BRINGING BENJY HOME

by Kylie Brant

  "Success?" Mac asked.

  Trey nodded. "The detective agreed to alert the Massachusetts State Police immediately."

  "So we should know in a matter of hours whether Jaida can be of some real help to us."

  Trey corrected him. "All we're doing is calling her bluff. In a matter of hours we'll prove that she's the phony I've always known she'd be. And then we'll still have a kidnapper to track."

  * * *

  The sedative that Trey had badgered his sister into taking had her sleeping well into the morning. Jaida seemed to be sleeping just as soundly. Trey sipped at what seemed to be his thousandth cup of coffee and contemplated the picture she made, curled up like a child under a blanket Raine must have provided. He'd never known another woman to wear her hair that color, so pale a blond that it looked like white gold. But it provided a sharp contrast to her dark lashes and brows, so perhaps that was why she'd chosen it, he thought cynically. Some women went to great lengths to draw attention to themselves.

  Not that he had anything against women. When he had the time for it, his social life was as active and full as any man could hope for. He was able to don the mask of charming host at will, and there was never any shortage of women who were willing to accept what he could offer them. More were intrigued than put off by his candor when he informed them that he was not in the market for a lasting relationship. The women he chose either never realized how little of himself he was willing to share or they didn't care.

  Had he met Jaida West at another time, he might have given her a second look, but he wouldn't have pursued her. He preferred his partners sophisticated, poised and as in control of their emotions as he was. From what he'd observed of her so far, this woman never had an unspoken thought. She'd also been alarmingly easy to rouse to emotion. She'd spit anger at him several times already in the past twenty hours or so.

  He wondered what other emotions would be easy to rouse in her.

  Frowning slightly, he banished the wayward thought. It was time to start planning for Jaida's return to Arkansas, but first he'd make her aware of the foolish mistake she'd made by attempting to hoax Trey's family. She'd committed a strategical error by concocting a story that could be so easily checked out.

  He stared at the long hair that trailed like a ribbon of blond silk over her shoulders. He felt nothing but contempt for people like Jaida West, who would take advantage of a mother's grief to make a buck. He'd met his share of con artists before, some of them women, but he had to admit that he'd never before felt this compulsion to watch any of them as they slept.

  Jaida's eyes flickered open; she woke as she always did, slowly and reluctantly. It didn't seem strange to her sleep-laden mind that her first sight was Trey. It was a logical continuation of her final mental image last night to see him standing there as unyielding as an oak, watching her with his impenetrable gaze. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her so steadily, his mysterious eyes giving nothing away. What had happened to the man to make him guard his emotions so closely, to build that wall of reserve that only a few were allowed to scale?

  "You must have fallen asleep before you ate last night." He indicated a plate of sandwiches on the table before her. Raine had covered them neatly with clear plastic wrap so that Jaida could help herself if she awoke during the night.

  For the first time Jaida realized exactly how she must look after sleeping in her clothes. She sat up, one hand attempting to smooth the hair away from her face. He appeared as unruffled as always, although she doubted he'd slept much, if at all. He'd already showered and changed. Although more casually dressed than yesterday, he looked crisp and polished. She was sure she appeared as though she'd spent the past few hours in a clothes dryer. Her mouth felt as if someone had driven a gravel truck through it, and she would have given her right arm for her toothbrush. Her suitcase had been deposited next to the couch, and she eyed it longingly.

  "What have you found out about the motel?" she inquired tentatively.

  Sheets of ice appeared in his eyes, and inwardly she sighed. Whatever he'd discovered hadn't improved his opinion of her; that was apparent. And though she felt much more capable of dealing with him today than she had last night, a shower and a change of clothes would go a long way in boosting her confidence still further.

  She tensed as he unexpectedly approached the couch. And when he sat down next to her, all her senses sprang to attention. She damned the involuntary reaction, forcing herself to remain still, when her first inclination was to shrink into the corner of the sofa.

  "The motel … um…" Her voice faltered as he lifted a section of her hair from where it lay across the back cushion. Thought momentarily deserted her as he rubbed the strand between his thumb and forefinger. Her voice was breathless when she finally found it again. "Have you uncovered anything yet?"

  "We're working on it," he murmured. He didn't look at her, his attention seemingly snared by the rhythmic motion of his fingers. "Where did you say the motel was located?"

  Her gaze followed his and she had trouble formulating an answer.

  "Highway 128." The words sounded strangled to her own ears.

  "You said that," he agreed, gazing at his hand fascinatedly as he slowly wrapped the blond strands around his index finger. "But what city is it near?"

  "City?" she whispered blankly, her eyes never straying from his hand. With each movement, more of his finger disappeared under the blond wrapping. Each rhythmic twist sent a corresponding tingle to her scalp.

  Swallowing hard, Jaida watched until his finger was covered from base to tip as if with a blond ribbon. Then his thumb rose to stroke the strands gently. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she was dimly aware that she'd lost track of the conversation. With physical effort she forced her gaze to his face. His thick, dark lashes were lowered, his eyes still trained on the action of his hand. Concentrating fiercely, she picked up the direction of their earlier words. "I don't know. About the city, I mean. I couldn't tell…"

  His lashes swept upward and suddenly she was staring directly into his eyes. She abruptly forgot what she'd been saying. She'd seen his eyes icy, skeptical and sardonic by turn, but right now they were devoid of those emotions. For the first time since she'd met him she didn't sense the familiar shield he used to keep the rest of the world at bay. That didn't mean, however, that he was any easier to read. She still wasn't able to recognize the light shining from those green orbs, but it filled the pit of her stomach with an undeniable heat.

  "Surely you have an idea, though."

  At those softly uttered words, her gaze fell to his mouth.

  He continued in the same dulcet tone. "We need to know where to focus our search. If you could just give us a bit more information, we could use it to help Benjy."

  The meaning of his words was lost for long moments as she watched his mouth form them. His well-shaped lips barely moved as he spoke, but each word uttered deepened the cleft in his chin. Those lips seemed much too close to her own.

  "I'm sorry," she responded helplessly. "I don't know…"

  The phone jangled then, breaking the spell that had shrouded them. Trey went still. A moment later Mac appeared in the doorway.

  "State police," he said tersely. His eyes flicked over Trey and Jaida, taking in their proximity on the couch, then settling on the pale strands still trapped between his partner's thumb and forefinger.

  Trey disentangled his finger from its silken bonds and rose with swift, sure grace. He reached for the receiver in Mac's outstretched hand and walked back into the kitchen.

  Jaida took a deep breath and sank against the back cushions of the couch. She felt as though she'd just been released from a magnetically charged field. The force of Trey's presence was enough to keep her nerves jumping; his nearness had short-circuited her brain. At last, the meaning of Mac's words sank in, and she looked at him.

  "Trey never got around to answering my question. Were you able to locate the motel from the information I gave you?"

/>   He seemed to weigh her words before answering. Apparently deciding there was no harm in responding, he said, "One of our men traced the motel. At least," he corrected himself, "he found one by that name on Highway 128."

  He turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving Jaida filled with relief. It wouldn't be long now. The fact that the state police were calling meant that they would already have something to report. Perhaps even now they were on their way to locating Lauren's son.

  The state police were calling. The thought lingered in Jaida's mind, until her relief was pushed aside by something else. If Trey had known which state police to alert, he'd undoubtedly known where the motel was located. Which meant he hadn't needed that information from her.

  Which meant he'd been testing her again.

  Her fist slammed into the cushion next to her. She wished with all her might that it was Trey taking the blow. Damn that man, anyway! She couldn't let her guard down around him; she'd known that. But there was no denying that if she had been hiding anything from him, he would have gotten that information from her a few minutes ago. She gave a mirthless laugh at the polished act she'd fallen for. He'd been so smooth, so … so damn human for once. And he'd reeled her in as easily as a spotted bass on a spinning rod.

  Her cheeks heated in remembrance of the scene. She was never at her best in the morning. Her mind didn't start functioning until her first two shots of caffeine, a shower and breakfast, in that order. She'd had none of those this morning. But she couldn't totally blame her gullibility on that lack. No, her real embarrassment stemmed from the fact that she'd wanted to believe him. She'd wanted to think he was coming to trust her and yes, dammit, that he was beginning to respond to her in some way.

  The knowledge filled her with self-recrimination and she gave her suitcase a childish kick. Immediately she winced, and bent to rub her bare toes. So she'd been stupid and naive. It certainly wasn't the first time. But she'd do her best to make sure it was the last, at least where Trey Garrison was concerned. Using her sight to find Benjy was going to be traumatic enough. She didn't need the kind of emotional damage Trey could inflict with the blink of an eye.

  She wished she knew what was going on in the kitchen as a result of that phone call, but darned if she was going to ask any more questions. Trey would have to come to her eventually. She knew that as certainly as she knew her name. And if needed, she'd help again, no matter what she thought of him and his tactics. Benjy Garrison was alone out there, snatched away from his mother and everyone who loved him. He was confused and scared and lonely, and she was going to help bring him home.

  But, she thought, bending to pick up her suitcase, her nature wasn't so forgiving that she relished spending any more time in Trey's presence. She started toward the bathroom, then stopped and turned an appraising eye on the plate of sandwiches. From the dealings she'd had with Trey Garrison so far, she knew she was going to need her strength.

  * * *

  After her shower, Jaida took her time in the bathroom. She interspersed drying her long, pale hair with taking bites from the mound of peanut-butter sandwiches on the plate. As she dressed in loose-fitting silk pants and matching top, she mentally calculated how long it had been since she'd last eaten. Much too long, she concluded, reaching for another sandwich. Her body burned calories at a rate that would baffle modern science. Normally she took pleasure in restocking at regular intervals. Yesterday's fast had been out of the ordinary for her, another sin she could lay at Trey's door.

  She looked in the mirror. She usually didn't bother with much makeup, finding the results garish with her unusual coloring. But today she'd used some concealer and a small amount of eye shadow. The concealer was to disguise the shadows beneath her eyes, attesting to the fact that she'd gotten much less than the twelve hours' sleep she preferred after one of her sessions. And the eye shadow was … well, because she needed every hint of fortitude she could muster to take on the man in the other room. To that end she'd put on her favorite outfit and a little highlighter. Somehow she knew her efforts would be woefully inadequate.

  She returned to the living room, placing her bag near the couch and the plate on the table. A moment later a prickle ran down her spine. Even as she slowly straightened, she knew whom she would see when she turned around.

  "Lauren is awake." Trey's voice was peremptory. "Do you want to join us in the kitchen?" She didn't even try to hide her irritation with him, he noted. She swept by him regally, leaving in her path the scent of perfume and shampoo. His nostrils flared in immediate masculine appreciation.

  In the kitchen, Mac lounged against the counter, his arms crossed around the front of his wife's waist, holding her against him. Lauren already had a cup of coffee sitting in front of Jaida, and they sat next to each other at the table. Trey stood facing them, his countenance grim. "After you lay down last night," he told Lauren, "Jaida gave us some information that helped lead us to a motel she claims Benjy was at."

  Jaida wondered if she was the only person in the room to hear the note of derision in Trey's voice as he imparted this information.

  Lauren gave a little gasp, her hand rising to her lips. She spoke not a word, but the hope on her face was easy to read.

  Trey's voice softened a little as he addressed his sister. "The state police were alerted, and they've searched the motel. There's no evidence he was there."

  "Have they questioned everybody?" Lauren demanded desperately. "Surely someone saw him."

  "The desk clerks have been questioned and they couldn't recall anyone traveling with a small child matching Benjy's description. Although," he added almost reluctantly, "they wouldn't necessarily have seen him. The rooms are accessed from doors that open onto the parking lot." That was as much of the conversation as he was willing to share with his sister. The night clerk had received a call complaining about a crying child, but he wasn't about to lay that one on Lauren.

  "You have to go there, Trey," Lauren said firmly, meeting her brother's startled gaze. "I won't be convinced unless you check this out yourself. No one can get information from people the way you can."

  His mouth flattened. "Honey, it's pointless. I told you, Benjy isn't there."

  "But he might have been." Lauren's eyes were bright, determined. "And if he was you may be able to figure out where he was taken." Her gaze slipped to the woman beside her. "If you take Jaida with you."

  Jaida's heart sank immediately at the words. Although she was committed to helping this family, the thought of additional travel with Trey was decidedly unappealing.

  "You'll go, won't you, Jaida?" Lauren pleaded. "Maybe you'll know more when you actually see the spot where Benjy was."

  Jaida could feel the force of Trey's gaze, and it was an effort to keep her eyes on Lauren. She was all too aware of what she would see in his eyes at any rate. "Yes," she responded quietly, surely. "I'll know more then."

  Trey focused on the tremulous smile his sister aimed at Jaida and his face went still. Despite everything that had happened to Lauren in her life, she continued to be as trusting a person as he'd ever met. He'd wondered about that sometimes, how the events of their early lives could have had such opposite effects on the shaping of their personalities.

  His gaze shifted to encompass both Jaida and Lauren. They were a picture of contrasts, his sister's dark hair providing a foil for the other woman's translucent blond shade. Doubtlessly, their differences went far deeper than the physical.

  "Trey." Lauren's soft voice held an imploring note. "You'll take Jaida with you, won't you? You'll let her help?"

  Trey studied his sister, remembering the promise she'd asked of him last night, the one he hadn't given. There was only one way to fully discredit Jaida to Lauren, and that was to play this scene out until Ms. West had enough rope to hang herself with. "I wouldn't even consider leaving here without Jaida," he said.

  Despite his expressionless tone, Jaida felt a palpable chill settle over her at his words. She knew that he was far from trusting her
yet. About as far as it was possible to be. That shouldn't have surprised her, and it certainly shouldn't have caused this forlorn feeling to spread inside. As she met his eyes, she wondered if it was even within her power to change his mind.

  Their gazes clashed for several moments before Lauren's voice interrupted them.

  "You never did say where the motel was. Where is it that you and Jaida will be going?"

  Trey looked at his sister and smiled. He didn't miss a heartbeat delivering the lie. "Didn't I mention that?" he asked smoothly. "I could have sworn I did. We're going to Idaho, honey. Boise, Idaho."

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Finding herself airborne twice in two days was enough to severely dampen Jaida's normally sunny disposition. She forced her fingers to uncurl from the armrest she was clutching with white-knuckled desperation. Ignoring her queasy stomach, she exhaled a breath and snuck a glance at Trey, who was sitting silently beside her. He looked impatient, a little bored and lethally dangerous. The flight attendant didn't seem to interpret his dark good looks in quite the same way, however. She paused in her busy schedule several times to banter with him.

  Jaida snorted delicately. She'd like to warn the other woman not to be taken in by Trey's handsome affability. It was a guise he seemed capable of donning at will.

  She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at the memory of how easily he had duped her this morning. She'd known from the beginning that he was a threat to her, although not in the physical sense. She supposed that if she really wanted to find out more about what made the man tick, what he was really thinking, she could manufacture a reason to touch him, could invite the unconscious bits of knowledge that would surely follow.