Key of Knowledge k-2

by Nora Roberts

  And they would make her feel powerful.

  She checked herself in the mirror—front, back, sides. “Oh, yeah, I look just fine. Eat your heart out, Hawke.”

  She picked up the dress shed laid on the bed. It looked deceptively simple, one long, fluid line of black. But when you put a body into it, everything changed.

  She slipped it on, gave it a few tugs, then did another turn before the mirror.

  The scoop neck took on a whole new dimension when there were breasts filling it out, rising teasingly over the edge. The column turned seductive when the slightest movement parted that long side slit and revealed the length of leg.

  She slipped on her shoes, delighted that the stiletto heels added three inches to her already impressive height. Shed never been sensitive about being tall. She liked it.

  She hadZoe to thank for the hair. Shed done it sleek and loose, with a little jeweled clip anchored between the crown and the tip of her left ear. Just another tease, Dana mused. The clip didnt do anything but sit there and sparkle.

  She dabbed perfume at her collarbone, in the valley between her breasts, at her wrists. Then tossed her head. “You are a dead man, pal. You are meat.”

  It occurred to her that she was actually looking forward to the evening. It had been weeks since shed dressed herself up for a date. Plus, she had to admit she was curious. How would Jordan handle himself? How, for that matter, would they handle each other? She wondered what it would be like to be with him, within the ritual of a date, now that they were man and woman rather than boy and girl.

  It was, she had to admit, exciting. Particularly exciting since she was certain he intended to win her over and she had no intention of being won.

  She leaned toward the mirror, slid murderous red on her lips, then dropped the tube of lipstick in her purse. She pressed her lips together, opened them again with a cocky little pop. “Let the games begin.”

  When Jordan knocked at exactly seven-thirty, she couldnt have scripted his reaction any more perfectly.

  His eyes widened, blurred. She actually saw the pulse in his throat jump. Then he fisted a hand and rapped it twice against his own heart as if to get it started again.

  “Youre trying to hurt me, arent you?”

  She angled her head. “Absolutely. Howd I do?”

  “Kill shot. Am I drooling?”

  Now she grinned and turned back inside to get her coat. He stepped in behind her, leaned down and sniffed. “If I whimper, try to…” He trailed off as he saw the books. Piles and stacks of them beside the sofa, another stack on the coffee table, a sea of them on her dining table.

  “Jesus Christ, Dane, you need treatment.”

  “Theyre not just for reading, not that theres anything wrong with that. Theyre for work and for research. Im playing an angle on the key and Im preparing to open a bookstore.”

  She slipped into the coat, trying not to be miffed that he now appeared to be more interested in the books than in how incredible she looked.

  “ The Key to Rebecca, Key Witness, A House Without a Key . I see where youre going here. The Key to Sexual Fulfillment ?” He sent her a long, smirking look.

  “Shut up. Are we going to eat?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Youve got your work cut out for you.” He crouched down, began flipping through pages. “You want me to take some of these?”

  “Ive already split the load with Malory andZoe .” She knew hed start reading in a moment; he wouldnt be able to help himself. In that area, they were identical twins.

  “Thats enough. Hungry here.”

  “What else is new?” He set a book back on a tower of its fellows, straightened and took another good long look at her. “Wowzer.”

  “Aw, thats so sweet. Are we going?”

  He moved to the door to open it for her. “Wheres Moe?”

  “Romping in the park with his best friend. Flynns dropping him off before he goes home. Where are we eating?”

  “Just get in the car, Miss One Track Mind. Youll get fed. Hows the painting brigade doing?” he asked once she was settled and he was behind the wheel.

  “We rock. Seriously. I cant get over how much were getting done. And I have the body aches to prove it.”

  “Anything you want me to rub, just let me know.”

  “Thats a kind and selfless offer, Jordan.”

  “Just the kind of guy I am.”

  She crossed her legs, making sure the move was slow and parted the slit of her dress well up to her thigh. “But I have Chris to take care of that for me.”

  His gaze traveled down, all the way to the sharp heel of her shoe, then back up again. “Chris?” He didnt snarl it, but he wanted to.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And whos Chris?”

  “A very talented massage therapist with magic hands.” She stretched, as if under those magic hands, and added a quiet little moan. Oh, yes, she thought at the quick hitch of Jordans breathing, she had entirely new weaponry to aim at him this time around.

  “A recommendation fromZoe ,” she added. “Zoesgoing to offer a variety of treatments in the salon.”

  “And would that be Christine or Christopher?”

  She shrugged. “I got a neck and shoulder treatment this afternoon, a kind of audition. Chris passed with flying colors.” She frowned when he zoomed past the town limits. “Were not eating in town?”

  He couldnt breathe without breathing whatever shed doused herself in to drive him crazy. And by the way, he thought, in case hed forgotten she had legs that went all the way to her ears, she was going out of her way to remind him.

  If his voice was a bit tight, there were good reasons for it. “Im feeding you and paying the bill. Venues my pick.”

  “It better be worthy of my outfit and my appetite, or youll be paying more than the bill.”

  “I remember your appetites.” He ordered himself to relax. She might be playing a hell of a game, but he hadnt come up to bat yet. “So tell me, what is the key to sexual fulfillment?”

  “Read the book. You tell me, what pops into your head when you think of „key when it comes to literature?”

  “Locked-door mysteries.” “Hmm. Could be another angle. How about goddess, other than in mythology?”

  “Your femme fatale character. Like the mystery woman in The Maltese Falcon .”

  “How is she a goddess?”

  “She has the power to weave spells over a man, with sex, beauty, and lies.”

  “Huh.” Deliberately, she skimmed her fingers down the long curve of her hair. “Not bad. Something to think about.” As she did, she lost track of direction and time. It was nearly eight when she brought herself back and blinked at the big white house tucked into the hillside.

  Batter up, Jordan thought as he saw her eyes go wide.

  “Lucianos?” Her jaw dropped. “It takes a congressional edict to get a reservation atLucianos this time of year. You have to book weeks in advance out of season, but in October you cant get in even by donating blood.”

  “Youll only have to give them a pint.” He climbed out, tossed his keys to the valet.

  “Ive always wanted to eat here. Way out of my league.”

  “I tried to get us in for your birthday once. They didnt laugh at me, but it was close.”

  “You couldnt have afforded to…” She trailed off, and couldnt help but go togoo inside. It was just the sort of thing hed have done, she remembered. Unexpectedly, recklessly done. “It was a nice thought,” she told him and kissed his cheek.

  “This time I pulled it off.” He shocked her speechless by lifting her hand to his lips. “Happy birthday. Better late than never.”

  “Youre being charming. Why are you being charming?”

  “It goes with your outfit.” And still holding her hand, he led her up the steps.

  The restaurant had once been the mountain getaway of a Pittsburgh family of some wealth and influence. Dana didnt know if it qualified as a mansion, but it certainly met all the requirements for villa wi
th its columns and balconies and porticos.

  The grounds were lovely, and in spring and summer, even early fall, alfresco dining was offered in the courtyard so patrons could enjoy the gardens and the views along with a superbly prepared meal.

  The interior had been restored, and maintained the elegance and ambience of a well-appointed home.

  The entrance hall offered marble floors, Italian art, and cozy seating areas. Dana barely had time to absorb the light, the color, before the maitre d hurried over to greet them.

  “Mr. Hawke, were so pleased you could join us this evening. Signorina , welcome toLucianos . Your tables ready if youd like to be seated. Or if you prefer Ill have you shown into our lounge.”

  “The ladys hungry, so well take the table, thanks.”

  “Of course. Shall I take your wrap?”

  “Sure.”

  But Jordan beat the maitre d, and with a trail of fingertips along her shoulders, slipped her coat off. It was whisked away, and they were led up the grand staircase and into what she realized was a private room already prepared with a single table for two.

  A waiter materialized with champagne.

  “As you requested,” the maitre d said. “Is this suitable for your evening?”

  “Its perfect,” Jordan told him.

  “ Bene . If you wish for anything, you have only to ask. Please, enjoy. Buonappetite .”

  He slipped away, leaving them alone.

  “When you pull it off,” Dana said after a moment, “you really pull it off.”

  “No point in doing things halfway.” He lifted his glass, tapped it gently against hers. “To moments. Past, present, future.”

  “That seems safe enough to drink to.” She sipped. “Jeez. You know what old Dom meant about drinking stars when he had his first sip of the bubbly stuff.” She took another sip, then studied him over the rim. “Okay, Im impressed. Youre quite the big cheese these days, arent you, Mr. Hawke?”

  “Maybe, but its more knowing to use what works. And the local boy who makes good can usually get a table at a restaurant.”

  She looked around the room, so softly lit, so private, so romantic.

  There were flowers and candles, not only on the table but on the antique server, on the long, carved buffet. The room smelled of both of them, and music—something soft with weeping violins—drifted through the air.

  A low fire burned in a black marble hearth, more candles, more flowers on the mantelpiece above it. A wide scalloped mirror reflected off it, creating a strong sense of intimacy.

  “Some table,” she said at length.

  “I wanted to be alone with you. Dont spoil it,” he said, and covered her hand with his before she could move it out of reach. “Its just dinner, Stretch.”

  “Nothings just in a place like this.”

  He turned her hand over, ran his finger down the center of her palm while he watched her face. “Then let me try my hand at romancing you. Just for one evening. I could start by telling you that just looking at you right now almost stops my heart.”

  Hers did a quick bounce, and then went thud . “Youre pretty good at it, for a beginner.”

  “Sit tight. Ill get better.”

  She didnt tug her hand away. It seemed wrong, a small, mean gesture when hed gone to such trouble to give her something special. “Its not going to mean anything, Jordan. Were in different places than we were.”

  “Seems to me were both right here. Why dont we relax and enjoy it?” He nodded to the waiter stationed discreetly just outside the room. “You said you were hungry.”

  She took the offered menu. “Youve got that one right.”

  * * *

  IT would, Dana discovered, take considerable effort and a great deal of determination not to relax and enjoy. And it would be mean-spirited. He might have cornered her into the date, but hed gone out of his way to make it a memorable, even magical one.

  Then there was the fact that, by his own terms, he was romancing her. That was something new. As long as theyd been together, as much as theyd meant to each other, old-fashioned romance had never been particularly a part of their relationship.

  Oh, hed certainly been capable of sweetness, if he was in the mood. And surprise. But no one, not even the most sympathetic, would ever have called the Jordan Hawke she remembered smooth or traditionally romantic.

  Then again, shed bleed his edges. Theyd attracted her and theyd aroused her.

  Still, she wasnt about to complain about being courted for one evening by a charming, entertaining man who seemed intent on providing her with a dream date. “Tell me what you want for the bookstore.“

  She took another bite of truly incredible sea bass. “How much time do you have?”

  “All you need.”

  “Well, first I want it to be accessible. The kind of place people feel free to stroll into, just browse around, maybe settle in for a while and read. But at the same time, I dont want them to treat it like their private library. What I want to establish is the neighborhood bookstore, where customer service is the priority, where people like to gather.”

  “I wonder why no one ever tried that in the heart of the Valley before.”

  “Im trying not to think about that,” she admitted. “If no one did, there might be a good reason.”

  “They werent you,” he said simply. “What else are you after? Are you shooting for general stock, or are you going to specialize?”

  “General. I want a lot of variety, but I worked in the library long enough to know what people in this area lean toward. So certain sections—romance, mystery, local interest—will outweigh some of the more esoteric titles. I want to coordinate with the local schools, know what teachers are assigning, and see if I can get at least one book club formed within the first six months.”

  She picked up her wine. “And thats just for starters. Mal andZoe and I will be working together, and ideally well overlap our customer base. You know, somebody comes in for a book and thinks, Wow, look at that terrific blown-glass vase. Its just perfect for my sisters birthday. Or someones going up toZoes for a haircut and picks up a paperback to read while shes getting done.”

  “Or they come in to look at paintings and decide they could really use a manicure.”

  She toasted him, sipped. “Thats the plan.”

  “Its a good one. The three of you look good together. You fit together, complement each other. Youve all got different styles, but they mesh nicely.”

  “Funny, I was thinking almost exactly that just the other day. Its like if anyone had suggested Id be going into business—putting basically every penny I have on the line—with two women Ive known only about a month, Id have laughed my butt off. But here I am. And its right. Thats one thing Im absolutely sure of.”

  “As far as the bookstore goes, Id bet on you any day of the week.”

  “Save your money. I may have to borrow some before its done. But following along, tell me what you would look for in a good neighborhood bookstore. From a writers perspective.” Like Dana, he sat back, a signal to the waiter to clear. “You called me a writer without any derogatory adjectives.”

  “Dont get cocky. Im just maintaining the mood of the evening.”

  “Then lets order dessert and coffee, and Ill tell you.”

  * * *

  BY the time they were done, she was wishing shed brought a notebook. He was good, she had to give him that. He touched on aspects she hadnt thought of, expanded on others that she had.

  When they spoke of books themselves, she realized how much shed missed that perk. Having someone who shared her absolute devotion to stories. To devouring and dissecting them, to savoring and wallowing in them.

  “Its a nice night,” he said as he helped her to her feet. “Why dont we walk around the grounds before we drive back?”

  “Is that your way of saying that I ate so much I need to walk it off?”

  “No. Its my way of stretching out the time I have alone with you.”

  “You re
ally have gotten better at this,” she replied as he led her from the room.

  Her coat reappeared nearly as quickly as it had been whisked away. And, she noted, Jordan didnt miss a beat when themartre d presented one of his books and asked to have it signed.

  He did that well, too, she thought. He kept it light, friendly, added some casual chatter and his thanks for the evening.

  “How does it feel?” she asked when theyd stepped outside. “When someone asks you to sign a book?”

  “A hell of a lot better than it does if they dont give a damn.”

  “No, seriously. Dont brush the question off. Whats it like?”

  “Satisfying.” Absently, he smoothed down the collar of her coat. “Flattering. Surprising. Unless theyve got a crazed look in their eye and an unpublished manuscript under their arm.”

  “Does that happen?”

  “Often enough. But mostly it just feels good. Hey, heres somebody whos read my stuff, or is about to. And they think itd be cool if I signed it.” He shrugged. “Whats not good about that?” “Thats not very temperamental of you.”

  “Im not a temperamental guy.”

  She snorted. “You always used to be.”

  “You used to be argumentative and pigheaded.” He smiled broadly when she scowled at him. “See how weve changed?”

  “Im just going to let that go, because Ive had a really good time.” She breathed deep as they wandered a bricked path, and looked up at the thick slice of waxing moon. “Into week two,” she murmured.

  “Youre doing fine, Stretch.”

  She shook her head. “I dont feel like Im getting to the meat of it. Not yet. The days are going by really fast. Im not panicked or anything,” she added quickly, “but Ive got serious concerns. So much is depending on me. People I care about. Im afraid Ill let them down. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes. Youre not alone in this. The brunt may be on you, but youre not carrying all the weight.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, drew her toward him a little, until her body rested against his. “I want to help you, Dana.”

  She fit well with him. She always had. And her realization of that made little warning bells sound in some dim part of her brain. “We already know youre connected, somehow or other.”