by Linda Turner
"No!" She couldn't let him confront her uncle alone! "I—I'll come with you."
Grant cast an eye over the pink thigh-length robe that just barely covered her and wondered if she knew how tempting she was with her hair wild and her face and body still flushed from sleep. Before he could stop it, the memory of her long legs wrapped around him rose up to tantalize and distract him. Better forget last night, he told himself coldly. He'd seen the regret that flared in her eyes the minute she'd remembered their lovemaking. And if he had any sense, he'd regret it, too. Their situation was only going to get worse, and he couldn't let one night of passion complicate everything. She wouldn't easily forgive him for making her see Michael Gallegos for what he really was.
"You sure you want to go downstairs looking like that?" he asked skeptically.
She turned toward her dresser mirror. "What's wrong with the way I look?" she began, only to gasp at the reflection that stared back at her. Was that really her with her mouth still swollen from his kisses, her face and neck and even her thighs, dear God, chafed a rosy pink from his beard? She looked like she'd just enjoyed a wild night of loving. Which she had, she thought, heat burning her cheeks. Whirling abruptly toward the bathroom, she choked out, "Tell him I'll be down in a minute."
Actually, it was closer to fifteen, but when she finally descended the stairs, the woman she'd seen in the mirror was only a distant memory. Dressed in white slacks and a jungle print blouse, her hair tamed and makeup carefully applied to her face, she moved with the unhurried grace of a princess. No one would even suspect that beneath her calm demeanor, her palms were damp and her heart was beating frantically.
Steeling herself against the emotions threatening to tear her in two, she stepped into the living room, where she found Grant and her uncle seated across from each other. They were talking as if they were old friends, while Ryan paced restlessly. "I thought I'd try some fishing while I was here," Grant told her uncle as she stopped in the doorway. "Maybe out on the Keys."
"If you're looking for someone to take you out, try Harry Foster on Key West," the older man said. "He's the best guide in the state."
Grant nodded. "Thanks, maybe I'll do that." He stopped abruptly when he spied Katie. The possessiveness that surged in him irritated the hell out of him. Tension fairly crackled in the air. "Here's Katie now."
Ryan whirled, relieved. "Katie, thank God." He quickly moved to her side. "We've been waiting for you. Uncle Mike wanted to tell us together what he found out."
She took one look at her brother's tight face and reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She knew from his haunted eyes and jerky movements that he was expecting the worst. "It's going to be all right," she said quietly, and prayed that it was true.
"Katie's right," his uncle told him as he rose from the couch, his expression stern. "I talked to the D.A. and it seems the officer who stopped you for that broken taillight was a little presumptuous in searching your car without probable cause. The charges have already been dropped."
"Thank God!" With a relieved cry, Katie gave Ryan a fierce hug. "I knew it! Thank you, Uncle Mike! I don't know what we would have done without you."
Ryan turned to him, too, a wide smile splitting his face. "I was innocent, Uncle Mike, but it would have taken me a while to prove it if you hadn't come to my rescue. Thanks?"
The older man took his offered hand, his grim expression easing only a little as he warned, "Watch yourself next time so that this doesn't happen again. Sometimes when you're in the wrong place at the wrong time, no one cares if you're innocent."
"Yes, sir, I will," he promised with a heartfelt sigh. "I don't ever want to see the inside of a police station again as long as I live. I couldn't sleep last night for thinking about it."
"I'm not surprised," Gallegos retorted, affectionately slapping him on the shoulder. "Go on upstairs and get some rest. You look like you could use it."
Ryan didn't need a second urging. Thanking his uncle again, he bounded up the stairs. As soon as he was out of earshot, Gallegos turned to Katie, his expression once again somber. "I know your job keeps you busy, Katie, and you've got other interests in your life now," he said, looking pointedly at Grant, "but you should keep a closer eye on that young scamp."
She stiffened at the criticism, her eyes narrowing. During the years since her father's death, all three of her uncles had frequently given her advice on how to raise a teenage boy, but this time something in the older man's tone set her back up. "What exactly are you trying to say, Uncle Mike? Do you think Ryan's into drugs?"
"No, no," he said hastily. "Only that he's at that age where he's feeling his oats. Some kids need a little more supervision than others until they learn to handle the responsibilities of being an adult."
"Not Ryan," she retorted. "He's been through more than most kids his age, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. What happened last night wasn't his fault. He was set up."
Grant watched speculation darken the old man's eyes at Katie's hostile tone and swore under his breath. Gallegos was obviously used to her accepting his advice, and this was not the time to raise his suspicions! Shooting Katie a quelling glance, he smoothly directed the conversation away from her. "Last night must have been a rough night for you," he told the older man. "One of your employees murdered by a gang, then Ryan arrested."
The lines bracketing Gallegos's mouth deepened, turning his face harsh. "Leo was a good man. He'll be hard to replace."
Katie stared at him, shivering as a chill slid down her spine. Was the regret on his face real or feigned? The doubt she felt horrified her. She had always trusted him as she would her own father. But what if Grant was right? What if the Mike Gallegos she and the rest of Miami loved for his goodness and generosity was nothing more than a carefully constructed sham? Her fingers curled into her palms, the bite of her nails steadying her. "Do the police have any idea which gang was responsible?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet. There weren't any clues."
"What about motive? There must be a reason—"
"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time," he replied, his eyes locking with hers. "It happens that way sometimes. That's what I was trying to tell Ryan. A perfectly innocent person can wander down the wrong street, see something he shouldn't see, and suddenly his life isn't worth a damn."
Suddenly noticing her pale face, he reached over to give her shoulder a fatherly pat. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm sure Ryan has learned his lesson. Enough of this gloom and doom," he chided as he headed toward the front door. "I'm giving a party tomorrow night for James Watkins. You know, the young man who's running for the state legislature and making such a splash with the women. All your father's old friends will be there. Why don't you come? And you, too, Grant, of course," he added smoothly. "It's black tie, and there will be plenty of champagne and dancing."
Katie stared at him as if she had never seen him before. She couldn't have imagined it. He'd just threatened her and then in the next breath invited her to a party! Confused, she stepped back. "I don't think—"
"We'd love to go," Grant cut in with an easy smile as he opened the door for the older man. "It sounds like fun."
"Good." Stepping to Katie's side, he kissed her cheek and smiled. "Come early so you can spend some time with your Aunt Sarah," he suggested, then left before she could do anything but sputter a goodbye.
The minute the door shut, Katie turned on Grant indignantly. "Just what do you think you're doing? I had no intention of going to that party!"
"Why?"
"Because…" She dragged her hand through her hair, confused by loyalties that had never been divided before. "I can't believe this!" she cried in growing frustration. "There's got to be another explanation."
Grant crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door. "You can't still think he's innocent. Come on, Katie, you heard what he said. Back off or else. The man couldn't have been any plainer if he'd carved his message in stone."
"He was speaking hypothetically," she said desperately, although she knew she was grasping at straws. "If he's the roller, if he really was responsible for Sam and Leo's deaths, then why would he invite us to a party at his house? He's got to know we're on to him."
"Maybe not," he countered. "Word's definitely out by now that we were looking for Leo, and Gallegos probably knows he talked to Sam. But I doubt if Gallegos knows for sure that we found him. And he sure as hell doesn't know we were in his refinery last night. If he did, Leo wouldn't have been the only one found floating in the canal."
Dear God, could they really be talking about the man who had bounced her on his knee when she was a baby? "That still doesn't explain why he invited us to that party," she argued. "If he really has something to hide, he wouldn't let us within a hundred yards of his home."
"He would if be wanted to keep his eye on you," he reasoned. "He doesn't have to wonder what you're doing when you're under his own roof." He watched pain, anger and betrayal cross her face and knew there was nothing he could do to ease her anguish. If anything, his presence in her life would only heighten it. Swearing, he stepped away from the door and said, "I know this is rough on you. If you want to drop out and let me continue the investigation alone, I'll understand. All I need now is enough evidence to link Gallegos directly to the drugs, and it'll all be over. I'll have to catch him in the act, but I can do that alone."
He was offering her an easy way out. All she had to do was step back and let him take the responsibility for everything. She wouldn't have to bear the pain of knowing she was the one who exposed her uncle for what he really was. But could she do that? Could she back away from a tough assignment when she never had before?
"No." She didn't know she'd spoken the word aloud until Grant asked her if she was sure. She nodded, her jaw set stubbornly. "I agreed to help you find Sam's murderer. No matter who it was. If my uncle's guilty, then I'm going to help you prove it."
The party was in full swing when they arrived the following evening, and it was obvious from the cars lining the circular drive that the cream of Miami society was already inside. Mercedes, Jaguars, and even a Rolls or two spilled from Gallegos's property out onto the street. Grant parked his rented Ford behind a 560SL and cut the engine, his eyes gleaming with appreciation at the contrast. The evening promised to be very interesting.
Katie stepped from the car before Grant could come around to help her, her eyes drawn to the house a half a block away. It was as regal as a palace with its tall, arched windows and French doors opening out onto balustraded terraces dripping with bougainvillea. As a child, she'd run through the halls, slid down the banisters, played on the lawn. But then, as now, she'd always liked it best at twilight, when the light was soft and romantic, the last rays of the sinking sun turning its off-white stone walls rosy.
This house belongs in a fairy tale, she thought as nerves knotted in her stomach. But the mm who lived there was no prince.
Grant walked around the car to join her, silently studying her. In the fading light, she was a vision out of his dreams. Her dress was made of a sapphire-blue diaphanous material that seemed to shimmer when she walked. Its long, full skirt, which fell in graceful folds to the ground, whispered with her every movement. Grant didn't doubt for a minute that there would be women at the party dressed in much more revealing gowns, but they'd be hard-pressed to look as exquisite as the woman before him. Her shoulders were bare and her hair was a cascade of ebony curls that tumbled down to her shoulders. His gaze lingered on the diamond clips that held her hair back from her face, then dropped to the diamond heart necklace that rested at the beginning swell of her breast. Her magnolia skin was made for the hot ice of diamonds.
Wordlessly, he held his hand out to her, offering her a challenge he knew she wouldn't back away from. She didn't disappoint him. Stiffening her spine, she placed her fingers in his. He felt them tremble. Nerves. She handled herself well, but he knew she was dreading the next few hours in her uncle's house. The party would go much easier for her if he gave her something else to worry about. Namely … him.
"I knew this was too good an opportunity to pass up," he commented casually as they started up the driveway toward the house. "This place is bound to have a lot of closets. I can't wait to look for the skeletons hidden in them."
Katie caught the glint of mischief in his eyes and felt her heart slam into her throat. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a startling white silk shirt, he looked devilishly handsome and far too dangerous. Her fingers curled around his. "Oh, God, I knew it! You've got something planned. Damn it, Grant—"
"Shh," he cautioned, winking at her, his grin wicked. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything to get us thrown out. Just a little exploring."
When there were hundreds of people around? she thought wildly. "Have you lost your mind?"
"Probably," he conceded, chuckling, and pulled her with him through the front door.
Michael Gallegos was famous for his parties, and the minute they stepped into the entranceway it was easy to see why. The house was alive with color and lights and music. Waiters serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne circulated through a crowd of guests that Katie saw in a quick glance included the mayor, a well-known Hollywood actress, and several football players from the Miami Dolphins. Through the open French doors that led to the terrace she saw a small orchestra that had been set up, and the soft strains of "Stardust" floated on the night air. Couples swayed to the romantic music. The women's long dresses and jewels formed bright splashes of color against the elegant black of the men's formal wear.
"Let's dance," Grant suggested and headed for the terrace with her in tow.
She frowned in annoyance. Damn the man, he couldn't talk about hunting down skeletons in closets in one breath and then expect her to dance in the next! "Grant! I know you're up to something, and I'm not going to let you distract me with dancing."
"Wanna bet?" he growled, and pulled her into his arms.
By unspoken agreement, he hadn't touched her since they'd made love. They'd both known it was for the best. They'd kept their conversations strictly impersonal, ignoring the awareness that pulled at them, until Katie had almost convinced herself that she had imagined that dark night of loving. But the minute he wrapped her close and rested his cheek against her temple, she knew she lied. The longing, the need, was stronger than ever.
But still, she fought it. Determined to remain unaffected by his embrace, she drew back, putting as much space between them as the dance would allow. "You were saying?" she said archly.
Grant stared down into her eyes and told himself to ignore the unconscious challenge she threw at him. Then he spied Gallegos standing near the French doors that opened off the living room, his dark, hooded eyes watching their every move, and he knew that was impossible. Nodding silently to the older man, he swore against the charade he himself had insisted on and turned his attention back to Katie. "Your uncle's watching," he said in a low voice, gathering her closer. "Smile. We don't want to give him anything to be suspicious about."
"Then don't go snooping around his house when he's not looking," she said through gritted teeth as her lips formed a smile. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
He managed to look affronted despite the grin that pulled at his mouth. "I never do anything stupid."
She was a dream in his arms, one he could resist for only so long. Giving into the need, he nuzzled her ear, drawing in her scent. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"
"You can save the sweet nothings," she said huskily. "I'm not the type, and anyway, my uncle can't hear them."
He pulled back, surprised that she could hurt him so easily. "You don't believe me?" he asked quietly. "It's true, you know. You almost knocked me out of my shoes when I first saw you in that dress. It ought to be outlawed."
He was serious. Katie knew she was fighting a losing battle as she felt herself starting to give in to his charms. "Why?" she whispered.
"Because e
very man who sees you in it is going to want to take you home with him. Including me."
"But you are taking me home."
"Don't remind me," he groaned under his breath when her hand moved to the back of his neck and the dark hair that just brushed his collar. Grabbing her wrist, he brought her fingers down to his chest and trapped them there as he tried to give her a stern look. This wasn't turning out quite the way he'd planned. "Behave yourself."
So he wasn't as in control as he would have her believe. The thought went to her head like wine, tempting her more than she could bear. Under his hand, her fingers moved against the hard muscles of his chest, caressing him. When he growled her name warningly, she only grinned and reminded him, "You're the one who wanted to dance."
His hands tightened on her as if he would draw her into his skin. "When I get you home—"
He never finished the threat. Suddenly, Mike Gallegos was there, tapping Grant on the shoulder and giving Katie a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "How about a dance with your old uncle?" he quipped.
In the blink of an eye, her blood cooled, chilling her. She glanced helplessly at Grant.
But he only gave her hand another squeeze and let her go. "I guess that's the price I have to pay for being with the most beautiful woman here," he said ruefully. "Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. I'll see you later."
He was going to search the house! She could see it in his eyes. "Grant!" she began, but it was too late. He slipped among the swirl of dancers and she was left facing her uncle alone as the orchestra began to play "Some Enchanted Evening."
Gallegos smiled and took her into his arms, easing her into the dance. "Grant's right. You put every other woman here to shame. Your father would be proud of you."
"I hope so," she whispered, her eyes searching his. Once she would have accepted such a compliment from him without thinking a thing of it. He had always been generous with his approval, free with his affection. But now that she knew what he was capable of, his sincerity seemed only skin deep. Why hadn't she realized before that it was all just an act to hide the real Michael Gallegos from the world?