A touch of love

by Conn, Phoebe

  "Take your time," Trisha called out as Aubrey left the room.

  "Would you like something?" Jesse offered graciously. "Tea, juice, or a donut?"

  "No thanks, I've already eaten." Trisha joined him at the breakfast table and motioned for him to be seated. She looked extremely pleased by what she had found and reached out to give Jesse's arm an encouraging squeeze. "I would never have believed this if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

  Jesse leaned back in his chair. "Believed what?"

  "Have you or have you not just spent the weekend with Aubrey?" the dark-eyed young woman inquired with unabashed glee.

  Jesse considered several responses before he chose a deliciously ambiguous one. "Yeah, you could say that we spent the weekend together." He handed her the newspaper. "Did you see this?"

  "No," Trisha scanned the photograph, then read the article hurriedly. "Great publicity, I'd say. What were you two doing out at the Ferrells' house? Are you a detective?"

  "No, I'm Pete Ferrell's cousin, and I'm afraid I've gotten Aubrey into more trouble than she can handle if the killers assume she has some psychic ability."

  "What killers? There's no proof of a murder." Trisha handed the paper back to him. "That's the whole point

  of the story. The police haven't a clue as to what happened to the Ferrells."

  "How many of your relatives have disappeared without a trace?"

  "Well, none, but—"

  "But, nothing," Jesse countered harshly.

  Trisha regarded Jesse more closely. She would never have thought him Aubrey's type, but now that she had discovered how serious a man he was, she reconsidered her initial impression. Then she began to suspect his motives.

  "You were at Saturday's seminar, so you know Aubrey teaches people how to create magical visions and set the goals to achieve them; she makes no claim of being psychic. If you're using her to try and solve a crime that has baffled the police, then you're making two grievous errors. First, she can't see into the future or the past, and second, you ought not to be sleeping with her. It's cruel to play with her emotions like that and she doesn't deserve it. No woman does."

  If there was one thing Jesse absolutely could not abide, it was having a woman lecture him, especially when he didn't deserve it. "What Aubrey and I do is our business and not yours," he said, not about to admit that he was no closer to sleeping with Aubrey than he had been when he walked into her seminar.

  Aubrey entered the room a moment later to find Jesse and Trisha silently observing each other with equally suspicious glances. "Oh Jesse, I'm sorry, there are some copies of my book in a carton beside my computer, but I haven't time now to sign one for you as I promised."

  Jesse rose to his feet with a lazy stretch. "That's all right. Would you mind if I hung around awhile and looked through your other books? If I find anything I want to read I'll do it here. I won't take any of your books home with me."

  Aubrey was conscious not only of Jessed earnest gaze, but of Trisha's curious glance, as well. She had intended for their relationship to remain stricdy business, and here he was again asking for personal favors, but this time she managed to hold her temper rather than lash out at him. "Stay as long as you like. Go swimming again if you want, and then just press the button in the doorknob when you go out the back door. Lucifer and Guinevere have already been fed and put out in the backyard. Just be firm with Guin and she won't bother you."

  "Thanks. I'll watch out for the pets and I won't leave the house unlocked," Jesse assured her. Aubrey was wearing a peach-colored outfit and looked so pretty that as she walked by him he couldn't resist reaching out to catch her hand. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then lowered his voice to a seductive whisper.

  "Be real careful today. I'll talk with you later."

  Aubrey was too startled by Jesse's affectionate farewell to scold him again and she hurried on out the back door. The man was absolutely impossible, but how could she criticize him for kissing her good-bye when his warning had sounded so sincere?

  As soon as Aubrey had started her car's engine, Trisha began to pester her for information. "Tell me exacdy what happened between you and the cowboy and don't you dare omit a single lurid detail."

  Aubrey glanced over her shoulder and began to back out of the driveway. "Calm down, there's nothing exciting to tell."

  "Don't give me that," Trisha argued. "When was the last time you spent the weekend with a man?"

  What Trisha assumed was so far from the truth that Aubrey couldn't help but laugh. "You really mustn't let your imagination run wild." She continued to insist nothing of a romantic nature had transpired between her and

  Jesse Barrett. That wasn't the complete truth, but she wasn't about to give Trisha a different impression. Still, Jesse had mentioned speaking with her later, and she could not help but wonder what their next encounter would bring.

  She stopped to pick up Shelly Sandler and had to wait while Shelley gave her three-year-old daughter a good-bye hug and spoke a final word with her mother, who looked after the little girl during the day. As soon as Shelley had climbed into the back seat, Aubrey noted something was amiss. Shelley was always subdued, but today she appeared to be on the verge of tears.

  Aubrey turned to face her. "If your daughter's ill, Trisha and I can handle the seminar on our own."

  "No, Annie's fine. It's just that Ricky's back in town and he came by yesterday."

  "Drunk or high, I assume?" Trisha asked.

  "No. He was sober."

  "Well, that's a first," Trisha said.

  "That's enough, Trish," Aubrey scolded. They were running late and she preferred to talk on the freeway as they drove into Los Angeles. She wished Ricky Vance were merely some sleazy character on one of the daytime soaps rather than her shy assistant's demon lover. "Did he spend any time with Annie?" she asked.

  Shelley searched through her large leather handbag for a tissue and wiped her eyes. "No. She was already asleep when he came by the house."

  "Looks like he won't make father of the year again this year," Trisha scoffed.

  "Do you actually believe you're helping?" Aubrey asked Trisha.

  "Yeah. I do. One of the these days Shelley is finally going to be struck with a blinding glimpse of the obvious and she'll tell Ricky to go to hell and stay there."

  4 'I love him," Shelley insisted softly.

  Aubrey glanced at Shelley in her rearview mirror and saw only pain rather than the bright sheen of love in her tearful gaze. "Love feels good, Shelley. Does Ricky ever give you anything but grief?"

  They had reached the Pasadena Freeway, and after speeding along the first few miles of its serpentive curves, they came to the point where the traffic had backed up with people commuting to work. It would be slow going from here into town, but Aubrey had expected it. "You're an excellent assistant, Shelley," she complimented her sincerely, "but I can't wait for the day when you find the courage to bring your own dreams into reality. Then you'll finally let Ricky go, for Annie's sake as much as your own."

  Shelley sent a wistful glance along the small houses backed up against the freeway. "I never knew my father and I do so want Annie to know hers."

  "That's all well and good," Trisha interjected, "but a responsible, loving stepfather would be better for you both. What about Gardner? He's nearly as quiet as you are. Don't you like him even a little bit?"

  Shelley wiped away the last threat of tears. "Don't be ridiculous, Trish. Gardner's in love with you."

  Trisha swung all the way around in her seat. "You have got to be kidding. She's kidding, isn't she, Aubrey?"

  Aubrey shot Trisha a knowing glance. "Well, I don't know if he's in love with you are not, but I think it's safe to say he has a very serious crush on you. Haven't you ever noticed how eager he is to sit beside you at lunch or bring you a soft drink during breaks?"

  "He does that for everyone."

  "True. He's very considerate," Aubrey agreed, "but just watch him today. Maybe if
you weren't so busy flirting with all the men in the audience, you'd notice how he always looks after you first."

  Trisha slumped down in her seat. "I'm so embarrassed I don't think I can even look at him today. He's very sweet, but not my type at all."

  "He's male," Shelley offered, clearly believing that was all Trisha required.

  Aubrey laughed, but Trisha wasn't the least bit amused. "I'm not that obvious, am I?"

  Keeping a close eye on the slow-moving traffic, Aubrey nodded. "Yes, Trisha, I'm afraid you are." For a brief instant she was tempted to offer Jesse Barrett as an attractive alternative to Gardner, but at the last moment decided it wouldn't be wise. She really didn't know him well enough to recommend him to a friend, and even without being able to foretell the future, she sensed in him a chance to learn more about herself. Unwilling to give away that opportunity, she focused her attention on the day's seminar and urged her companions to do the same.

  Harlan Caine tossed the Metro section of the newspaper across his desk to John Gilroy. "Waste the bitch, but don't be so goddamned messy this time. Be creative. Make it look like a freeway sniping or a gang shooting. If she has a pool, help her drown in it. Hell, steal a car and see she dies in a hit and run accident. Just get rid of her before she comes nosing around here. We've got the police stumped and I want them to stay that way."

  As John read the article, his lips moved slowly as he silently pronounced each word. "What about the dude with her? You want him dead, too?"

  "I've no quarrel with him. Just take care of her as soon as you can and make it look like an accident. I don't want anyone connecting her death to the Ferrells."

  "I know some guys who make pornos. Maybe they'd kidnap her for a snuff film."

  "We can't trust perverts like that. Take care of this yourself. I'm trusting you to handle it."

  "Sure, boss, the next time Aubrey Glenn's name is in the paper it'll be her obituary."

  "I can't wait to read it." Harlan laughed at John's joke. John was as loyal as an old dog. He was the perfect employee. It was a real shame he couldn't afford to keep him around much longer.

  real people in her life failed to appreciate her needs. She didn't mention her husband by name, or explain why their marriage had failed, but that only made Jesse all the more curious about what had happened.

  Aubrey found Jesse sprawled across a brown leather armchair with his feet propped on the matching hassock. He was surrounded by stacks of books in which he had left scraps of notepaper to mark items he wanted to discuss. "My goodness, it looks as though you've been busy." It was obvious he had put his time to good use rather than just lying out by the pool all day as she had suspected. She had not realized he might have the capacity for serious study and cautioned herself not to underestimate him again.

  "I read your book this morning," Jesse informed her as he straightened up. He was about to rise when she dropped into the chair beside him.

  "If you'd rather not offer an opinion, I'll understand," Aubrey suggested diplomatically.

  Jesse was keenly interested in her private life, but chose to discuss the other aspects of her book first. "No, I really enjoyed it. Perhaps I was too preoccupied at the seminar to appreciate the similarities, but it wasn't until I read your comments on creative imagery today that I realized it was exactly what I used to do when I was competing in rodeos."

  Aubrey sincerely doubted it "You're not serious."

  "Oh, but I am. All the guys do it I'd say half the sport is mental, maybe even a higher percentage. You have to imagine yourself having the best ride of your life long before it's your turn."

  "Really?" Aubrey stared at him, amazed to find he was sincere.

  "Yes. There's no margin for error. People think riding a bull is a test of strength, but it isn't If it were, the damn bull would win every single time. It's a matter of rhythm

  and balance and that's something the cowboy has to control. You can't control anything about the ride with your mind distracted by the noise of the crowd or some pretty girl you're trying to impress or thoughts of how you're going to spend the prize money. You'll find yourself lying in the dirt long before your eight seconds are up. You have to be totally focused on dominating the bull with all the style you can muster. It's something you rehearse in your mind again and again so when you actually do ride, the bull's beaten before he leaves the chute."

  Aubrey could not help but be impressed. "I had no idea being a successful bull rider required anything more than endurance." And the stupidity to do it in the first place, she was too considerate to add.

  "Endurance is a big help, believe me it is, but the most important factor is always mental."

  "So what happened? Did you lose your concentration and get thrown the day you were injured?"

  "No, I'd done real well that day. I won, as a matter of fact, but my glove got caught in my rope and I had to fight to get free. That's why I slipped. I should have made it to the ground on my feet easily, but instead, I landed on my ass and like they say, the rest is history. A bucking horse won't go out of his way to stomp a cowboy, but a bull will. A bull will keep coming after you again and again and his hooves are like meat cleavers and," Jesse watched the color fade from Aubrey's creamy complexion and thought better of continuing with such a vivid description.

  "I was laid up a long while and couldn't get my timing back. I wasn't about to compete if I had no chance of winning. It would have been too hard after having been the World Champ three years straight."

  "Why Jesse, you never mentioned you were a World Champion. I ought to call the Times and tell them, so they

  can identify you correctly when they print a retraction of today's story."

  "Can you make them retract it?"

  "I'm going to try. I'm not worried about being stalked by Pete's killers, but I don't want people contacting me for help in locating their missing relatives. Just think of all the runaways in the country. If parents thought I could find their kids, I'd be besieged with heartrending requests."

  "I'd never thought of that."

  Aubrey gestured toward the books that surrounded him. "It looks as though you've been busy."

  Before Jesse could respond, they were interrupted by the doorbell. "Better let me get that," he warned.

  "My number's not listed in the telephone book. There's no way someone could have found my home address unless I'd given it to them."

  "I found it, didn't I?" Convinced she might be in real danger, Jesse followed Aubrey from the room. "Look to see who it is before you open the door."

  "Worry wart," Aubrey complained, but she ducked into the living room to catch a glimpse of the visitor through one of the front windows. "Relax; we're not under attack."

  Not wanting to intrude, Jesse hung back, thinking she would invite the caller to come in, but she didn't. He could hear a man's voice and, curious as to who he might be, he stepped down into the living room so he could also get a look at him through the window.

  There was a new black BMW parked out front, and the dark-haired man on the doorstep looked as if he could easily afford to drive it. In Jesse's opinion, he looked too perfect, and he supposed the guy was a bank president or held some other suffocating executive job that required him to look like he had just stepped off the cover of Gentleman 's Quarterly. Just the thought of wearing a suit and tie

  made Jesse gag. As Aubrey's voice took on a strident note, he was inspired to come to her defense no matter what had caused the argument between her and her well-dressed caller.

  With a devilish chuckle, he tugged his shirttail out of his Levi's and with a yank, unfastened the mother of pearl snaps. Then, certain he was showing off enough bare chest to provoke the man if he had a romantic interest in Aubrey, he walked up behind her.

  "You have some kind of a problem here, honey?" he asked nonchalantly. He rested his left arm on the doorjamb and struck a casual pose.

  Aubrey knew exactly what Jesse was doing, and why, but it was scarcely called for in this instanc
e. 'Jesse Barrett, I'd like you to meet my ex-husband, Larry Stafford. Larry was just admiring your photo in the paper, but I'm certain he's thrilled to meet you in person."

  Jesse stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he lied without the least effort to sound sincere. He was shocked by how handsome a man Larry was, but his eyes were so cold a gray they reminded him of marbles. He had never met a man with such a frosty gaze.

  In return, Larry Stafford studied Jesse with a contemptuous glance that focused first on his casual apparel and then on his hairy chest. He grasped Jesse's hand only briefly and then cut him out of the conversation as though he didn't exist. He was holding the Metro section of the Times and shook it as he continued to argue with Aubrey.

  "I don't know why I'm surprised by this, but for some reason I thought you'd have more sense than to become involved in crimes the police are unable to solve. Do you plan to begin reading palms next?"

  Aubrey had very little patience where Larry was concerned, and he had already exhausted it. She straightened

  up proudly. "You no longer have a say in anything I do. How many times must I remind you of that?"

  "You ought to be grateful that I don't charge you for my advice/'

  "I wouldn't pay the bill if you did," Aubrey responded smugly.

  Delighted Aubrey could hold her own with her obnoxious ex, Jesse began to laugh. "Actually, we're thinking of franchising a string of tarot card parlors. Perhaps you'd like to invest. They're sure to be a veritable gold mine and you obviously have expensive tastes."

  Larry's steel-gray eyes narrowed to menacing slits. "You couldn't possibly know what my tastes are."

  Jesse slipped his arm around Aubrey's waist and pulled her close. "I'd say I've got a real good idea what pleases you."

  Rather than respond, Larry sent an insolent glance roving over Jesse's muscular frame. When he finally lifted his eyes to Jesse's, his grin was mocking. "You might be surprised." He turned, then and left without bothering to tell Aubrey good-bye.