Night, Sea, And Stars

by Heather Graham

  “Jagger will find out.”

  Skye shrugged. “I’ll have to handle that if and when it happens.”

  “You know an abor—”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Again a silence reigned between them, but it was a comfortable silence, marked by a friendship that had risen in the ashes of what almost was but could never be.

  Ted rose to leave. He kissed her forehead. “Call me if you need me. I’ll always be there.”

  Skye nodded, her throat too constricted for speech.

  He reached the door.

  “Ted.”

  He turned. There were tears in his eyes. Why had she stopped him, prolonged this agony? “I’m sorry, Ted. I’m so sorry.”

  He gave her a rueful, strained grin. “Don't be sorry. Don't be anything but Skye—honest, warm, and beautiful. You can’t help your feelings, honey. You love him. You can't change that, and I can’t change that. Not now, anyway. But later, if you want to try, I’ll be around.”

  He was gone. Skye stared out the plate glass for hours, she prayed that he would find a woman who would give him all the love he deserved.

  And she wondered achingly what kind of a fool she was to give up a man like him for the emptiness that the future promised

  Unless Kyle did care for her, unless he loved her, unless Lisa gave him his freedom…

  Unless, in short, a miracle occurred.

  September 26, San Francisco

  From his office window Kyle could see the bridge glimmering beneath the sun. He stared at it, thoughtfully chewing the nub of a pencil. When he had returned from the island he had spent a month in Australia, and now, for the past month, he had been trying to contact Skye. She had spoken to him only once—very coolly. She had asked after his family, then his wife. He told her his family was fine, he assumed Lisa, too, was well.

  “She is still your wife?”

  “Yes—but—”

  He never had a chance to continue. Skye had excused herself to answer another call. She had never returned to the line.

  Since then he had spoken with her secretary a dozen times; he had heard the recorded message on her answering machine another two dozen.

  But now he was going to wait no longer. His sources had informed him that she was no longer seeing Ted Trainor. When he finished the interview he must now handle, he planned to contact Trainor himself, then fly to New York. She wouldn’t come to a phone, but by damn she would see him. She would have to because he’d gag the damn secretary and break down her office door if he had to.

  Kyle’s intercom buzzed. He flicked a switch on the left side of his large oak desk.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Jagger is here, Mr. Jagger.”

  “Send her right in,” Kyle said grimly.

  He stood while he awaited Lisa. She entered with all the flair he might have expected, seeming to float on the breeze of expensive French perfume, her hat sporting a lilac feather, which he assumed must be chic. Her hair was coiffed elegantly; her manner was assured.

  “Hello, Lisa,” he said calmly, pleased that he would be the one with the bombshell for once. “Thank you for coming.”

  She closed the door behind her, paused dramatically, then moved gracefully across the tan soft pile carpet. Kyle was a man of simple tastes. One contemporary sofa in a tawny shade to match the oak Of his desk flanked it. Lisa seated herself, watching him.

  “I was summoned,” she murmured sarcastically. “So I’m here.” Lisa slowly drew off her gloves finger by finger. “I believe you’ve heard from my attorneys? I’m contesting any action.” She smiled very prettily. “I believe the differences in our marriage can be reconciled.”

  Kyle smiled, equally pleasantly. He took his seat behind the desk once more and tapped the pencil he had been chewing against his desk. “I’ve heard your response from my attorneys, Lisa.”

  “I hope you haven’t called me here to threaten me, Kyle? That wouldn’t sit at all well with a judge.”

  “Lisa, I have to admit I’ve actually thought of strangling you and accepting the consequences as well worth the deed. But no, I haven’t asked you here to threaten you. This is a very polite warning. You don’t want a divorce; I don’t think we have to go through one. You see, I believe I can have our marriage annulled.”

  “Annulled!”

  “That’s right, annulled. You see, Lisa, marriage is a contract. A contract can be broken when there has been misrepresentation on either side. As in the wife having full knowledge she is carrying the child of another man and refusing to mention that fact—”

  “You wouldn’t!” Lisa’s calm was broken; she was on her feet, her beautiful face contorted in a twist of rage. “You wouldn’t! That would make Chris… that would make Chris… No! You can’t do it! You’ll never get away with it. We’ve been married for twenty years. No judge in the world will give you an annulment.”

  Kyle knew he had to maintain a dead calm. He had to carry out the world’s finest bluff. “Don’t count on that, Lisa. I wouldn’t be attempting such a thing if my lawyers hadn’t advised me as to the feasibility.”

  “You wouldn’t do it to Chris, I know you wouldn’t. He would know then that you weren’t his father, and I don’t believe that you would do that to him—or yourself. You don’t want to ever take any chances on losing Chris—”

  “Chris is twenty years old, Lisa. He’s an adult. He’s old enough to make his own choices—”

  “And he’ll choose to hate you if you have him legally declared a bastard!”

  Kyle gripped the undercorner of his desk. Beneath his tailored business suit, muscles were tense. He gripped harder. He couldn’t fly into a rage… “Lisa, I was the one who was there when Chris took his first steps, when he said his first word, when he woke up in the night with bad dreams… Oh, what’s the sense of going on? I think Chris might understand.”

  “He’s still my son, Kyle. No matter what you did when he was young, he’ll hate you if you throw me out and have him declared a bastard. And I’m still not terribly sure you can do it!”

  “Lisa, you’re acting like the vestal virgin spurned. You forget— Chris was witness to any number of the things you did. You weren’t particularly discreet. You never hid your affairs from him.” Kyle broke off with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to argue with you, Lisa. The past is over. I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t really want to hurt anyone. But I want out. Think about this. If I succeed with an annulment, you wind up with nothing. If you sign the papers that will get us out of this marriage in a matter of two months, you’ll get half of my personal assets. The choice is yours.”

  “You’re bluffing, Kyle.”

  “Am I?” He raised a brow at her with a polite smile.

  Yes, he was bluffing. Or was he? At this point he didn’t know himself. He had thought about this confrontation for endless hours.

  He loved his son with his entire being—what he contemplated was almost an irreverence. Chris was his son. It was the pain of a deep and twisted knife to even consider using a threat that involved Chris…

  But it was the only threat he knew. And a threat was nothing more than words. Dear God, what would Chris think if he knew? Could he lose his son? Kyle wondered. Blood meant nothing to Kyle, but would it mean everything to Chris?

  No, Kyle thought, his faith in the boy was justified.

  But what would Chris think? What would he feel?

  Oh. Chris, I don’t ever want you to know. Forgive me for even threatening. In reality, I can’t even contemplate your knowing the truth, much less hearing that I'm willing to make you a bastard.

  Yes, it was a bluff.

  But Lisa couldn’t know that. She had to believe that he meant every word that he said.

  Perhaps Lisa had been reading his thoughts. She smiled as she watched him and repeated, “You’re bluffing, Kyle.”

  “Am I?” Cool, he warned himself. He raised a brow at her with a polite smile. The
pencil still lay on his desk. He picked it up and casually played with it. “I’ll give you exactly two weeks to make up your mind. Have papers signed by October 10, or I’ll have you in court for annulment proceedings.”

  Lisa rose, staring at him with challenge. “What is your hurry, Kyle? Has little Skye given you a time limit?”

  “I haven’t seen Skye since Igua, Lisa. This is my choice.”

  “I see. Skye won’t see you until you’re free. Pity, Kyle, because you’re right. I don’t care if you sleep with that woman. But I guess she covets the title of ‘Mrs.’ herself. I don’t intend to let her have it. You can fight me until you turn blue in the face, Kyle, and I’ll Still keep you in court for years. I’ll even go for a stake in precious Executive Charters. So where does that leave you? She won’t be your mistress. Although I must point out that if she did care for you—and not affluence and power—she would be with you, don’t you think? But you can’t give her what she wants. And so you have to sit here while she winds those pretty little legs around that producer’s—”

  “Get out!” The pencil snapped in Kyle’s fingers; his attempt at calm was lost in a roar. He stood again; Lisa had sense enough to do the same and back slowly toward the door.

  “Hit you where it hurts, eh, Kyle?” she threw out.

  “I don’t care to listen to your vicious and vulgar mouth, Lisa. I repeat myself, get out. You’ve got your choices. Now leave before I solve all our problems by breaking your neck.”

  His voice had regained quiet control. It held a deathly quality that moved Lisa. She stalked quickly to the door and set her hand upon the handle before casting out a last warning. “Try to bring her back, Kyle. See if she’s worth everything you’re going to have to go through to have her. See if she does care enough about you to sleep with you. And you’ll discover she’s just another warm body. You’ll tire of her when you start to see Executive Charters torn to shreds—”

  She broke off abruptly, pulling the door wide open as Kyle began to take steps toward her. Beneath the bronze of his face was a white anger. Muscles twitched in his jaw; his lips were a tight line more grim than the coiled tension of his stalk.

  “I’m leaving, Kyle. Just remember what I’ve said.”

  She was out; the door closed. Lisa was no fool. She knew she had pushed his patience to the limits.

  Kyle stopped where he was. He closed his eyes, willing the painful fury to ease from his body. He stood dead still for several seconds, slowly breathing with regularity.

  He returned to his desk, stared at the reports of the fruitless search for a clue to the gold heist, stared at the papers piled high on his desk awaiting his signature.

  He saw nothing—except the vision Lisa had planted in his head. Skye… naked… seductively smiling… arms reached out…

  He threaded his fingers tightly through his hair, pressed hard at his temples.

  He flicked on his intercom. “Jennie, tell Michael I'm leaving in an hour—clear me through to Kennedy. Then get me through to New York City. A Mr. Ted Trainor. Whatever you have to do, get him on the phone. Hold all of my other calls.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kyle forced himself to turn his attention to the business on his desk. He scanned purchases and routes, scowled, set problems aside, set his signature to what he approved. Time ticked away, and he didn’t stop

  The intercom buzzed. “You're through to Mr. Trainor, Mr. Jagger.”

  Kyle didn't hedge with his conversation.

  “Trainor?”

  “Yes?” The reply was slow, suspicious.

  “I’m coming to New York. To see Skye. It’s my understanding that you two are no longer seeing one another. Is that true?”

  There was a long hesitation. “Jagger, that’s none of your business—”

  “Why?”

  There was a hesitation again. “Mr. Jagger, Skye is my friend. I’m afraid if you want answers, you’ll have to get them from her.”

  “I just wanted you to know that I am coming. And that I do intend to see Skye.”

  “I can’t stop you, Jagger. You should have seen her before this. But I’ll tell you something. I asked her to marry me. She refused… because of certain circumstances. But take care of her, Jagger, or I’ll still be around.”

  “Just what does that mean?"

  There was a long sigh. “You have to talk to Skye, Jagger. I’m not at liberty to say more.”

  “All right, Trainor.” Kyle paused for a moment. “Thank you.”

  There was silence on the line. “You’re welcome,” Ted said finally.

  Within an hour Kyle was headed east.

  September 26, New York City

  Skye glanced up as Lucy Grant breezed into her office, perplexity written on her round, friendly face. Her graying hair was frizzled as if she had literally been trying to pull it out.

  “Skye, honey, I know you’re busy with the Rathstadt designs, but Mrs. de Vintner is driving me crazy! She said she expected her Egyptian earrings to be twenty-four karat, and I’ve tried and tried to explain about the weight but she won’t listen to a word I say.”

  Skye laughed and set her pencil aside. “I’ll talk to her, Lucy. What line?”

  “Oh-seven," Lucy said gratefully. “I know secretaries are supposed to save the boss from the hassles, but honestly, honey, this woman—”

  Skye waved a dismissing hand. "I know Mrs. de Vintner. Go on ahead and see if you can contact Mrs. Rathstadt. This will be ready for her to see this afternoon.”

  Lucy exited with a sigh of relief. Skye picked up the phone, cordially inquired about Mrs. de Vintner’s health, then proceeded to explain that the drop earrings that reached almost to Mrs. de Vintner’s shoulders had to have hoops of eighteen-karat gold. The copper alloy within the hoops strengthened them. Twenty-four-karat gold could not sustain the heavy pull of the earrings, which, combined, were an entire ounce of gold. Mrs. de Vintner was finally appeased. Skye hung up the phone, rested her forehead in her hands, then stood and stretched, rubbing her lower back.

  She moved to her window, leaned against the pale blue draperies, and stared to the street, so far below. The people busily moving about looked like hordes of ants. It was only early afternoon, but the cars were creeping along, congested in an eternal traffic jam.

  She grew dizzy staring down, and closed her eyes to fight a wave of nausea. She was so tired. The doctor had promised her the miserable sick feeling would leave her soon, but “soon” couldn't be soon enough. Her pregnancy wasn’t even apparent yet, but damn, she could feel it! She was thin, so there was already a soft swelling to her belly, and she was finding herself more and more frequently touching that little swell. She might be half crazy, but she was already in love with the little life she carried. The love made up for all the discomfort But not for the loneliness.

  She bit into her lip, thinking of all the times Kyle had called. Each time she heard his voice, growing angrier with every recorded message, she was tempted to pick up the phone, to tell him that she needed him, that she loved him, that she didn’t care about anything except that he be with her.

  But she didn’t pick up the phone. She would dig her nails into her palms to steel herself. She had made her decisions. If Kyle had really cared for her, he would have come…

  And she didn’t want him because he felt obligated. She didn’t want him going through strain and misery to rid himself of Lisa, when he would only be trapped into another marriage of obligation like the first that had been such a disaster.

  Skye left the window and returned to her desk, trying to concentrate on her design. Concentration wouldn’t come She closed her eyes again. It was pleasant to daydream. When she closed her eyes, she could remember the clean breezes of the ocean, waking to the sound of the surf, feeling sand between her toes, knowing Kyle was near and that their entire existence was for one another.

  She opened her eyes. She had to be half crazy to be wishing herself back on a deserted island, struggling against the elemen
ts.

  She sighed. In another month she would go to Sydney and leave the business of Delaney Designs to Lucy. Virginia had been gone a month now, and Skye sorely missed her company. In Sydney she could find anonymity while planning her life and still keeping busy with the actual work of design…

  Skye stared back down at the Rathstadt design. The dress swept the floor in luscious folds, but the neck was bare, the cleavage was low, held by thin straps. Mrs. Rathstadt wanted her jeweled accessories bold and striking. And Mrs. Rathstadt was a stunning regal-looking woman. She would be able to carry the boldest design with a flair.

  Skye set a transparency over the original drawing and set to work. The clear neckline would allow for a heavy gold collar, with an emerald pendant to catch and accent the rich green of the gown, which would be of the finest Chinese silk.

  Skye was startled from the concentration she had almost achieved as Lucy burst back into her office. “Skye, I’m terribly sorry, but this gentleman insists on seeing you…”

  For a split second Skye’s heart seemed to constrict, to skip a beat. She was sure it was Kyle, he had finally come, and she should be upset because she didn’t want to see him because things could never work out, but she was so happy because she just wanted to see him again, to stare at him and have all that he was refreshed in her memory.

  The man wasn’t Kyle.

  He was a nondescript little person in some sort of a drab uniform. He wore a badge.

  "Miss Skye Delaney.”

  “Yes, I am. What—”

  An envelope was stuffed in her hand. The little man turned as quickly as he had come and disappeared through her office door, closing it behind him.

  Skye stared after the man, looked at a stunned and very upset Lucy, then back to the envelope. Shrugging, she opened it. Legal terms began to swim before her eyes.

  “What is it?” Lucy demanded.

  “I’m not sure,” Skye murmured with confusion. “It seems I’m being subpoenaed to appear in an Australian court!”