. Go ahead. Set the damn wedding date.”

  Before he could respond, she hurried into her room, Phantom right behind her. She slid the door shut and lowered the miniblinds.

  For a moment, she just stood there. And then she knelt on the floor, hugging Phantom as she cried.

  PERHAPS AN OUTING—THIS outing—was another small rebellion. But one necessary to Alexa’s self-esteem. And her sanity. She had to get away, if only briefly. If she’d been able to count on a long enough window of opportunity alone at the inn to accomplish something, she’d have hung around, taken advantage. But she couldn’t.

  Puttering in the kitchen the next morning, she planned the day with a bittersweet smile on her face.

  She had seen Vane off after breakfast. Minos, too—though she knew he’d be back soon. They each drove one of the SUVs. Most of the inn’s guests rode with them, though Alexa had heard that Minos was going to drop his riders off somewhere to shop.

  “We’re going to have a great time,” she told Phantom. The pup stood up from under a counter and wagged his tail.