"It's an engagement party for my brother Reid and his fiancée, Tina." And she'd almost forgotten all about it in the rush of hormones these past few days. What kind of sister did that make her?
"So it's a family thing, then?"
She looked at Zack and chuckled. "Oh, no. That's not the Danforth way, silly man."
"Yeah? What is the Danforth way?"
"Have a party, invite the world." Kim remembered too many of the stiff, formal affairs. Even as kids, she and her brothers had been expected to make an appearance at their parents' parties. They'd troop into the ballroom dressed to the teeth, smile, look like happy, all-American children, pause to be admired briefly, then be trotted off by the nanny, sent back to their rooms to have dinner on a tray.
Even birthday parties had become business deals. Mergers were made while professional clowns entertained society's children. Tonight, Kim knew, would be a different kind of circus—but just as crazy.
"It's a family celebration," she said, "but with dad running for the Senate, he's not about to miss the chance to do a little fund-raising. Reporters will be there and probably a couple of TV cameras." She looked at Zack. "The movers and shakers of Georgia will be filling Crofthaven tonight."
"So," he said, shooting her a quick grin, "I shouldn't be expecting a keg out on the patio?"
She laughed and some of the dread for the coming ordeal fell away. Kim loved her family, but she loathed these performances. She'd always hated the formal gatherings at the Danforth mansion. Small talk with people you didn't like and wouldn't see again until the next "must" appearance … smiling when your feet hurt, holding a single glass of champagne but not drinking it because it wouldn't do for a Danforth to drink too much. Strained dinner conversations with strangers. No matter how many times she'd done it, she'd never felt comfortable.
"No kegs, but we'll raid the kitchen." She reached out and laid one hand on his forearm. "Joyce, the housekeeper, is a magician. She'll find us a couple of beers."
"Us?" he asked, smiling, moving one hand off the wheel to give her smaller hand a squeeze. "One night of beer and pizza with a bunch of SEALs has turned you off fine wine?"
The heat of his touch slipped right through her flesh and into her bones. It skimmed up the length of her arm and burned warmly in her chest. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand free of his and told herself to pay no attention to the sudden chill she felt.
"Not completely, but I will admit, there's a lot to be said for beer and pizza."
"There's still time to head to Pino's instead."
"Tempting," she said, thinking of the small pizza parlor not far from her house. She sighed inwardly. Oh, yes, Pino's sounded wonderful. "Unfortunately, I'd never hear the end of it."
"Okay," Zack said, shooting her a glance. In the pale light of the dashboard and the occasional flash of oncoming headlights, she looked tense—as though her inner spring had been wound way too tight.
He felt anxiety rippling off her in cool waves. Whether she knew it or not, she was building fences between them. Correction, he thought. She was adding height to the fences already there. The closer they got to the Danforth family mansion, the more reserved she became. It was as if she were slowly turning into a different person. Retreating from the Kim he knew to become the Kimberly who would probably never think of entering a rundown pizza joint.
"Turn right here," she said, and he noticed her voice had dropped another notch.
He steered the car right and passed through an open set of scrolled iron gates with a twin D in the center of each. Zack shook his head and guided the car through a long, tree-shaded drive. Moonlight speared down through the trees like an overhead spotlight focusing on a stage. Long, naked fingers of the trees seemed to reach out for the car, and the sheets of moss hanging from the gnarled limbs looked like ghosts, fluttering in the cold ocean wind.
"Impressive," he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the illuminated path created by his headlights, slicing through the darkness. Far in the distance, he made out the golden sheen of lamplight winking from windows.
She sighed. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."
"Bet this used to intimidate the hell out of your dates back in high school."
"It would have, I suppose, if I'd had any. I went to an all-girls' school. In Switzerland." Her hands clenched more tightly, her fingers pressing against each other until her knuckles whitened. "Not a lot of dating there."
"Pillow fights, though, right?" he asked, grinning, trying to make her smile.
Her mouth lifted briefly and he felt like a hero. "Do all guys think like you?"
"The lucky ones," he said, then shifted his gaze back to the road.
And slammed on the brakes.
"What?" Kim flew forward, was stopped by the shoulder harness, then flopped back against her seat.
"You okay?" Zack asked, even as he unhooked his belt and opened his car door.
"I'm fine. What're you—"
"Don't you see her?" He lifted one hand and pointed to the woman standing at the side of the road. She'd moved out of the center of the drive, where she'd been only moments before. She'd scared hell out of him. Now she was just standing there, her long, black dress sweeping the ground, her pale face turned to them, her dark eyes watching.
"Zack…" Kim glanced at the woman, then back at him. "Let's just go on, okay?"
"Can't just leave her here," he said sharply and climbed out of the car. "Ma'am," he called as he stepped a little closer to the woman. "We'd be happy to give you a ride up to the house."
She gave him a small, brief smile and swayed slightly, as though buffeted by the breeze shooting down the long, tree-lined drive. She was illuminated by the moonlight, but his car's headlights seemed to shine right through her. The woman's long, dark hair lifted in the cold wind and swirled around her face. She lifted one hand to smooth it down, then stared at Zack through eyes dark and shadowed with pain so staggering, he felt the weight of her agony.
Zack's heart jumped to his throat and he wasn't sure why. Something was wrong. The hairs at the back of his neck lifted and sent an icy roll of dread trickling down his spine.
She opened her mouth and spoke. But she made no sound. Zack saw her mouth moving as she tried repeatedly to tell him something she obviously felt was important. She wrung her hands and a solitary tear snaked its way down her cheek as she realized he couldn't hear her.
And the more she tried to make Zack understand, the more her dark eyes filled with frustration. A sense of sorrow so strong reached across the distance to Zack and shook him right down to his bones.
"Zack," Kim said quietly, from behind him.
He couldn't tear his gaze from the woman in front of him, but a part of him clung to the sound of Kim's voice. "You see her, right?"
"Yes."
That was something, then, he told himself. He'd faced guns, mines, storms at sea and more life-threatening situations than most people ever encountered. But standing here in the cold night air watching a ghost made him grateful to have company.
As he watched, the image of the woman wavered, her eyes wept. She shimmered in the dappled moonlight, then slowly disappeared.
Kim would have seen that, too, he told himself. So at least he wasn't headed to the loony bin alone. If they locked him up, maybe Kim would get the cell next door.
He lifted both hands and rubbed them briskly over his face. Then he turned and looked at Kim as she climbed back into the car. She didn't look the least bit surprised by all this. In fact, he remembered, when they'd first seen the woman, she'd told him just to drive on. She'd known that woman was—what … dead?
Zack cut that thought off, moved quickly to the car, jumped in and latched his seatbelt. Then, gripping the steering wheel in both fists, he shot her a level look. "What the hell was that?"
"That," Kim said, "was Miss Carlisle."
He thumped the heel of his hand against his ear as if he couldn't quite believe what she was saying. "You know her name?"
&nbs
p; "That's all we know about her," Kim told him as he fired up the engine and put the car back into Drive. "Well, that and the fact that she's been dead about a hundred years."
Zack snorted. This was turning out to be one interesting assignment. A gorgeous fish geek, mansions, stalkers and ghosts. And the month wasn't even half over.
Gritting his teeth, Zack blew out a breath and tossed one last look at the drive behind him—at the spot where the woman had disappeared. Nothing. He sent Kim another quick look before starting down the long road again. "So far, it's a hell of a party."
* * *
The gathering was everything Kim had expected it to be. Music drifted through the house, a lovely, soft layer just beneath the murmur of well-bred conversations. People wandered across the marble foyer and gathered at the foot of the circular staircase that led to the upper floors. Crowds loitered in the sitting room where a fire danced and leaped in the stone hearth. A few people were clustered in the music room, sitting at the Steinway, while a very untalented man sat plinking out a melody that was jarring in contrast to the orchestral melodies floating on the air. Dozens of silent servers threaded their way through the crush of people, carrying silver trays filled with champagne flutes and elaborate finger foods.
Kim headed for the ballroom, smiling at people as she passed, but always conscious of Zack's hand at the small of her back. She concentrated on the warmth of his fingers, burning through the black silk of her dress to imprint themselves on her skin. The feel of him, so close, reminded her that she wasn't here alone. That she needn't be resigned to a corner tonight. That the plants surrounding the polished teak dance floor would have to find someone else to talk to them.
"Lot of people for a family party," Zack muttered, leaning forward until his breath brushed the back of her neck.
She shivered at the sensation and glanced back at him. He was close enough for her to feel as though she were falling into his eyes. Close enough that a kiss was only a heartbeat away. Kim swallowed hard and did a quick mental retreat. "No Danforth party is ever just family."
He slid his hand around her body to rest on the curve of her hip. Kim sucked in a breath and held it before letting it slide slowly from her lungs. She savored the sensation of his hand on her body even as she spotted envious stares from the women they passed.
Tall and lean and gorgeous, Zack Sheridan was every woman's fantasy in that naval uniform. And for tonight, at least, he was hers.
They paused at the threshold of the ballroom. Zack tensed behind her. She couldn't blame him. She'd grown up in this place and the ballroom could still take her breath away.
A cavernous room, the pale blue walls were decorated with paintings her family had been collecting for generations. In the spring and summer, the French doors on the far side of the room would be thrown open, allowing the scents of roses and jasmine to flavor the air.
But February was chilly even in Savannah. Light from the crystal chandeliers dazzled the crowd and seemed to sparkle through the room as brightly as the diamonds glinting around the necks of some Danforth supporters to sparkle. The music was louder here, but still a lovely accompaniment to the conversations. A few elegantly dressed couples swirled around the dance floor but most of the guests were clustered around the small tables and chairs set up along the perimeter of the room. Nerves fluttered wildly in the pit of her stomach, but Kim silently ordered them to calm. She'd had years to perfect that ability.
"Do you know all these people?" Zack asked, astonished.
"No. Just a few." Nodding her head, she said, "The tall guy there in the navy blue suit, with his arm around the short woman with the great hair? That's my brother Reid and his fiancée, Tina."
"Uh-huh."
"Beside him," she continued, "are Ian, Adam and Marcus, my other brothers."
"Big family."
"That's not even counting cousins," she said, then grinned. "Like Jacob, there on the dance floor."
She pointed out a tall man with short black hair dusted with gray. He was laughing and spinning a much shorter woman in a wild version of a jitterbug in the middle of the ballroom.
"He looks like he's having fun," Zack said.
"Jacob has fun anywhere," Kim said on a sigh that was only slightly envious.
"So what do we do first?" Zack took her hand and threaded it through the crook of his arm.
"Find my father, I suppose," she said, her gaze already raking the crowd for one face in particular. She found Abraham Danforth on the far side of the ballroom, deep in discussion with three other men. He didn't look happy. Kim felt a quick jab of anxiety. If Abraham Danforth wasn't smiling at a fund-raiser, there was a problem.
Kim led the way, but kept her hand on Zack's arm. It felt good to have all that barely contained muscle and steel beneath her palm. It made her feel invincible. Almost.
As they approached her father, his voice, lowered to a mere rumble, reached her despite his efforts to keep quiet.
"I don't care what they said, I won't have it," Abraham muttered, his gaze narrowed on the tallest of the three men in black suits.
Kim didn't recognize any of them, but that didn't mean anything. There were always plenty of strangers at these events. But she did spot a flicker of annoyance in the black eyes of the man her father was focused on.
"I assure you—" the man said, his voice colored by an accent she couldn't quite place. Spanish?
A tall, robust man with silvering black hair and sharp eyes that rarely missed anything, Abraham Danforth was not a man to be taken lightly. And judging by the flash of surprise in the black eyes watching her father, Kim thought Abraham's opponent was just realizing that.
"No," Abraham said sharply, cutting the man off midsentence. Moving in closer, Kim's father narrowed his gaze on the man in question and lowered his voice even further. "No one threatens my family, is that understood? If my son Ian has any more trouble, I'm going to take it very personally. Are we clean?"
The other man's mouth tightened into a grim slash across his darkly handsome face. "Sí."
Before Kim could wonder what was going on, Zack muttered, "Stay here," and stepped up beside her father. "Anything I can help you with, sir?" he offered, sliding a warning glance to all three men.
Abraham shot Zack a quick, approving glance, then looked back at the other man. "Thank you, but no. I think we're finished here, aren't we, señor?"
A short nod was his only answer.
"Fine. Thank you for coming, sorry you have to leave so early." Abraham lifted his left hand, crooked a finger and almost instantly, two equally grim-faced men stepped up to his side. "Show these men out, please."
"Yes sir, Mr. Danforth," one of them said, then turned to the visibly fuming dark-eyed man. "This way, sir."
Kim stepped up to her father's side. "Dad? What's going on?"
A heartbeat or two of thick silence passed before Abraham's features cleared, like storm clouds lifting to reveal a sunny day. "Kim, honey. Don't you look lovely?" He turned and held out one hand to Zack. "And you must be Zack Sheridan. You look just like your father did twenty years ago. Great to meet you."
"Dad," Kim said again, tugging at her father's coat sleeve. "Never mind introductions. What's going on?"
"Nothing for you to worry about," he insisted, before beaming at Zack again. "Thanks for your offer of help."
"Not a problem," Zack said, letting his gaze slide briefly to Kim's furious eyes. "SEALs stick together."
Abraham sighed and smiled. "My SEAL days were long ago, I'm afraid."
"Once a SEAL," Zack said, "always a SEAL." Abraham grinned. "Hoo-yah, Commander Sheridan."
"Exactly."
"If you two have finished your bonding dance," Kim said, her voice low enough, tight enough, to demand their attention, "I wonder if you might spare me a moment for the 'womenfolk'?"
Her father frowned slightly, then shook his head. "No more unpleasantness tonight, Kimberly. It's your brother's big night."
She sighed. "Dad, R
eid doesn't know half these people."
"It's still his engagement party. Let's not forget that, hmm?"
"But what about Ian?"
He frowned again, deeper this time. "Please keep your voice down. There was a threat made. Some Colombian drug lord was rattling his saber. I've taken care of it."
"Drug lords?" she repeated, eyes wide.
"Shh." Clearly exasperated, he grabbed Zack's arm and said, "Commander, dance with my daughter."
"A pleasure, sir," Zack said and took Kim's hand, closing his fingers around hers when she would have escaped. "Come on," he whispered, leading her onto the dance floor. "No point in fighting a battle you're not going to win."
Still fuming, she tossed a look back at her father. "What kind of thing is that for a SEAL to say?"
He swung her into his arms, pulling her tightly against him. Smiling down into her grass-green eyes, he shrugged and said, "Honey, you're no SEAL, so give it up. Your old man doesn't want to talk about it and you're not going to change his mind."
"But—"
"Always a 'but' with you," he said, smiling, and swayed to the rhythm of the music soaring through the huge room. "Just for once, let that go and just dance with me."
She opened her mouth as if to argue, then, still staring up at him, deliberately snapped it shut again.
"That cost you, didn't it?" His whisper was for her alone.
"More than you know," she admitted, sliding her left hand up to his shoulder as she moved in time with his steps.
"Well then, here's something to take your mind off it."
"What?"
"You're beautiful."
She blinked up at him.
"Remember," he said, seeing the doubt flash in her eyes, "I don't lie."
She nodded slowly, keeping her gaze locked with his. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Around them, couples moved in time to the music and conversations were being carried on from the sidelines. Deals were being made, promises crafted and lies exchanged. But here, with Kim in his arms, Zack felt as though they were alone on the planet. It was just the two of them, locked together.
Man Beneath the Uniform Page 8