A Stranger's Wife

by Paige Phillips

  “No wonder the gates wouldn’t open. The fuses must have blown,” Jake said. “Can’t be a power outage, because the lights on the road were on. But why hasn’t Mason or somebody taken care of this?”

  He drove past the house to the detached eight-car garage, got out of the Jeep and raised one of the doors by hand, then returned to the car and drove inside.

  “After I’ve taken care of the fuse switches, we can enter the house from here. Will you turn off the headlights after I find the fuse box?”

  Meg remained in the Jeep as he went to the nearest wall and raised a metal lid, then began to flip up a row of switches. An overhead garage light came on. She turned off the Jeep’s headlights and got out.

  “I can’t imagine what Mason and the staff are doing in there in the dark, or why the security system going out didn’t alert the police,” Jake said as he led the way to an interior door.

  Meg clutched his arm. “Jake, you don’t think...could this be an ambush?”

  He hesitated, one hand on the door handle. “Why don’t you wait here while I check it out?”

  Meg shivered. “I’d rather stay with you, if you don’t mind. I don’t suppose you have a weapon of any kind, do you?”

  “Not on me,” Jake muttered.

  Opening the door, he stepped inside, and Meg followed. They were in a long corridor. Jake led the way to a door at the far end of the corridor, pulled it ajar and listened.

  Silence.

  He pushed the door wide-open, and Meg saw that they were in the kitchen. Lights had come on, but there was no sign of activity, no sound. Not only that, but Meg noticed at once that all of the surfaces—counters, tables, chopping blocks—had been cleared. There was no sign of any food, and even spice racks and canisters had been removed. The total effect suggested a vacant house.

  Meg whispered, “Could they all have gone to bed?”

  Jake glanced at a clock on the wall. “At ten past ten? Hardly.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone left a note attached to the refrigerator with a magnet?” Meg suggested in an attempt at levity.

  Jake walked over to an intercom panel on one of the walls, pushed a button and said, “Mason? Are you there?”

  After a few seconds he tried several of the other buttons. There was no response.

  He looked at Meg. “Did you ever read the story of a ship found drifting at sea where the whole crew had vanished without a trace?”

  “Yes, it was the Marie Celeste, I believe,” Meg said.

  “I have a feeling we’re going to find the same situation here, except I don’t see any half-finished meals. I’ll check the rest of the house.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Jake flooded the house with light as they walked from room to room. Silence, complete and eerie, accompanied them.

  It seemed obvious that the entire house was deserted, from the servants’ wing to the family quarters. After they finished checking the bedrooms they walked back down the stairs.

  “There’s just the main dining room left—might as well look there, too, I guess,” Jake said. “Maybe Mason and the others will all pop out and yell, ‘Surprise!’”

  He opened double doors, and Meg gasped at the size of the room, which she hadn’t seen before. Beneath glittering crystal chandeliers, a long table was flanked by beautifully carved antique chairs. Massive sideboards stood laden with gleaming silver and gold dishes, a gigantic Renaissance tapestry adorned one wall, and on another she saw a Renoir and a Cézanne. There were two enormous fireplaces, side tables holding priceless-looking vases and statuettes, even sanctuary benches and monks’ leaning chairs that surely had once graced ancient cathedrals.

  But the vast room—almost the size of an auditorium—was deserted.

  Seeing Meg’s reaction, Jake said drily, “Rhea wanted to turn this place into another Hearst castle—she admired how he looted most of the cities of Europe for the treasures he used to furnish that monstrosity up the coast. I gave her free rein, and in retrospect, realized I hadn’t paid enough attention to her grandiose decorating ideas.”

  “It’s...awesome,” Meg managed to say.

  “Personally, I don’t care for antiques, but Rhea seemed to get such pleasure from acquiring all this stuff...” His voice trailed away as he stood for a moment, contemplating the furnishings that Meg estimated had to be worth a king’s ransom.

  She cleared her throat awkwardly. “She has very good taste.”

  Jake smiled. “Do you always find something positive to say?”

  “Not always,” Meg said. “Where do you suppose Mason and all the others have gone?”

  “More to the point, why have they gone?” Jake mused. “Come on, let’s go back to Mason’s study. He’ll have home phone numbers for the staff.”

  Back in the servants’ wing they entered a paneled room filled with modern office furniture, including a computer and fax machine. Jake went to the desk and reached for a card index, then picked up the phone.

  There was evidently no answer at the first couple of numbers he called, then on the third, he said, “¿Eduardo? ¿Hola, como está?” Reverting to English, he continued, “This is Jake Chastain. I’m at the house. Where is everybody?”

  After a pause Jake said, “I see. Yes, all right. Tell me, do you know how to get hold of Mason? No, don’t bother, call him in the morning. Tell him to round up the rest of the staff and come back tomorrow. It’s all a misunderstanding.”

  Replacing the receiver, Jake looked at Meg and said grimly, “It seems Rhea arrived early this afternoon and told everybody she had found an infestation of insects and was going to have the house fumigated. She ordered them all to leave, and to stay away until she sent for them. She also called the security company and told them to deactivate the system because fogging the house with pesticide would set it off.”

  Meg swallowed. “Jake...I think we ought to get out of here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Damn it, I’m not going to be run out of my own house,” Jake said. “But I am going to call Dan and have him get somebody over here to drive you to a hotel for the night.”

  “No,” Meg said quickly. “I’d rather stay here with you. I couldn’t stand not knowing what’s going on. Do you mind?”

  “I’d be glad of the company, if you’re sure you want to stay. I don’t know what Rhea’s up to, but the first thing I’m going to do is call the security company and reactivate the system. Then I’ll check all the doors and windows. Believe me, nobody is going to get in here unannounced.”

  “How about I go to the kitchen and make dinner?” Meg said. “We never did get any.”

  Jake smiled. “The way to a man’s heart...”

  “Don’t go there,” Meg cautioned. “My only motive is my own hunger.”

  Meg again felt like the proverbial kid in the candy store, having the well-equipped kitchen and super-stocked pantry to herself. Before leaving, the staff had put away all exposed food items, in anticipation of fumigation, and had tightly sealed the cabinets in the pantry. Rhea must have been very convincing. It was difficult to imagine what her motivation for such action could have been.

  Meg prepared an appetizer of prawns with white-bean-and-pimiento salad, and because of the lateness of the hour decided to forgo any nightmare-inducing serious protein in favor of a main course of penne with wild mushrooms and a sauce of her own invention.

  By the time Jake came to see how she was progressing, she was putting little chocolate pecan tarts in the oven. The fudgy tartlets had been quick and easy to make in a food processor and would bake in fifteen minutes.

  “Could we eat in here?” Meg asked, indicating a large scrubbed wood table where the kitchen staff probably had their meals. “I need to keep an eye on the oven.”

  “Sure. I’ll set the table.”

  Meg didn’t let on that she was surprised he knew exactly where to find cutlery and dishes. She just checked to see if the penne was done.

  When she took the appeti
zers to the table she found Jake had set out a bottle of champagne. She turned the bottle and whistled softly under her breath. “This is serious bubbly, Jake...a 1990 vintage Moët et Chandon’s flagship Cuvée Dom Pérignon, I’m impressed, but I don’t think you should open it. We need to keep our wits about us.”

  “I’ve double-checked every possible means of entering the house, Meg, and the security system is activated. The smoke alarms and sprinkler systems are all in order. Short of installing a moat and drawbridge, there’s not much else I can do to keep out intruders.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the danger from intruders,” Meg murmured pointedly.

  His dark eyes gleamed. “Ah, I see. How about just one glass?” He produced two flutes.

  “Not for me,” Meg said firmly, hoping he couldn’t read her mind. I don’t trust myself with you, and how can you be so oblivious to how attractive you are? I want to unbutton your shirt and run my hands all over your chest.

  She turned away quickly as her thoughts brought hot color to her face.

  Jake sighed and removed the bottle and glasses. “What will you have to drink? Cider, milk, juice, tea?”

  “I’ve a pitcher of ice water ready. I thought I’d make hot chocolate with dessert, in view of how late it is.”

  They sat down to eat beneath the glaring kitchen lights in the eerie silence of the deserted house. Jake watched her intently. “This feels right, Meg. You and me, together.” His hand slid across the table and covered hers. The gesture was so tender that she wanted to weep.

  He said, “Someday I’d like to bring the champagne and candlelight and dine on food you’ve prepared.”

  “Jake,” Meg said, steeling herself to withstand the warmth of his touch, “when this little drama is concluded, we have to go our separate ways. In fact, I think if your people haven’t found Rhea and Sloan by tomorrow, I should go home then.”

  “Despite the fact that if we separate and I get hit, you may be framed?”

  “We don’t know for sure that’s what they’re planning. But even if it is, they’d have to be certain I didn’t have an iron-clad alibi for the time of the hit. Since I work long hours, with lots of other people, that would be tricky.”

  “And do you sleep with lots of other people, or would you be alone at night?”

  “Well...”

  “I can’t keep you with me against your will, Meg, but if you must go back to your own life, at least let me send a’ man I can trust with you, and put you up in a hotel.”

  Meg blinked away a vision of herself showing up to cater a wedding or bar mitzvah with a bodyguard in tow. “No, that’s out of the question.”

  She rose to take the tartlets out of the oven, and Jake sniffed the aroma appreciatively.

  When she sat down again, he said, “The condemned man ate a hearty meal.”

  “Please don’t joke about it.”

  “Sorry. The food is terrific, by the way. Thank you.”

  Meg had lost her appetite. He was right, there was an aching sense of finality about the meal.

  “I thought rich people had bodyguards,” she said after a while.

  “I’ve never felt the need for one.”

  “Before now, you mean. Jake, will you please hire one? If anything happens to you, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

  He leaned forward. “Would it matter to you that much?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “How much, Meg? Tell me.”

  “No, we can’t talk about this. Not now. Not ever. Just—please hire someone to watch your back.”

  It was a little after eleven when they stacked the dishes in the sink. Jake asked, “Are you tired? Do you want to turn in, or could we spend another hour together?”

  “I think I’m too wound up to sleep yet,” Meg answered.

  “Then I have the ideal solution. Come with me.”

  He took her to the room she had dubbed the “music room,” and proceeded to roll up a beautiful Persian rug, revealing a hardwood floor. At the touch of his finger, the room was filled with the slow and sensual music of the tango. Turning, he extended his hand to her.

  “Jake, you know I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. I’m going to teach you.”

  She hesitated, and he said, “If you think I’m suggesting we dance just so I’ll have an excuse to hold you in my arms...”

  Meg walked toward him; he took her right hand in his and slipped his arm around her waist. When they were in position he grinned and finished the thought. “...you’re probably right.”

  Before she could respond, he went on, “I’m going to lead by guiding you with this hand, and by subtle pressure on your back with my other hand. You’re going to start with your right foot—two long, slow steps backward, then two short quick steps to the side. Listen to the music, pause when the music pauses. Above all, relax. Now listen... two, three, four...”

  “I don’t think I can—”

  To Meg’s surprise, she found that she could.

  Jake held her close, his lead firm and sure, and the music seemed to speak to her. She forgot about her feet and gave herself up to the magic of being held in Jake’s arms, moving with him in strange and exotic ways to the hypnotic beat of the tango.

  When the music ended Meg found herself bent backward over Jake’s arm, his face close to hers, his mouth a breath away. The question in his dark eyes was unmistakable, and the pressure of his hands sent a warm tingling radiating throughout her body.

  Every instinct she possessed fought to override rational thought. Oh, how she wanted to be swept away by passion, to put aside every constraint, every qualm. But she had never been one to break the rules, and she knew that if she made love to Jake, she would never be able to forgive herself. Or him.

  His lips brushed hers lightly.

  “No...” Meg whispered, “Don’t...”

  “I’m falling in love with you, Meg. With you, not simply with your beauty, but with your essence, your decency and honesty.”

  She managed to pull away. “I haven’t been honest with you, Jake. I deceived you. I pretended to be your wife.”

  “You thought you’d agreed to a harmless weekend masquerade and that you and I would never meet. Instead you were caught in the jaws of a trap that kept clicking tighter around you. Meg, tell me you feel some attraction toward me. Tell me I’m not imagining this electricity we’re generating.”

  “I can’t tell you that. I don’t have the right.” You’re my sister’s husband.

  She turned and ran from the room, stumbling in her haste to get up the stairs to the bedroom so she could be alone and away from the greatest temptation she had ever faced.

  The music followed her and she realized the entire house was wired for sound. She covered her ears to shut out the insistent siren call of the tango, and wished she could close her mind to the memory of being in Jake’s arms.

  She didn’t lock the bedroom door. She knew there was no need.

  Above the fireplace, regarding her mockingly, was Rhea’s portrait.

  WHEN MEG WENT downstairs the following morning she heard Jake’s forceful voice addressing someone outside.

  “No, you are not going to tent the house. I’m the owner and I’m telling you that I have not authorized fumigation. Now take your men and your equipment, and leave. Send me a bill for your time and trouble.”

  Meg went into the kitchen and was about to reach for the coffee maker when the phone rang. Since she was alone in the house, she picked it up and said, “Hello?”

  A strange male voice, speaking barely above a whisper, said, “Meg Lindley?”

  The phone almost slipped from her hand. “Who is this?”

  “Aragon.”

  Meg felt a chill ripple down her spine. “Mike?”

  “His brother. Listen carefully. I’ve just checked Mike’s stuff and found something you’d better see. Don’t tell anybody I called—especially not Chastain. If you do, you could be in big trouble. Can you meet me this eve
ning? Eight sharp. Alone. Just you. I see anybody else, I’m gone.”

  “I’m leaving here today. Besides, you’re just a voice on the phone,” Meg said. “Why should I believe—”

  “Meet me at the same coffee shop where you met my brother when he first approached you about the gig in St. Maarten. The fact that I know where that is proves I’m not lying. Remember, come alone and don’t tell Chastain. Your life depends on it.”

  There was a click and the line went dead.

  Meg was still holding the phone when Jake came into the house. For a moment his eyes locked with hers, searching for something he evidently didn’t find.

  “Hope that commotion outside didn’t wake you,” he said. “My dear wife evidently thought it would be amusing to send in a whole crew of exterminators. Was that Mason on the phone?”

  Making a split-second decision, Meg decided to keep quiet about the identity of the caller. She had all day to think about whether or not to meet him in Los Angeles. The big question was, what had Mike’s brother found? He knew her name, knew where she and Mike had gone to talk that night. Mike had been murdered. His effects would probably be given to his next of kin. Could he have left something incriminating? Against her? Against Jake?

  “Did you just go somewhere?” Jake asked.

  She said, “No, it wasn’t Mason on the phone. It was a wrong number. Have you had breakfast?”

  He hesitated for a moment before answering, and she wondered if her lie had been obvious. Then he said, “You do realize how much I’m going to miss you if you decide to leave?”

  “Speaking of which,” Meg said carefully, “I really do need to check on my house and my job with the caterer. I’ll rent a car and drive up to L.A.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “No—thanks. I’d rather go on my own.”

  “Please reconsider having one of my security people go with you then.”

  “I have to go alone. My neighbors and my boss would wonder why I need a bodyguard. I have to resume my former life, Jake. I have to get back to normal.”

  Jake’s brow puckered into a worried frown. “I can’t order you, of course, but—”