by Metsy Hingle
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Because I can see and sense things that are going to happen or have happened to other people, but I can’t see anything about my own past.”
Jack couldn’t help but admire her, how brave she was, what she had done with her life. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult her childhood had been—a stark contrast to the comfort and security of his own. It also worried him that there was a blood link between her and a killer. “You know, there’s been a lot of technology since you were a kid. You might have more luck now. And my being a cop gives me access to a lot of resources. I could help you.”
She lifted her head, looked at him with that wariness creeping back into her eyes. “And while you’re helping me, you might also find your killer.”
“All right, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind. It did. But that’s not the reason I offered to help. I offered because you’ve begun to matter to me. You’ve begun to matter a lot.”
“I told you I’m not good at relationships,” she said quietly, and he could already sense her pulling back—emotionally, physically. “I come with too many complications. We’re both better off not getting involved.”
“I’ve got a news flash for you,” he said, annoyed by her dismissal. “We’re already involved.”
She stood. “Thank you for dinner, but I’d like to go back to my hotel now, please.”
That cool politeness swiped at him, sparked his temper. He retrieved her coat. “Just so you know, Kelly, I’m going to find Gilbert’s killer—which means I’m probably going to be digging into your past, with or without your approval. If you want me to share what I find with you, I will. If you don’t, that’s all right, too.”
“Is that all, Detective?”
“Not quite,” he said as he helped her put on her coat. Then he moved in close and said, “You should also know that I fully intend for us to get a lot more involved before this whole thing is over. I want you to think about that tonight when you’re lying in bed alone.”
Eleven
Kelly walked in the direction of the Callaghan mansion. She’d parked her rental car two blocks away, needing time and the cool November air to calm her. She’d had more than a few uneasy hours since that DNA test and it seemed she couldn’t close her eyes now without dreaming. And while she knew the answer to her questions and the nightmare were buried somewhere in her past, she was reluctant to open that door. Having Jack inform her that he intended to go digging around in her past had done nothing to ease her anxieties. Nor had his parting comment.
“You should also know, I fully intend for us to get a lot more involved before this whole thing is over. I want you to think about that tonight when you’re lying in bed alone.”
She wasn’t sure which disturbed her the most—the idea of Jack poking around in her past, or knowing that she was a breath away from becoming his lover. Blast you, Jack Callaghan, she thought as his words continued to echo in her head. He was not the reason she’d come tonight, she reminded herself as she continued down the sidewalk. She’d come because Mrs. Callaghan had told her that other friends of Sister Grace’s would be there, friends whom she was hoping might provide her with a clue that would lead to the nun’s killer.
But once she reached the Callaghan estate, apprehension knotted her stomach again. The place was ablaze with lights. Valets raced to park cars for arriving guests. Elegantly dressed men and women strolled up the steps to the doorway. The place was magnificent, just as she remembered it, Kelly thought. The stately columns and galleries. The beveled glass at the entrance door that opened into a foyer where she could see the glow of a chandelier. The lush gardens with roses blooming and the scent of sweet olive. Even in November with a nip in the air, the lawn remained a thick carpet of green. Majestic oaks stood like sentinels about the grounds, their leaves rustling in the night breeze. At the sounds of laughter and music, she glanced toward the rear and could make out twinkling lights that had been strung through the trees. A beautiful, magical place, she mused.
How many times had she walked by here as a girl, caught a glimpse of the family through the windows and imagined what it would be like to be one of them? How many times had she strolled by on a night much like this one, heard the music and laughter coming from inside and wished she was welcome?
Suddenly she recalled the invitation to Meredith’s graduation party. Everyone in the class had received one—including her. And while she’d been tempted to attend, had even bought a new dress to wear, she’d ended up declining at the last minute. She hadn’t belonged, she reminded herself.
Tonight was different. She wasn’t a penniless orphan anymore. She was a successful photographer—thanks in great measure to Sister Grace. And it was for Sister Grace that she had come. Straightening her shoulders, Kelly marched through the gates, determined to find answers. And she ran straight into Jack.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” he asked, catching her by the arm when she swayed in her high heels.
“Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” she said, cursing herself ten times over for wearing the ridiculous shoes.
“No problem.”
She hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped her off at her hotel the previous evening. Nor had she responded to the messages he’d left for her since then. While a part of her had known she was being a coward, another part of her had felt it was a matter of self-preservation. She didn’t like the feelings Jack had stirred inside her. Feelings that were stirring inside her again now. “You can let go of me now.”
He released her arm, but made no attempt to move out of her path. “Why don’t I escort you inside.”
“I think I can manage on my own.”
“Then keep me company,” he said, flashing her a smile. “Otherwise, I might fall asleep.”
Kelly arched her brow. “You don’t strike me as the type who falls asleep at parties.”
“Spoken like a woman who’s never found herself trapped at some boring society party. Although my mother swore that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those stuffy affairs, you never know.”
“It doesn’t sound stuffy to me,” she said honestly. From the laughter and music and number of people milling about, it sounded like a fun party.
“Why don’t we go inside and find out?” Cupping her elbow, he steered her in the direction of the house. “We’ll pay our respects to my mother, see what Tilly’s cooked up for the event and, if we’re bored silly, then we’ll leave.”
He maneuvered her so smoothly that Kelly found herself exchanging greetings and introductions and brushing elbows with several dozen people before she even had a chance to protest. Or perhaps she hadn’t protested because deep down inside she had wanted to be with Jack.
“Not exactly the intimate little gathering my mother promised, is it?” he asked.
“No, but it’s lovely all the same.” And it was lovely, she conceded. Mrs. Callaghan was gracious and welcoming, as were her friends. Everyone had nothing but good things to say about Sister Grace. But after the first hour, she still hadn’t come up with anything that might give her a clue as to who had killed the nun.
“When you didn’t return my calls, I was worried you wouldn’t come tonight. I’m glad you did,” Jack said to her later.
“I phoned your mother to say I couldn’t make it, but she was so gracious, I didn’t know how to refuse her.”
Jack chuckled. “That’s my mom. She should have run for Congress. She’d have had those hard-nosed politicians eating right out of her hand.”
“After watching her tonight, I’d have to agree. She’s charming. You’re all very lucky to have her for a mother.”
“I think so, too. At least most of the time,” he remarked, and Kelly didn’t miss his unhappy expression as he spied his mother speaking with a striking blonde in a white cocktail dress.
“Who is she?” Kelly asked.
“Who?”
“The woman with your mother.”
�
��Her name’s Alicia Van Owen. She’s the real estate agent I told you about. The one who found my house. Her mother and my mother were friends in college.”
“She’s stunning.” And Kelly suspected that Alicia and Jack had been more than acquaintances whose paths had crossed in business.
“So are you. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
Kelly’s pulse jumped at the heat she read in his eyes. He drew his fingertip down her arm, sending a shiver of longing through her. “Jack, don’t. I meant what I said last night.”
“So did I. You matter to me and I’m not going to go away.” And before she could respond, he motioned for the waiter and swiped an hors d’oeuvre from a passing tray. “These are Tilly’s crabmeat-stuffed mushrooms. You’ve got to try one,” he said, and held one up to her lips.
As she bit into the tasty tidbit, Jack’s eyes darkened, making her stomach quiver. Kelly swallowed. “It’s delicious,” she said, barely able to get the words past her lips.
“Yes, it is.”
In an effort to calm the desire humming in her veins, she reached for the wineglass she’d set on the table and drained it. When she looked at Jack again, she noted the direction of his gaze and spied Meredith disappearing outdoors into the gardens.
“Are you worried about your sister?”
“A little.” Jack said, then turned his attention back to her. He finished off the canapé, wiped his fingers on a napkin. “She’s put a lot of herself into getting this shop of hers off the ground.”
“Yes, she mentioned it. She seems very excited about it.”
“She is. She really wants it to work. So do I.”
“Don’t you think she’ll be successful?” Kelly asked.
“God knows I want her to be. But retail is a tough business. Half the shops don’t make it.”
“And you’re worried that if it fails, that Meredith will give up on herself,” Kelly said, picking up on his concerns about his sister. Appalled by what she’d just done, she told him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Do what?”
“To intrude on your thoughts that way. It was terribly rude of me.”
“It’s no big deal. Besides, what you said is true. I am worried about her. My sister talks a good game and pretends this is all just a lark. But it isn’t. She’s got her heart wrapped up in making a go of it. It matters to her. So it matters to me.”
As he spoke, Kelly’s own heart softened. He loved his younger sister, was protective of her, worried about her happiness. That knowledge made it impossible for her own feelings not to deepen for him.
He looked at the empty glass in his hand. “I’m going to get me another drink. Would you like another glass of wine?”
“Maybe just some water.”
“I’ll be right back,” he told her.
And while Jack got waylaid on his way to the bar, she decided it was time to do some more investigating. So she went in search of her hostess.
Alex told himself he hadn’t come outside to look for Meredith. He’d come out onto the veranda for a breath of fresh air. Despite how far he’d come from the roach-infested apartment he’d grown up in and the boy he’d been, he still felt like an outsider at these society shindigs. He’d only come tonight for Mrs. Callaghan and for Jack. He hadn’t come because of Meredith, he assured himself.
Yet as he scanned the gardens, it was for Meredith that he searched. He heard her laughter moments before he saw her. She emerged from the northern corner of the gardens with her arm tucked through the arm of some guy he’d been introduced to as the son of a family friend. When the man leaned closer and said something to her, jealousy ripped through him with the force of a hurricane wind. Something primal and dark and ugly inside him made him want to drag Meredith away from the other man and stake his claim.
Only she wasn’t his to claim, he reminded himself. That’s why he’d told her it was over between them and had turned her away when she’d come to his office that last time. He’d told her that she needed to move on. And from all indications, she was taking him at his word. She hadn’t called him or come by to see him again. She’d barely said two words to him since he’d arrived at the party.
So why in the hell did he feel like punching something?
Turning away from the sight of Meredith with another man, he walked over to the other side of the veranda. He jammed a fist through his hair, struggled to get a grip on his emotions as he heard the click of high heels approach from behind him.
“Looking for me?”
Alex flicked a glance back in Meredith’s direction. “Nope. Just wanted to get some air. Where’s your friend?”
“Trent?” She joined him by the railing, turned and leaned her back against it. “He went back to the party.”
“As cozy as you two looked a few minutes ago, I’m surprised you didn’t go with him.”
“I thought it might be more fun to annoy you,” she teased.
“I’m not in the mood for your games, Meredith.”
“You used to like my games,” she reminded him.
A flurry of memories of some of the games they’d engaged in over the years made him ache inside. Determined not to give in, he said, “I guess I’ve outgrown them.”
“And me, too?”
At the hurt in her voice, he softened. “You know I care about you. I always will, but—”
“Don’t,” she said, and held up a hand. “I can do without another lecture on why I need to move on with my life. In case you haven’t noticed, Alex, I have moved on.”
“That’s good,” he said, wanting to mean it. But before he could stop himself, he asked, “You moving on with that fellow Trent?”
“Maybe. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
“You’re right, it isn’t. Forget I asked.”
Anger snapped in her green eyes. “Fine. I’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”
When she started to move away, he grabbed her by the wrist. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m through wasting my time waiting for you to ask me to marry you. Just because you don’t want me, doesn’t mean that someone else doesn’t.”
Anger pumped through his veins. “So you’re going to run off and marry the first guy you come across to get even with me?”
“If I marry Trent or anyone else, it’ll be because I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“Is that right? Then how come you tried your damnedest to get me into bed a week ago?”
“As I recall, you weren’t interested. Trent, on the other hand, is.”
“I just bet he is. The problem with you, Meredith, is that you’re used to getting everything you want. What you need is a man you can’t wrap around your little finger.”
She tiptoed those fingers along the sleeve of his jacket, leaned closer. “You mean someone like you, Alex?”
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
She winced as though he’d struck her. And because he couldn’t bare to see her hurting, he hauled her up against him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she murmured against his neck.
After a moment, he eased her from him. Tipping up her chin with his finger, he looked down into her eyes. “Promise me you’re not going to go do something stupid like marrying a guy you don’t love to spite me.”
Something died in her eyes. “You know, Alex Kusak, for a smart man, sometimes you can be real stupid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back to the party.”
As she walked away from him and disappeared indoors, Alex gripped the railing tightly to keep himself from going after her. He was doing the right thing, the honorable thing by letting her go, he told himself.
But sometimes being honorable really sucked.
“Kelly,” Mrs. Callaghan beckoned as Kelly deliberately brought herself into Jack’s mother’s line of vision. “Come, dear. I’d lik
e you to meet my very dear friend Mildred St. Amant. Mildred, this lovely creature is Kelly Santos. She’s the young woman I was telling you about. Kelly used to live at St. Ann’s and is now a successful photographer in New York. Mildred is the chairman of St. Ann’s Guild,” she explained, naming one of the organizations devoted to raising funds for the orphanage.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Mrs. St. Amant told her. “I understand from Mary Ellen that you were at St. Ann’s when Sister Grace was still there.”
“Yes, I was,” Kelly responded, pleased that her instincts had been right to seek out Mrs. Callaghan. “Did you know Sister Grace well?”
“Oh, yes. She was such a wonderful person, and for her to go so suddenly the way she did…I swear, I still can’t believe she’s gone. She touched so many lives, did so many good works.”
“Yes, she did,” Kelly said. “I imagine her sudden death affected a great many people.”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. St. Amant assured her, and proceeded to name several things that Sister Grace had been involved with at the time of her death. “And of course there’s the annual benefit for St. Ann’s,” the woman continued. “This year’s benefit certainly won’t be the same without her. She was the driving force behind it, you know.”
“Mildred is right,” Mrs. Callaghan added. “Kelly, dear, this is absolutely horrid of me to ask when you’re a guest in my home, but Jack tells me that you’re an accomplished photographer in your own right and have a splendid collection of photos.”
“Well, I’m not sure how splendid they are,” she said, wondering what had possessed Jack to tell his mother about her work—especially when all he’d seen were a few shots that she’d stuck in her bag before she’d left New York. “But yes, I’ve done a series of New York after 9/11 that have been published, as well a few others. My agent’s shopping a series of my prints now for a book deal.”
Mrs. Callaghan beamed and exchanged a look with the other woman. “Well, Mildred and I are in charge of the silent auction at this year’s benefit for St. Ann’s. And we were hoping we could persuade you to donate one of your pictures for the auction.”