The Sweetest Thing

by Barbara Freethy

  "Oh, Alex, leave her out of it," Julian protested.

  "I told you not to involve her." Alex glanced over his shoulder at Julian.

  "And I told you that I was going to find Suzannah with or without your help." Julian rose to his feet. "I have some things to show you, Miss Faith. I would bring them here, but perhaps it is best if you come up to the apartment. We live just down the street. It's the tall gray building, the Centrillion. We're on the twenty-first floor, number 2107."

  "I have a clerk coming in at noon. I could probably come up then," Faith replied.

  "Perfect. I will see you later."

  As Julian left the bakery, Alex turned his attention back to Faith. She backed up a few steps, until her palms came to rest against the front of the display case.

  There were no longer any tears on her cheeks or sadness in her eyes, just a simple steadfast determination that surprised him. Somehow, Julian had drawn not only her sympathy but also her loyalty. But Faith was in for a wild-goose chase, not to mention a long hard fall when she realized she was being conned. Alex could almost feel sorry for her, if she weren't so stubborn and headstrong and determined to make him the bad guy.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" Alex asked.

  "I just said I'd help him make a few inquiries."

  "You'll never find this woman. It's a waste of time. He hasn't seen her in fifty years. She might be dead."

  "It's my time."

  "He probably made the whole thing up. My grandfather is the ultimate liar. He's never met a story he didn't want to act out. This is just another one. Can't you see that?"

  "What I see is a very lonely old man who wants to make peace. What's wrong with that?"

  "Things are never what they appear to be with my grandfather. You don't know him. You can't believe him."

  "I don't know you either. Why should I believe you?"

  "I give up." He looked down as Jessie slid her arms around his waist. Her attitude had gone from willful defiance to puppy-dog loneliness, and he wasn't sure which was harder to take.

  "Please, let me come with you today," Jessie said wistfully. "I won't be any trouble. It will be good for the two of us to get to know each other, don't you think?"

  Alex sighed. He couldn't handle yet another argument. It was easier to give in. "Fine. You can come."

  Jessie gave him a quick hug that accompanied a squeal of delight. At least he'd made someone happy today.

  "But no smoking, no swearing, and no autographs."

  "Whatever. I'll wait for you out front."

  Jessie headed to the door and Alex moved closer to Faith, deliberating invading her space, standing close enough to see the pale bridge of freckles that dashed across her nose and smell the cinnamon clinging to her skin. She was beautiful, sexy, and he wanted her.

  The realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He'd moved in to intimidate her, but now that he was here, all he could think about was touching her, kissing her. His gaze fell to her mouth and her lips slowly parted, letting out a slight breath of air. She was so close, so very close.

  "You're in my way, Alex," she whispered.

  Alex raised his head and looked into her beautiful green eyes. "And you're in mine." He paused. "I hope you won't regret getting involved with us, Faith."

  "I'm not involved with you, only with your grandfather."

  Alex slowly smiled. "If you're smart, you won't go near my apartment today."

  "As long as you won't be there, I'm sure I'll be safe."

  "I wouldn't count on it. Where my grandfather goes, trouble usually follows."

  Chapter Six

  "I should warn you," Julian said somberly as he held a cardboard box in his hands. "By looking at this pot, by touching it, you may very well bring the curse upon yourself."

  Faith swallowed hard, unnerved by the serious glint in his eyes. She didn't believe in magic or curses, not really. Julian was just acting, she reminded herself, spooking her as he probably had done dozens of times in countless plays. But she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine as he set the box on the coffee table in Alex's living room and slowly opened it.

  For a moment, Faith thought of stopping him, of running from the room, of admitting that this was all a terrible idea. But she couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She could only watch as Julian unwrapped what seemed like layers and layers of tissue paper.

  Finally he got down to the last piece. Faith caught her breath as he pulled out a piece of pottery that had once been a stunningly crafted black and white vase.

  As Julian had said, the pot had broken in half, but in perfect symmetry. There were no jagged edges, only a clean line of separation. She could almost believe it had been made in two pieces, then put together, so clearly defined was his portion of the pottery. It had been painted black, with jagged white lines running around the neck and the bottom portion of the vase. It was a beautiful piece of art, one she could hardly believe was centuries old.

  "Would you like to touch it?" Julian asked.

  She met his gaze, saw the perceptive glint in his eye. He knew she didn't believe him.

  "You can check to see if it's made in China or some such place," he added.

  "I'm sure you wouldn't be showing it to me if it said that."

  Julian smiled. "You're right. It's the real thing, Miss Faith. I found it under a precipice in a cave buried deep in a wild canyon protected for centuries from the weather and man..." His voice drifted away. "Until, of course, I came along. I thought it was just a pretty piece. But I should have known by the markings on the wall."

  "Known what?" Faith whispered, taken back in time by the magic in his voice.

  "Nothing, never mind."

  "But--"

  "Just take it. You don't need to know anything more." His gruff voice allowed her no argument.

  After a moment, Faith picked up the pot from the table. It was smooth and cool to the touch. She closed her eyes and slid her fingers up and down the sides.

  Whispers of voices rang through her head. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but there was joy and anger and sadness and love all mixed together, then fear. It swept through her like a flame catching fire.

  They were chasing her, the voices grew into a thundering roar, and the wind, the wind sent shivers down her spine. The vase suddenly became warm in her hands -- or was it simply that by holding it, she'd made it warm?

  In a rush of confusion, Faith opened her eyes and saw Julian staring at her in horror.

  "It got you. Oh, my God, it got you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I saw it on your face. You heard them."

  Faith set the pottery back in the box, suddenly desperate to get it out of her hands. "I didn't hear anything. Nothing."

  "I didn't think it would hurt you," Julian muttered. "I touched it and I didn't hear anything."

  "Neither did I." Faith refused to remember the feeling of stark terror that had come over her.

  "What have I done? What have I done?" Julian got to his feet and paced around the room.

  "Mr. Carrigan. Please, you're making me nervous."

  Julian stopped abruptly. "Suzannah heard them, too, the ghosts of the past. That's why she dropped the pot. That's why she ran away. I didn't tell you..."

  "Tell me what?"

  "In the picture you couldn't see..."

  "See what?" Faith demanded in frustration as he refused to complete a sentence.

  Julian stared at her for a long, tense minute. "Suzannah had red hair and green eyes -- like you."

  "Lots of people have red hair and green eyes. It doesn't mean anything."

  "There was a story." He shook his head. "No, I can't remember how it went."

  He was lying. This time she could see clearly that he was not telling the truth. Whatever the story was, he remembered it clearly. Faith opened her mouth to question him further, then wondered if she really wanted to hear it. Her stomach was twisting with uneasiness and she had a sudden poundin
g headache behind her eyes.

  "I have to go," she said, getting to her feet.

  "Suzannah said the same thing," Julian replied. "She was suddenly so afraid. She thought they would..."

  The silence drew out. Faith couldn't stand it for another second.

  "They would what?"

  "They would kill her."

  "Who?"

  "The voices. The gods. The spirits. I don't know. She wouldn't tell me what they said."

  "But they didn't kill her," Faith said, trying to be logical.

  Julian stared at her for a long moment, and the truth came to her with blinding clarity.

  "That's what you want to find out, isn't it? Why did you wait fifty years?"

  "I didn't. I tried before, but I couldn't find her. She simply vanished."

  "Then why do you think you can find her now?"

  "Because now I have you. I knew it the first moment I saw you."

  Oh, God! He was crazy and scaring the hell out of her. Faith tried to tell herself he was a harmless old man, but there was a sharpness to his expression, a clarity to his gaze, that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  "I don't want to hurt you, Miss Faith. I just want your help."

  "I can't help you." She put up a hand to stop him from interrupting. "I can't. This is too weird."

  "I'm afraid it's too late for you to say no."

  "Of course I can say no."

  Julian shook his head. "I would be happy to let you go, but they won't. That's what the old Indian said."

  "I don't care what some old Indian said." Faith practically ran to the door. "I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back."

  The pictures on the wall shook as Faith slammed the door. Julian sank down on the sofa and pulled out his photograph of Suzannah. "I've done it again," he whispered. "Forgive me."

  But there were no words of forgiveness, only silence. He set down the photo and picked up the vase. "Speak to me." But again, he heard only silence. "Why won't you talk to me?" He asked the question, but deep down he knew the answer. The old man had told him, he just hadn't wanted to believe.

  * * *

  Melanie had always told Jessie she could be anybody. All she had to do was close her eyes and believe. So Jessie closed her eyes and propped her feet up on the bench in front of her. Right now she wanted to be a superstar basketball player, the adored celebrity of millions of fans.

  As her fantasy grew, she could hear the lights being switched on and off as the Oakland Coliseum was prepared for the evening game, the static sounds of the microphone being tested for loudness, the distant voices of Alex and his partner, and Elijah James and his agent, and finally the slow, soothing bounce of a basketball against the hardwood floor.

  Oh, what a sweet life -- to be rich and famous and tall. Jessie smiled to herself and blew a huge bubble out of her mouth, popping it with a reassuring bang. She could imagine herself riding in limousines, signing autographs, wearing long silvery dresses that glittered in the spotlight. And off to the side would be her father, smiling proudly, beaming with delight, saying, "That's my daughter."

  Her smile faded and tears crowded her closed eyes. She wouldn't let them out. She wouldn't. So she sniffed instead and tried to get the fantasy back, but it wouldn't come. When she opened her eyes, she was just a little kid sitting in the grandstands, waiting for a man who couldn't stand her to finish his business.

  Alex was a nice-looking man, tall, strong, great hair, beautiful eyes. Melanie had always picked studs to sleep with. Too bad none of 'em ever wanted to hang around, Jessie thought, hardening her heart against the charming smile that swept across Alex's face as he tried to talk Elijah into something. Alex was just another one who'd left.

  Course, Melanie had never really wanted any guys to stay. "We've got places to go, sweet pea," Melanie used to say when they'd pack up and head out for somewhere new. "You and me -- we're going to be rich someday and living the good life. You'll see. All you have to do is believe." And so they'd gone to New York so Melanie could play on Broadway, only she'd ended up waiting tables in a backstreet deli. Then they'd gone to Nashville, so Melanie could break into the country music scene, only she'd ended up dancing in a cage, showing off her boobs.

  She wasn't supposed to see her mom dancing that way. She'd never been supposed to see anything her mom did. But she had, because it got lonely waiting, and Melanie always needed help. And when her mom needed help, she always said, "I love you, sweet pea," and Jessie liked hearing her say that.

  Melanie wouldn't be saying it anymore. She'd known she was gonna die for a lot longer than she'd told that lawyer guy. They'd looked for Alex all over Sacramento. She still remembered Melanie's words -- that last night. "The lawyer will find Alex for you, Jessie. It's time you met your dad."

  And Melanie had died -- gone and left her with some guy she'd screwed a hundred years ago. Only Alex didn't think he was her dad. And shit, he was probably right.

  Jessie sighed. She'd tried so hard to believe, but the last few months, living in the back of a car or some seedy motel, hadn't given her much to believe in. And lately she'd begun to think that believing was worse than not. It hurt -- just like finding nothing in her stocking when Melanie had assured her that Santa Claus would find the red sock hung out on the car's antenna. Course, there wasn't no Santa. And there wasn't no dad. Alex didn't want her. There was no sense in believing that he did.

  The only person Alex wanted was Elijah James. He'd been talking to him for almost twenty minutes, trying to convince him to wear some stupid shoes. As far as Alex was concerned, she was invisible. Melanie had always told her that besides believing, sometimes you have to go get what you want, instead of waiting for it to come to you. Jessie tipped her head to one side. There must be something she could do to get Alex's attention. But what? She rested her chin on the back of her hand and watched as Alex picked up a basketball and tossed it at Elijah.

  * * *

  "I'll shoot you for the contract, Elijah. Whoever misses, loses." Alex heard his desperate challenge echo through the cavernous arena, bouncing off the sponsor signs, the slick hardwood basketball floor, the press box, and the scoreboard descending from the ceiling like a spaceship about to land.

  In a few hours the arena would be packed with fans come to watch the Warriors' new twenty-year-old, seven-foot rebounding sensation, Elijah James. But right now it was just the two of them. Actually, it was the four of them. Elijah's agent, Matthew Denning, and Alex's more conservative business partner, Charlie Hayes, were hovering on the sidelines, looking as shocked as Elijah at Alex's suggestion.

  He knew it sounded crazy, but he'd run out of words to convince Elijah, and Alex had learned long ago that he'd never get anything unless he fought for it.

  "You want to shoot me?" Elijah asked in a disbelieving southern drawl, as he crossed his muscled arms in front of his massive chest. "You sell shoes, man."

  "What's the matter, don't think you can beat me?"

  Elijah laughed. "I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back."

  "That won't be necessary. I'll let you use two."

  "Uh, Alex. You want to think about this?" Charlie asked, sweat beading along his forehead. "Elijah is a professional athlete."

  Alex shrugged, refusing to back down. If Top Flight was going to compete with the big boys at Nike, they needed the big athletes to endorse their shoes. Elijah had already admitted he liked their shoe, loved it, in fact. They'd even come to terms on the money and the cut on future profits. Elijah just wasn't sure he wanted to sign with an upstart company like Top Flight over an established league sponsor.

  "It's a simple bet," Alex reiterated, watching Elijah battle with his pride. Having spent the last ten years studying athletes and creating shoes that would make them better and faster, he knew the way they thought, and he knew which buttons to push.

  Elijah could no more resist taking a dare than Alex could resist making one. In some ways they were two of a kind; he'd just chosen to play
his game in a different venue.

  "I'll need to confer with my client," Matthew said, drawing Elijah away from them.

  Alex turned to Charlie. "We've got him."

  "You're crazy."

  "We're at an impasse. Elijah wants to sign with us, but he's afraid we're not good enough. We have to prove to him that we are."

  "By shooting free throws?"

  "It's the only language he understands. Elijah wants to go with a company he respects. All we have to do is get him to respect us, by showing him that we're confident, we're bold, we take risks."

  "I don't take risks. You take risks, usually against my advice."

  "True." Alex took a practice jump, feeling the bounce from his Top Flight Airborne Shoes. "But I can do anything in these babies." He felt a renewed sense of energy and confidence. Shoes made the man. And today he was the man.

  "So what's the deal?" Elijah asked, his eyes skeptical as he peered down at Alex like some powerful god.

  "I win, you sign. You win, I pay you ten grand just for your trouble."

  "Oh, shit," Charlie said.

  "Relax, I know what I'm doing," Alex said.

  "Last time you said that, you lost ten grand in the stock market."

  "That was different. I didn't know anything about software, but I do know my hoops." Despite his bravado, Alex knew the bet was risky. But dammit all, he had struggled like hell the last ten years to build a company that would attract the top athletes. He couldn't let Elijah slip through his fingers, not when he was so close to getting the success he'd dreamed about.

  "Fifteen grand," Matthew Denning said, stepping forward, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of easy money. "If you're that confident."

  "Eleven," Alex countered.

  "Twelve."

  "Deal." Alex turned to Elijah. "I'll even go first."

  "I think I'm going to be sick," Charlie murmured, taking a seat in the first row. "Do you know how much twelve thousand dollars is going to set us back?"

  "I'm not going to lose." Alex grabbed a ball and walked onto the court with Elijah. That was when he realized just how short he was compared to the towering giant. Okay, six foot wasn't particularly short, but next to Elijah, he felt like a midget.