by Stone, Jean
Meg sank into her desk chair. “Horrible.”
“Well, we were thinking of you.”
Alissa and Zoe were thinking of her? Had anyone ever thought of Meg before?
“What about the media?” Alissa went on. “Did they pounce on you with their flashbulbs?”
“I didn’t give them a chance.”
Alissa laughed. “Oh, Meg. And I always have to work so hard to get the media’s attention! Listen, I’m calling to ask you a favor. That fellow who called you to tell you about your boss? Did you say he’s a private investigator?”
“Danny? Yes. He’s on retainer here at the firm.”
“Does he freelance?”
“What do you mean?” Meg wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this. Alissa as a long-distance friend was one thing; Alissa involved in her day-to-day life was quite another.
“Well, I need to hire someone to look for Jay. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Meg stretched the phone cord. “You said you last saw him on cable. Why don’t you start there?”
“I don’t have patience for that. Besides, I can’t take the chance of anyone finding out what I’m doing. I’m a married woman, remember? So here’s what I’ve decided. Before I go back to Atlanta, I’ll take the shuttle into the city. We can meet for dinner tomorrow night at the Russian Tea Room. I really want to hire your private investigator friend to find Jay. I would at least feel as though I could trust him if he was a friend of yours. Besides, if he’s a professional, I’m sure he’s discreet.”
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, Danny is discreet.”
“Great. Then I’ll see you tomorrow. The Russian Tea Room, eight-thirty.”
Meg hung up the phone, wondering what on earth she had just agreed to. She opened her desk drawer again and looked at the card. Steven K. Riley. Did she really have the nerve?
7
Alissa settled into the narrow seat in the low one-seat-per-side cabin and rejected the flight attendant’s offer of honey-roasted peanuts and a cold drink. As she hooked the buckle of her seat belt and tightened the strap, Alissa congratulated herself on remembering to give the staff at the Golden Key an extra tip so that Zoe’s special needs were met after Alissa was gone. She’d also promised to call Zoe and make sure she was sticking to her diet and adhering to the workout schedule Alissa devised. She was satisfied with Zoe’s progress so far, and prayed her new friend would be able to accomplish a major comeback. What that would mean for Alissa was almost too wonderful to consider.
If Zoe got that part in the TV movie, it would be aired less than two weeks before the gala. Fans would come out of hiding. The press would go wild. Zoe would quickly become the hottest thing in the news, the most sought-after personality since Princess Di retreated from the limelight. And then it would be time for Alissa to call in a few favors. After all, what were friends for?
As the plane taxied down the runway, Alissa closed her eyes and smiled. Meanwhile she would consolidate her friendship with the celebrated Meg Cooper—another social coup. I’m brilliant, Alissa thought.
The plane revved its engines and Alissa braced herself for takeoff. In front of her she could see two hands holding across the aisle. Terrified passengers. One hand belonged to a young man seated on the opposite side, just one seat up from Alissa. The other hand was delicate and had a tiny diamond set in gold on the ring finger. Young lovers, Alissa thought. Probably their first time off the farm.
The plane rattled and rumbled. As she felt the thrust as it left the ground, Alissa saw the hands clasp more tightly together.
She closed her eyes again and wondered how long it had been since anyone had held her hand. Had Robert? Ever? Had any of her lovers? Holding hands was such an intimate thing to do, more intimate in its way than kissing, more intimate than making love.
Jay Stockwell had held her hand.
An uneasiness rose within her as she felt the small plane level off at cruising altitude.
The first time, they had been at a polo match. She had been fourteen. Jay, two years older. They’d gone out to the stables to see Jay’s father’s new horse. Alissa had had to stand on a bale of hay to peek into the stall. Jay had taken her hand to help her keep her balance. But he’d held it longer than he had to.
They had first made love when she was fifteen. A fact, Alissa mused now, that would probably shock her daughters. They’d done it in the back of his father’s limo on the chauffeur’s day off, safe from all eyes, in the garage on the Stockwell estate. They’d been innocent and awkward, but, still, it had been wonderful. And afterward he’d held her hand.
And now where was he?
“I’m going to help save the people of the world,” he’d said in their last conversation in San Francisco. “I’m going to work for peace.”
“But don’t you want to make a name for yourself?” Alissa remembered the long fringed tunic she’d worn, and the beads around her neck. Jay had actually made her that bead necklace, and she’d sworn never to take it off. She wondered what had ever become of it.
Their apartment in San Francisco had been squalid. At the time it had seemed perfect. The walls were covered with neon posters where plaster had once been; the kitchen had a huge yellowed-porcelain sink where they’d drained spaghetti in an old tin colander. They’d eaten no meat. They’d had a lot of friends, though she could not remember their names. They’d drunk a lot of wine, smoked a lot of hashish, and occasionally Alissa had watched Jay drop acid. She had been terrified of LSD and had never taken any herself. She hadn’t wanted to probe the dark corners of her psyche; she hadn’t wanted to expand her mind beyond the here and the now. She hadn’t wanted to lose control.
In the daytime Jay had written poetry and read to her while she plucked flowers from the gardens at MacArthur Park. At night they’d slept on a thin, worn mattress, wrapped in each other’s arms. Alissa had often been awakened by the gentle push of his eager penis against her; it was the time she had loved most of all, to feel his hardness, and his need, while she slept.
Looking back, Alissa realized that San Francisco had been the most memorable time of her life. It was a shame it had lasted only two months. Two months was all it had taken for Alissa to realize that, for Jay, this was no game. No phase. He had meant everything he’d said, about saving the world, about spreading the peace. To Alissa it had all seemed like such hard work, such a waste of time.
“If you make a name for yourself, you’ll be able to help the people more,” she’d tried to reason with him on that last day.
“You think I could do that by going home and working in my father’s business?”
She had looked at him. His hair was longer than before they’d left home. His clothes were starting to get worn. And they smelled. His mother, she remembered thinking, would be appalled.
As would the members of the WFFA if they ever knew I’d lived that way, Alissa thought now.
She looked out the tiny round window at the puffy white clouds below. Why was she even considering trying to find Jay again? Because, Alissa realized, I never stopped loving him. She thought of all the nights, all those years when she’d secretly flipped through the channels, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of him, to hear his words, his voice. The words that had once been poetry written for her, the voice that had once read to her. It was the only time in her life that Alissa had felt special. Loved.
If she’d stayed with him, yes, her life would have been different. She’d have had a world beyond Atlanta; she’d have had a life filled with excitement and culture and challenges.
But she would never have had the courage.
She wondered if she had the courage now.
Alissa stepped inside the main level of the Russian Tea Room at eight fifty-five and glanced quickly around the deep, narrow room at the patrons clustered around small, cozy tables. She spotted Meg off to the side and realized it was the first time Alissa had seen her in a suit. As she waved and walked toward the table, Alissa wondered why this beautiful
woman insisted on looking the part of the stereotypical attorney. Some color, some jewelry, and something other than “sensible clothes”—something more like the short-cropped light wool jacket and car-wash pleated skirt that Alissa had on—would certainly win Meg more recognition.
“Sorry I’m a bit late,” Alissa said as she slid onto the leather banquette. “It always takes longer than I think to get anywhere in this city.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Plaza. I love looking out over Fifth Avenue. It’s so Manhattan. Of course, I mush prefer the Helmsley—poor Leona—but the location gives me claustrophobia.” She hailed a waiter and ordered wine. Then she fumbled in her purse and took out a cigarette and her gold Cartier lighter.
Meg raised her eyebrows.
Alissa glanced around. “Don’t tell me. No smoking.”
“Sorry.”
“God, that pisses me off.” She jammed the cigarette and lighter back into her purse and folded her hands on the table. “The more I need to smoke, the fewer places I can do it in. I’ll bet if I was one of your notorious clients, they’d rush over here with an ashtray. Probably two.”
“My clients aren’t all notorious.”
“They are once the tabloids get ahold of them. What are you working on now? Incest? Murder? I want to hear all the juicy details.”
“Sorry. Client confidentiality.”
“Oh, pooh. You’re no fun at all. And here I thought I’d actually found a friend I could talk to about something more than charity balls and fund-raisers.” There. She’d gotten the words out. Charity balls and fund-raisers. She’d planted the seed.
“Tell me about them,” Meg said. “It sounds much more glamorous than what I do.”
Alissa waved her hand. “It’s nothing. Really. Though every fall I do put on an enormous gala. This year it will benefit the homeless.” She sighed. “Homelessness is becoming such a problem. Even in Atlanta.” She tried to pose her face in an expression of concern and caring. “I haven’t figured out the details yet, but I’ve decided to make it an event extraordinaire. One that will be talked about all over the globe.”
“Well, if anyone can pull it off, you can.”
Alissa smiled. There was no need to go on about the gala. She’d made her point. “Speaking of memorable events, did you talk to your friend about helping me?”
“Danny? Yes. He said he’ll be glad to meet you tomorrow, but he wants you to know looking for lost loves isn’t really his field of expertise.”
“Money is money,” Alissa said with a shrug. “I’ll pay him well enough, I’m sure. Tell him to be at my suite at ten o’clock. I’m on the second floor, overlooking the Avenue.”
Meg jotted down the information in a small notebook.
The waiter arrived and placed a glass of wine in front of Alissa.
“Is Danny going to help you find your guy?” Alissa asked after the waiter had left.
Meg laughed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Let’s just say this is something I have to do myself.”
“Hey—this is just for laughs, remember? To see how our lives could have turned out. You’re not chickening out, are you? So what if he’s married. It’s not stopping me.”
Meg fingered the rim of her glass. “I’m afraid there’s more to it than that.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, Meg, what is it? It can’t be all that bad.”
“Let’s just say he’s in the public eye and leave it at that.”
Alissa gasped. This was simply too good to be true. “Ah,” she murmured, “the plot thickens.”
Sensing that Meg would not divulge anything further for the moment, she opened her menu and scanned the offerings, wondering who on earth Meg’s man really was and how on earth she was going to find out. She could hardly stand not knowing a good bit of gossip. After all, you never knew when it would come in handy.
Meg hadn’t warned her that Danny Gordon looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed. With a woman. Alissa stood in the open doorway of her Plaza suite, wishing she’d worn something sexier than her aqua linen pants and jacket. At least the ivory camisole was silk.
“I could probably talk better inside than here in the hall,” Danny said, with a slightly crooked grin that showed his even white teeth and made his dark eyes sparkle.
Alissa couldn’t remember when she’d seen such long, thick lashes on a man. She stepped aside. “Of course. I’m sorry. Come in.” Maybe this was the reason Meg didn’t want Danny to help her. Maybe Meg was sleeping with this guy. If not, she was a fool.
He crossed the room and helped himself to a seat by the window. Alissa didn’t miss the tight movement of his ass through his jeans. “Nice place you have here.”
Alissa laughed. “Thanks.” She fluffed her wispy blond curls. She’d give anything to be running her fingers through his unruly black hair. “I love it here.” She walked to the window and stared out. “It makes the city seem almost civilized.” She put a hand on her hip, brushing away her jacket, hoping he would notice the tiny lace cup of her half bra through her sheer blouse. She wondered if her nipples were hard.
God, she thought. What the hell am I doing? Didn’t I learn anything from Grant Wentworth? She cleared her throat, closed her jacket, and sat on a chair facing Danny. “I don’t know how much Meg has told you.”
Danny shrugged. She tried not to notice that the muscles strained against his polo shirt; she tried not to imagine how they looked beneath his casual sport coat. “Only that there’s someone you want me to find. I hope she told you this isn’t my usual way of making a living.”
Alissa crossed her legs. “Yes. She also told me how good you are at what you do.”
“Sure I’m good. At criminal cases.”
“Even with criminal cases, I’m sure you’ve needed to locate missing people once or twice.”
Danny looked into her eyes. God, she wished he didn’t have those eyes. “Once or twice,” he said.
Alissa stood again and walked to the fireplace. She leaned against the mantel and turned back to Danny. “I need someone I can trust, Danny.” She slipped a hand into her pocket, forcing her jacket to fail away from her breast once again. “May I call you Danny?” Under normal circumstances Alissa wouldn’t have bothered to ask. But under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have been so bothered. If she were a man, Alissa bet she’d have a hard-on.
He laughed. “Call me whatever you like.”
She straightened and folded her hands in front of her. “I need ultimate discretion. Which is why I’d like you to handle it. Meg trusts you. I trust Meg.” And I need Meg on my side, she reminded herself, so that I can pull off the greatest gala of the year.
“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“Whatever your going rate, I’ll double it.”
He let out a low whistle. “An offer too good to refuse.”
And before I’m through with you, Danny Gordon, she thought, it may not be the only one. “That’s the idea.”
He raised his foot and rested it against his other knee. She noticed that he wore boots. Quality leather boots. Rugged. Masculine. A tingle moved between her thighs. Jeans, boots, and a sport coat. A man with a mind of his own.
“Looking for lost people has always seemed to me to be right up there with spying on husbands and wives. About as respectable as ambulance-chasing attorneys.”
“Oh. I see. It’s beneath you.” Which, she wanted to add, is exactly where I’d like to be.
Danny laughed. “Let’s just say it’s not my specialty.”
“I assure you, this has nothing to do with spying on anyone. This person is someone I knew years ago, and I must find him.”
“But you don’t want anyone to know you’re doing this.”
“Right.”
“Sounds a bit nefarious to me. No offense.”
“I should think you’d be accustomed to that in your line of work.”
&nbs
p; Danny narrowed his eyes. “Look, lady, I’m long past an age when I want to be looking over my shoulder.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”
“Because I need to know what I’m getting into before I agree to anything. I like life. Especially mine. And I’m not big on having jealous husbands or scorned wives decide that I’m the bad guy. Double my rate or not.”
So, Alissa thought, money alone isn’t enough to lure him. Maybe his pride is what matters to him, or his need for a squeaky-clean reputation. If that’s the case, he’s in the wrong business. She walked back to the window and looked down onto the street. The limos were lined up in front of the Plaza, the doormen jockeyed people, the bellmen juggled bags. If it was integrity that Danny Gordon valued, Alissa knew how to handle him. She was, after all, a pro at that, or at the very least, at making things appear that way. If that’s what he wanted, she’d slap him with an overabundance of integrity—right between those bedroom eyes.
“Look, Mr. Gordon, this isn’t easy for me. I’ve never done anything like this before. But I have my reputation to protect. My husband is a very well-respected physician. He heads one of the most prestigious medical facilities in the world. I cannot take the chance of anyone doing this for me who I cannot trust implicitly. Meg recommended you. This is something I’ve wanted to do for many years. But I’ll be perfectly honest with you. If you won’t agree to help, I won’t go elsewhere. I simply won’t be able to bring myself to risk doing it.”
Danny stood up. “The trouble is,” he said, “even if I wanted to help you, I’m on a big case right now with Meg’s firm.”
“I’ve waited this long, I suppose I can wait a little longer.”
Danny shrugged. “They’re my bread and butter. After this case there will probably be another.”
Alissa’s annoyance peaked. Who the hell did this guy think he was? “Then work me in. I really don’t think it would take someone of your expertise terribly long.”
Danny smiled. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? When was the last time you knew where this person was? Give me some details.”