Roses After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  Her mother would be so proud of her.

  Luc shot her a considering look.

  “The clam chowder here is wonderful,” he told her when the waitress stopped at their table. “It’s served in a hollowed-out round of warm sourdough bread.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She beamed.

  It was just as Luc promised. Celeste found the creamy chowder thick and rich and filled with chunks of clams. She made a greedy sound after her first spoonful. She noticed that Luc was as engrossed in his meal as she was.

  “This is perfect rainy day food,” she told him.

  “You have a menu for rainy days?”

  She nodded. “Any kind of stew, chowder, mashed potatoes, hot fudge cake,” she explained.

  “I hope not all at once,” he said.

  “The hot fudge cake can pretty much be a staple. The trouble is, it’s way too easy to make and I’ve been known to eat it all at one sitting. At least I make it in a small square pan or I’d be riding a sugar high.” She dug her spoon into the chowder. “Just ask Jimmy. I never turn down dessert. What about you? Do you have a sweet tooth?”

  His eyes gleamed devilishly. “I have a hankering for sweet things, yes.”

  Celeste felt the heat crawl up her throat and warm her cheeks. “You are a very bad man,” she said.

  “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  “Not where you’re concerned.”

  Luc seemed to keep one eye on Celeste as he finished his chowder. “I gather your sweet tooth won’t allow you to turn down dessert,” he said when their dishes were taken away.

  “Not a chance. I noticed that crème brûlée on the dessert cart and I want to see if it’s as good as it looks.”

  Luc ordered the same, along with coffee for both of them.

  Celeste hated to mar the peaceful moment, but she wanted to get work out of the way. She pulled her notebook and pen out of her bag after the waitress left their dessert and coffee.

  Luc eyed the notebook warily. He set his spoon down.

  “You’re not wasting any time in doing your duty, are you.”

  “You suggested we get away today and you’d let me pick your brain. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. See if there’s anything you might inadvertently know that would help our case,” she pointed out. “Don’t worry, this won’t be long and drawn out. I thought we could do this now. I’m really hoping you might even be able to fill in some blanks.”

  “Blanks?”

  She nodded. “We’re going back to square one and questioning all the victims again in hopes something new might occur to them since our original interviews. It’s still very difficult for them to talk about, so I’m hoping you can help us. If I give you a name, will you tell me what you know about the person?”

  Luc nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Celeste glanced down at her notebook. “Barbara Miller.”

  “Barbara,” he murmured in thought. “Very elegant, a lovely lady. She comes in about every other week or so. Usually for dinner.”

  “Does she come in alone or is she usually with someone?”

  Luc searched his memory. “Both,” he said finally.

  “She’s been there with a date?”

  He shook his head. “I remember a few times she would bring a buyer in for drinks. She joked that one man would fly down from Seattle every time she had a show. I think it was more personal than that.”

  She jumped on that. “Why?”

  “Body language. Dinner wasn’t as leisurely with him as with other buyers,” he said.

  “Did you ever hear her refer to him by name?” Celeste asked as she made notes. “Or would the reservations have been made in his name so you’d have a record of it?”

  Luc shook his head. “I honestly don’t remember. I’m sure the reservations were always in her name, but I can check the reservations book.”

  “Did they come in often?”

  “I’d say they came in every few months or so. But I haven’t seen him in some time.”

  “Really?” She leaned forward. “Did you ever hear why?”

  “We don’t encourage gossip among the employees. But rumor had it that she learned the man was married and she ended the relationship.”

  “Anything else?” Celeste kept writing.

  He thought for a moment. “Not really.”

  “Okay. What about Lauren Davis?”

  “She has that candle shop in the Sequoia Art Center, doesn’t she?” He waited for her confirming reply. “She used to have lunch with us about once a week.”

  “Used to? What changed?”

  “Her divorce, which I’m sure you already know about,” he said. “The last time they were in, her ex-husband created a scene. I think she’s embarrassed to come back.”

  “She never mentioned having an argument with her ex.” Celeste leafed through her notebook.

  “It was more his having one with her. Lauren is very quiet, seems like a private person. Barry came in and accused her of having an affair. You only had to see the shock on her face to know it wasn’t true. I escorted him out,” he said with relish.

  “By any chance do you remember if it happened before or after her attack?” She named the date.

  “Before,” he said promptly.

  “You’re sure?” She rolled her eyes at his expression. “Fine, you have a computer for a memory.”

  She suddenly felt as if that missing puzzle piece was within reach.

  “Nancy Gerard and her boyfriend had a fight in the restaurant,” she said. “Do you remember anything about Marie Richardson? I know she was in a relationship that ended not long ago, but she’s positive her ex had nothing to do with the attack.”

  “She and a friend used to talk about the men in their lives at great length. I know she wasn’t happy with him.”

  Celeste shook her head in amazement. “Is there anyone you don’t know about?”

  “When people eat at a place on a fairly regular basis they soon talk more freely than they might other places,” he explained. “Our staff is trained to blend into the background, to serve them, to make sure they have everything they need and sometimes anticipate what they need.”

  “Living furniture.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Celeste studied the list of names. “They were all in a relationship of some kind,” she mused. “They all ate at the restaurant on a fairly regular basis.” Her head snapped up. Her eyes lit up with gray-green sparks. “And they all had some kind of disagreement with their boyfriend or husband in the restaurant.”

  All expression was wiped from Luc’s face. Even his eyes turned a flat blue-black. “Which means the restaurant is pivotal in your case.”

  Her elation died as quickly as it had risen. While she saw the information as a positive point, another much needed lead, Luc saw it as a negative. That the business he’d worked so hard to build up could be pulled down like a house of cards.

  “I could be wrong,” she said. “For all we know, the connection could be something else. A video store, dry cleaners, dentist.”

  He shook his head. “We both know that’s not true, Celeste. It would make sense. I’ve read the newspaper articles on the attacks. This man thinks he’s making love to the women. Maybe he thinks he’s making them feel better because the men in their lives have left them.”

  “And why he leaves a rose on their pillows,” she inserted. “In his own twisted way, he’s comforting them. He wants to give them what he feels they’ve lost.”

  “He wants to give them love.” His statement hung between them.

  Celeste slowly nodded. She looked at the window, now striped silver with falling raindrops. Beyond, the ocean waves frothed upward as they surged toward the shore. The sheer power took her breath away. She turned back to her lunch companion, who had the same power over her.

  She forced herself to keep her mind on the subject at hand. It wasn’t easy when she looked at him.

  If it turned out his hunch was correc
t, then it wouldn’t just be a suspicion that the restaurant was a connection. It would be a certainty.

  “It’s not as if these men suddenly banded together and decided to punish these women,” Luc said, even his voice keeping a distance from her.

  Celeste closed her notebook and tucked it back into her purse.

  “I suppose you want to call your partner and give him a new heads-up,” Luc said.

  “I’d say Dylan would welcome any interruption since he’s in court today. He hates to wear a tie,” she explained. She looked out the window again. “It’s days like today when I remember there’s a world outside of the one I inhabit. That not everyone is a monster.” She suddenly shook her head. “I’m sorry. Maudlin is not usually one of my traits.”

  Luc looked down at his coffee cup. “All of us have a dark side. Some more than others.”

  “But you actively pursue yours,” she said. “You want people to see that dark and dangerous aura you project, because you think it will keep them away.”

  “I told you before, Celeste. I’m not a nice man.”

  She looked at him and wondered how many women had fallen for those bottomless dark eyes, for the fallen angel persona he projected with his dark clothing and aloof manner.

  She pushed her bowl to one side and rested her arms on the table.

  “What are you afraid of, Luc? Why do you keep people at arm’s length as if you’re afraid they’ll find out about the real you?”

  Luc reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills, dropped them onto the table. He pushed back his chair.

  “Silence is not always a virtue,” she said, following his lead.

  As they left the restaurant, the hostess handed him a wrapped package. He smiled and thanked her, even as he steered Celeste out of the restaurant.

  “Are you still willing to help me find artwork?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She mentally consigned her questions to the locked box that held so many others he hadn’t answered.

  It wasn’t until the third gallery that they found paintings they both agreed upon. Luc purchased them and arranged to have them framed and shipped to the restaurant.

  “What is the Museum of Curiosities?” Celeste asked, noticing a large two-story Victorian-style house dominating a street corner.

  “The house is owned by a ninety-six-year-old woman who has an impressive collection of teapots and cups from all over the world,” Luc replied. “Her husband was the captain of a freighter and always brought one back from his travels. The museum is her way of sharing them with others. Some of the pieces are one-of-a-kind. During the summer she serves tea in the gazebo behind the house. Because of her health the house is only open during the summer. I understand she’s leaving it to the city with the understanding it will be kept a museum after she’s gone.”

  Luc looked up at the sky. “We should get going before it gets dark, in case there’s more rain.”

  “True,” Celeste said, looking around. She made a mental note to return another time.

  As they walked back to the parking lot, Celeste paused in front of the shop where she’d seen the shawl. She sighed when she noticed it gone from the window.

  “Something wrong?” Luc asked, looking down at her.

  “No.” She shook her head.

  The clap of thunder gave no warning. Celeste squeaked and jumped at the loud booming sound. The downpour that followed was another surprise.

  “Ready to run for the car?” Luc shouted in her ear.

  She nodded and took his hand. Luc disarmed the remote locks a second before they reached the vehicle.

  “We’re getting the seats all wet,” Celeste said with dismay as she settled into the passenger seat.

  “Don’t worry, they’ll survive,” he said, grinning as he peered out the windshield. “This looks more like a squall, so it shouldn’t last long.” He switched on the engine, then the heater and defroster.

  It took a few minutes for the heater to blast out warm air. Celeste had just unbuttoned her coat and settled back in her seat, when another clap of thunder made her jump.

  “I’ve always hated thunderstorms,” she confessed, hugging herself tightly.

  Luc smiled. “So there is something that scares you.”

  She leaned closer to him. “The only place I thought was safe during a thunderstorm was my bedroom closet. I’d take in my favorite blanket, a flashlight and a book, and stay in there until it was over. But when I was little, my mother would come in and tell me stories. She hated thunder just as much as I did, but I never knew it back then. What did your mother do during storms?” she asked.

  The distance between them could have been a million miles.

  “You don’t remember your mother, do you,” Celeste said. “That’s why you try to push me away when I ask about her.”

  He laughed harshly. “It’s not easy to remember someone when they abandoned you after they gave birth to you.”

  “Oh, Luc.” His name turned into a sigh.

  He shook his head. “Rumor has it she was a teen living on the streets. I was always told I was better off without her.”

  “But you don’t think so,” she guessed.

  “It’s not a question that I’ll ever have an answer to,” Luc said.

  Celeste leaned over and cupped his cheek with her palm.

  “Do you hate her?” she asked.

  “You can’t hate someone you’ve never known,” he pointed out. “Please, Celeste, I really would rather not talk about it.” He moved his face so that his mouth rested against the curve of her hand. He stared at her as if to see what she would do.

  She saw his unspoken challenge and accepted it. She leaned over that extra inch and replaced her hand with her lips.

  As before, she sensed the coiled tension within him. She wondered what would happen if it were ever replaced. When she started to draw back, he placed his hand against the back of her head and kept her face where it was.

  “Don’t try to make too much of this, Celeste,” he said as his mouth moved against hers. “You’d only get hurt in the end.”

  “No matter what you say, I don’t think you’d ever hurt me.” She kissed him again, the touch light and fleeting.

  When Luc deepened the kiss, she melted against him. She arched against him as his hand rested lightly against her breast.

  “Luc,” she whispered.

  “What?” His mouth was a heated brand against the curve of her neck.

  She felt her lips curve upward. “Nothing.”

  Anything else she might have said was halted by the swift descent of his mouth on hers. Celeste felt as if she was drowning in the man. She didn’t need oxygen, because he provided it. She didn’t need sustenance. Only him. She tried to murmur his name again as she twisted to get even closer to him.

  The clap of thunder overhead literally shook the car. The booming sound seemed to echo in their ears even afterward.

  They parted and looked at each other. Both were breathing hard.

  “I’m not taking that as some sign we should stop,” she told him.

  “We’re not exactly somewhere private,” Luc reminded her. He looked out the rain-streaked window. “It looks like it’s let up some. We should be all right on the road.” He put the car in gear.

  Celeste was amazed how quickly he brought himself under control, while she was still quivering. She wondered what it would take to get him to fully drop his defenses and leave them dropped. She was ready to think of that as another challenge.

  “Would you mind if I put on some music?” Luc asked as he turned out of the parking lot.

  She smiled at him. “Not at all.”

  He turned on the CD player. Soft, soulful jazz poured out of the speakers. Celeste felt something deep inside her stir. She’d never considered music sexual, but there was something about this that affected her. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes as she opened her mind and allowed the music to wash over her.

  Sensua
l images danced before her. Luc’s hands were hot against her face. His mouth was a searing heat against her lips while his body moved seductively against hers. What they’d just experienced was only a portent of what was to come.

  Her eyes popped open and she tried to catch her breath.

  There was no mistaking the heaviness in her breasts or the heat that settled deep within her belly. The images in her mind had been so sharp that her body had automatically responded.

  As surely as the sun rose in the east, she knew the time would come when Luc Dante would make love to her. And when that time came, she knew she would welcome him.

  She also knew that once they made love she would never be the same again.

  Luc drove along the highway only half listening to the music. What caught his attention were the soft sounds of Celeste’s breathing as she dozed.

  Her revelation earlier that day gave him insight into why she was so passionate about her work. He’d wondered why someone with her privileged background wanted to devote her lift to such a dark area of police work. He was sure some would say that working homicide was just as dark, but he knew there were monsters out there that preferred inflicting pain to inflicting death. He knew only too well what happened in a household where money might be tight and tempers hot. He’d endured more than his share of beatings as a child, until he’d grown and been able to leave his tormentors.

  He’d labeled the lady stubborn. Now he knew there was more to it. She had a core of pure steel, and he admired her for it.

  Luc sensed that if anyone could find Prince Charming it would be Celeste Bradshaw. He only hoped it would happen before he fell any further.

  She was beautiful to his eyes, but she was dangerous to his well-being. He was already caring too much for her.

  He’d also heard rumors she was digging into his background.

  Once she found out exactly who, and what, he was, he knew she would look upon him in revulsion and walk away before she was likewise tainted.

  He knew the feeling only too well. It had happened once before when he’d let his guard down.

  After that, he had vowed he wouldn’t allow it to happen again. That vow had been easier to keep before he met Celeste.

  Chapter 13