His eyes softened as he touched her. "I don't know how you can love me after the way I treated you, but I'm so relieved you do, my darling, because without you my life is black and white."
Joyfully, passionately, and with all the colors in her heart, Jamie gave herself to the man she loved.
The End
Page forward for excerpts
from Vanessa Grant's
Seeing Stars
and
If You Loved Me
Excerpt from
Seeing Stars
by
Vanessa Grant
Chapter 1
Claire Welland slipped out the side door of the observatory, pausing to watch as pre-dawn gray seeped into the night sky.
"Star light, star bright," she'd chanted as a child, until her father gently corrected her. "Venus is a planet, sweetheart. Come outside and I'll show you the stars."
The stars were gone now, but the coming night would be the first of her four nights off. With clear skies forecast, she would search the sky with her own eight-inch telescope, although she knew the lens wasn't powerful enough to pick out the new comet between Orion's belt and his sword—the comet she'd discovered.
So ironic that the heavens' secrets were revealed in the building behind her, in a control room filled with computer monitors and instruments. She'd found the comet three weeks ago under windowless artificial light, staring at a monitor of the sky, herself hidden from the stars while the observatory's telescope searched.
Her first comet.
She hugged the pleasure to herself as she walked down the hill to the small house where Jennifer would be waiting. Jennifer was a novelist married to the observatory's senior technician, and over the past few months she and Claire had fallen into the habit of having breakfast together after Claire's night shifts.
When she arrived, Jennifer had just finished nursing her three-month-old baby.
"I'll burp her," Claire offered.
While Jenn made coffee and cracked eggs for omelets, Claire put the baby to her shoulder and gently rubbed Tammy's back. She was rewarded with a loud burp.
"Good baby," she crooned, enjoying the soft baby breath against her cheek. She watched Tammy's eyes droop, then felt the baby curve against her breast, sagging into instant sleep.
"You should have your own baby."
"No way," said Claire. "I'm not marrying a man just to get a child."
"There are other reasons." Jenn grinned. "Love, lust, friendship—"
"Hmm. Did you enjoy Tucson last night?"
"A whole evening without diapers. Fantastic—and I got an idea for my next book. I'm going to make some notes while Tammy's napping. What about you? Did you have a good night?"
"Really good, despite the telescope being down. I spent most of the night sorting through my in-basket and cleaning up old E-mails." She shifted the pleasant weight of the baby against her, wishing she could have her own, knowing it was neither sensible nor realistic. "I got an invitation to interview for the CTIO job, plus an invitation to my fifteen-year high school reunion in Port Townsend this July. Best of all, I got three confirmations on the comet. It looks like it really is my comet." She wished she could pick up the phone and call her father, feel his pleasure and pride. He'd died almost a year ago, but she still missed him.
" So you can go to the reunion to celebrate your comet."
She smiled at the idea, wondering what her high school class would make of her, fifteen years later, and what she'd make of them.
"I'll celebrate by buying a new lens for my telescope," she decided.
"Isn't Port Townsend that little place at the entrance to Puget Sound? Pacific Ocean, boats, old Victorian homes?"
"That's the place, but I'm not going." Her high school years had been painfully shy and she had no desire to revisit them.
Jennifer had a faraway look, as if she'd begun plotting one of her books. "July's perfect. You're on holidays, and my parents have a share of a luxury resort on Discovery Bay—that's close to Port Townsend, isn't it? I can get you a week there for next to nothing. They've got this bonus point system, and Mom's always offering us time. You'll go to the reunion, celebrate your comet. Even better, find the town bad boy and have a flaming affair. He's bound to be either divorced or single."
"You're crazy." The town bad boy....
"I'm talking sense, it just sounds crazy." Jennifer flipped the omelet. "It's bad enough that you're hidden away on a mountain in Arizona, but now you're planning to interview for CTIO. You're in danger of spending the rest of your life locked up in an observatory in South America. Go to your reunion first, have a fling."
"I have better things—"
"You wouldn't want to marry the guy you lusted after in high school, but an affair would be perfect."
"What makes you think I lusted after anyone?" Claire fought off an image of herself staring up into Blake McKenzie's black eyes... the fantasy of Blake's full lips coming down over hers, hard and dangerous... then soft and seductive.
"It's time you had some real excitement, Claire. Not stars, not telescopes. Down to earth human excitement. Sex."
"I'm an astronomer. I do stars, not affairs. I haven't had an affair since grad school. I'm too busy."
Jennifer delivered the omelet to a plate and placed it in front of Claire. "Tell me about the town bad boy."
Blake McKenzie, the boy who'd filled her teenage fantasies. Fifteen years after high school graduation, Blake would still be motorcycles and fast women, while Claire was quiet conversations and lonely mountaintops.
Not lonely, she corrected.
"There had to be a bad boy," insisted Jennifer, "You know the one. Every girl wanted him; parents had nightmares about him."
"Blake McKenzie," Claire admitted. "Black hair, black eyes, a killer smile and a very bad reputation. He never looked at me. Well, once. I walked into Chem class and tripped on something. He picked me up."
Her books had gone flying everywhere and he'd grabbed her arms with hard, callused hands.
"Watch where you're going," he'd growled, his voice vibrating in her chest.
She'd been flustered, speechless, staring up into eyes so black she thought she stood breathless under the heavens, trying to find just one more star in an inky black sky.
She'd been such a nerd during her high school years in Port Townsend, her eyes permanently focused on a book, uncomfortable when she looked up to find the world filled with complicated social rites: Blake McKenzie leaning over Lydia's locker, right next to Claire's... his face so close to Lydia's, shoulders sheltering her body, Lydia teasing him with her eyes, lips parted as if to sample an exotic chocolate.
Claire shook off the past and said firmly, "I'm not going to the reunion, and I'm certainly not having an affair with Blake McKenzie."
Chapter 2
Five minutes after entering Manresa Castle, Claire knew she shouldn't have come. She certainly hadn't intended to when she got the invitation. She'd written a quick, polite refusal, then tossed the invitation in a drawer and fully intended to forget it. She had neither time nor inclination for a high school reunion.
SORRY. I WON'T BE ABLE TO MAKE IT, she'd written, and she should have stuck with that decision—would have stuck with it if Jennifer hadn't been so insistent, making reservations at her parents' luxury resort and presenting them as a fait accompli. If it were anyone but Jenn, Claire would have been furious.
Somehow, inexplicably, she found it impossible to be angry with Jenn. And why not spend a few hours at the reunion? She wasn't a girl, trapped at an endless school dance her father insisted she attend because he was worried she'd become too studious. She was a woman with keys to her own SUV in her purse, the freedom to walk out if she found the whole thing too boring.
If she did walk out, she'd have to explain herself to Jennifer. Which meant that while she was an independent woman, she was also a woman who'd been thoroughly manipulated by her best friend.
She'd never been inside Manre
sa Castle before, but during her four years in Port Townsend, she'd woven a few fantasies around the old hotel on Castle Hill, its turrets and legendary ghosts.
She picked up a pamphlet in the lobby entrance, instructions for a Manresa Castle self-guided tour. She'd always wanted to explore the castle, and hadn't dreamed you could just walk in and do it without paying. Fifteen years ago, she wouldn't have had the nerve, but tomorrow she'd come back and absorb these elegant Victorian rooms. A quiet Saturday morning, perfect for strolling through the castle alone.
WELCOME BACK, announced a big banner strung across the far wall of Manresa's library. According to the pamphlet, the Jesuits had used this room as a choir loft for the chapel. The Jesuits would have been quieter, she decided with an inner smile. They'd have been shocked at tonight's pulsing voices and laughter, at the milling crowd, the short skirts and high heels.
Claire slid the pamphlet into her handbag, glad she'd decided to wear the pale blue dress she'd bought for last year's conference. Crashproof and inconspicuous, the dress would allow her to fade into the background among tonight's finery.
The crowd shifted and pushed her toward the registration table. She didn't recognize anyone.
"Hello," said a low-voiced woman with a sleek, scalp-hugging haircut. "Are you a guest?"
Claire recognized the other woman's eyes and frown.
"Hello, Lydia. I'm Claire Welland. I had the locker next to yours in our senior year."
Lydia's eyes widened. "You've changed."
"No glasses," explained Claire.
Lydia didn't look pleased at the change, although she needn't have worried. Her green dress left no doubt that she hadn't lost the lush, feminine figure that had kept a crowd of boys glued to her all through high school.
Claire filled out the form Lydia handed her, accepted a name tag, and promised herself she'd slip away right after dinner. Lydia was the only person she recognized, and the only thing she'd ever shared with the other woman was a row of lockers. Fifteen years had passed and she hadn't lived here long enough to be close friends with any of these people.
Tonight, the moon would set shortly after midnight, leaving the stars clear and bright. When she got out of here, she would treat herself to an hour with the telescope up on Mount Walker.
* * *
Mac McKenzie ran up the stone stairs of Manresa Castle and yanked open the door. Inside, he recognized Jenny Denver behind the lobby counter, gave her a wave and a smile.
"Mac!" called a husky voice from the library. "You're late!"
Lydia. He greeted her with a light kiss on the cheek.
"You promised you'd help with registration," she complained. "You're hours late. We've already eaten. I kept a seat for you."
That desperate, just-divorced look in Lydia's eye had him stepping back, tempering his motion with a smile. Whatever she thought, she needed a friend more than a lover at this stage.
"Sorry I missed dinner." From the noise filtering down from the banquet room, he figured the reunion was off to a fine start. "How's the crowd? Good turnout?"
"Everybody except you. You promised you'd help at the registration table."
The promise she referred to had been a casual maybe, but she was strung brittle and he didn't contradict her.
"Couldn't be helped, Lydia."
He'd stayed late at the shipyard, sanding Lady Orion's hull and hoping Jake would turn up, resisting the urge to jump into his pickup and start cruising the streets. He might not have found the way to get to the kid yet, but he knew damned well that chasing after him like a nervous mother wouldn't do the job.
"What have we got?" he asked now, spotting the sheaf of papers in Lydia's free hand. "Thanks for getting these."
"It was a pain getting everyone to fill this out. What do you need all this information for?"
"Keeps the mailing list up to date," he said absently, sorting through the forms to check the out-of-towners. The first few he already knew. The pediatrician might have been a good resource if he weren't Tabby Jones, but Blake wasn't about to expose his kids to a negative bastard like Tabby.
Lydia grasped his arm and started pulling him toward the stairs. He could hear the sounds of Tony Dickson's guitar tuning up in the banquet room.
"A research chemist," he muttered, thinking of Jake's eyes. The kid had imagination, brains. Too damned many brains for the lifestyle he was falling into, but chemistry? No, too sterile.
"Mac," Lydia murmured, her breasts pressing against his arm. "Let's dance. Just you and I."
He felt a brief stirring in his loins, a memory of long-ago shared pleasures with Lydia.
"I'm not in much of a dancing mood, Lydia. Do you think there's any food left up there?"
He spotted a word written in smooth handwriting on the bottom line of the next form: ASTRONOMER.
Claire Welland.
Claire. A picture formed in his mind, big dreamy eyes staring up at him through impossibly thick glasses. He wondered if she'd been seeing stars all through high school, whether it was the heavens that had put that faraway look in her eyes and kept her from focusing on the world below.
He wondered if Jake had ever looked up, wondered how the kid would react to those big blue eyes behind the thick glasses. He shuffled the papers into a neat pile, folded them and stuffed them in his pocket.
It was an outside chance. Nothing else had worked, but who knew? He might hook the kid with astronomy.
"Right," he told Lydia, gaining distance by grasping her hand and placing it on his arm. "Let's check out the music."
"Hey, Mac!" someone shouted as he reached the top of the stairs. He waved, smiled, and walked on, looking for blond hair tied back, thick glasses. He couldn't see her, but she'd probably be standing off to the edge of the crowd, her nose in the book she would have snatched up in the library before coming in to dinner.
Fifteen years later, what would Claire Welland be wearing? Probably big glasses, a straight skirt, and a plain blouse covered by a loose sweater. Her head would be bowed over her books, and her eyes—big, fathomless blue eyes. She would look up, eyes wide and startled, like a deer in headlights.
He shook himself free of the crazy spell. Untouchable Claire, whose eyes he'd never really forgotten. She would have fainted with horror if she'd had a clue what thoughts her eyes stirred in a wild teenage boy.
No one was dancing yet, but Tony's guitar was tuned and the warm up had turned into an old Bruce Springsteen tune. Mac saw Don Henley and stopped.
"Hey, Don. Any word on Jake's court date?"
"Check with me Monday. How're you doing with him?"
"Coming along," said Mac, hoping it was true. "Say hello to Wendy. I'll stop by your office Monday and we'll talk about Jake."
Lydia tugged on his arm and he knew she'd be hurt if he tried to shove her off onto Don. "Let's dance, Lydia, before the rest of the guys cut me out. Just let me get us some decent music."
He walked over to Tony, Lydia still clinging to his arm, and murmured a request.
"You got it, Mac." Tony signaled to the other guys in the group as he changed gears in mid-song.
Fast music, pulsing guitar, Lydia a blessed two feet away. He must be getting old, arranging to speed up the music so he could keep his distance, but it was better than hurting her feelings by refusing to dance.
Where the hell was Claire? He needed her for Jake, damn it. If she'd slipped out already, he'd have to figure out where she was staying. If he was lucky, she'd be right here at Manresa Castle. Certainly the quiet, old-fashioned walls would suit the studious bookworm she'd been in high school. As soon as the dance ended, he'd check with Jenny at the desk.
Lydia moved into his arms as the music shifted again. Over her head, Mac saw a woman outlined against the window casement, just a glimpse before a broad back blocked her from his sight.
* * *
Across the room, Claire Welland eased herself back from the prematurely balding man who eyed her speculatively as he poured himself a drink
from the punch bowl.
"You've been away for a while, haven't you?"
"Yes," she agreed, hiding a smile. He didn't know who she was, any more than she knew him.
"Claire," he said, his eyes clinging to her nametag, then lingering to study the curve of her breasts.
"That's right." Behind her, the band started playing another song she didn't recognize. Noise, she thought. Too much noise.
"Claire," he repeated again, and she wished she'd had the sense to stay out of Port Townsend this week. She had no more idea how to make meaningless conversation with people she didn't care about than she'd had fifteen years ago, the night her father insisted she attend her graduation prom.
It had been emotional torture for a nerdy teenager. Fifteen years later, she felt bored and she wished she hadn't come, but at least she'd ditched the shyness.
"Would you like to dance?"
"I'm not much of a dancer."
He wasn't wearing a nametag, which probably meant he was local, that he'd never left Port Townsend and simply expected everyone to know him.
"I'm sorry. I don't remember your name."
"Barry." His eyes lingered on her bodice again. "Let me get you a drink."
A few minutes later, when he pressed the drink into her hand, she felt the skin crawl along the back of her neck, as if someone were standing close behind her. Too close.
She turned her head and fought the urge to gasp audibly.
"Hello, Claire." His deep voice was husky with just a hint of gravel.
"Blake McKenzie," she said breathlessly. She lifted her glass and sipped, reminding herself sternly that she was a mature woman, not a dreamy teenager.
"Hey, Mac!" said Barry.
Everyone had called him Mac in school, but she hadn't. She hadn't called him anything, not to his face, but in her mind he'd always been Blake, as if she were the only person in the world—other than the teachers—who called him by his given name.
The Colors of Love Page 22