Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines

by Jo Leigh, Kathleen O'Reilly, Kay David

  She hesitated a moment longer, then resolutely pushed open the gate and stepped inside. Locking it securely behind her, Emma walked up the sidewalk to the entry. Her mouth suddenly dry, she reached for the doorknob and told herself she was being ridiculous. Everything was fine, and even if it wasn’t, what could a thief take from her that mattered? Material things meant nothing to her now. All she really valued was her bank balance, and no one could get to that.

  The old-fashioned knob was large and heavy. Emma twisted it sharply to the right, but it held and she gave a huge sigh of relief. She must have just forgotten the gate, that was all.

  Unlocking the door quickly, she stepped inside. Her pulse continued to race, though, and just to be on the safe side, she called out, feeling silly all the same. “Hello? Is anyone here?” She switched to Spanish. “La policía está aquí,” she warned in a loud voice. “Me entiende?” The police are here. Do you understand me?

  The only answer was silence, so she closed the door behind her. Listening closely, she stood immobile and waited. She heard no soft footfalls, no stealthy departure, no hint of anyone’s presence. Finally, after a few more minutes of listening to her heart pound, she accepted what the stillness told her. She was alone.

  Still spooked in spite of herself, she grabbed the wooden cane resting by the front door. She’d discovered it in one of the closets after moving in, and the heavy silver top, shaped like a bird’s head, had kept her from throwing it away. She’d check out the house just to make sure. With the walking stick in hand, she went into every room. Nothing was disturbed or missing. By the time she made the tour—living room, dining room, kitchen, then upstairs into the two bedrooms and the bath—she’d convinced herself everything was fine. Of course, someone could have circled behind her to hide, but why would someone even be there? A thief would run.

  She went back downstairs and into the kitchen, and that was when she realized she’d forgotten the maid’s room. A tiny closet-size area with a separate bath, it had a door to the patio at the rear of the house. She gripped the handle of the cane and tiptoed to the closed door beside the refrigerator. Taking a deep breath, she twisted the handle and pushed open the door.

  The room was empty. And the door leading outside was locked. Emma let out her breath in a whoosh and leaned against the wall, her legs suddenly trembling now that her foolish search was over.

  There was no one inside the house. She was fine. She was safe. She’d simply left the gate unlocked, her mind on something else. Like Raul Santos.

  She gave a shaky laugh and turned to go upstairs and shower. Just for good measure, she took the cane with her.

  Over the running water, she never heard the back door close.

  BY FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Emma was exhausted. The week had been a hard one, and she was looking forward to the end of it, despite the fact that on Saturday she had another party to go to. This one, a charity event, was out in the country at a club the expatriates favored called La Sierra. She didn’t want to attend any more than she’d wanted to attend the last event, but business was business. Reina had told her William Kelman would be there, and that was all it took. He had yet to come into the bank. If Emma had to woo him some more to obtain his account, then she’d do it. She didn’t have the luxury of being proud and hadn’t in quite some time.

  She spent the morning doing paperwork, her only interruption coming when her phone rang at close to one. She picked it up and answered.

  “You have a call from the States,” Felicity said.

  “A Mr. Leonard F. Davis III. Are you available?”

  It took Emma a minute to recognize the name, but when she did, her throat went tight. “Put him through,” she said.

  The minute she said hello, Leon said excitedly, “This guy is something, Emma, the guy you asked me to look up. How’d you hook up with—”

  She made her voice as businesslike as possible as she interrupted him and halted the flow of words. “Mr. Davis! What a surprise. I thought you were going to e-mail me this information.” She glanced toward her open office door nervously. “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

  “I was gonna mail you, but when I saw this, I had to make it direct. I’m calling on my lunch break. I don’t know what kind of bank you’re working for now, but this guy’s not like the customers we used to get here.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked calmly.

  “Well, for one thing, he’s into some serious money. Real serious. Most people don’t carry six figures in their local checking accounts, right? Out there in El Paso, he’s run more than that through on several occasions, some of it cash.”

  Cash deposits of more than ten thousand dollars were always scrutinized. It meant tons of paperwork and hassle, but the banks complied; they had to or risk more than they wanted if the deposits were ever questioned.

  “Did they check out?”

  “All the forms were fine. Nothing fishy on the surface.”

  As quietly as possible, Emma leaned forward in her chair, the phone in her hand. Felicity was at her desk, and as Emma watched, the secretary rose, picked up her coffee cup and walked across the reception area to the small kitchen that was concealed behind a screen.

  “Could you find addresses for him?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah, but…” His voice trailed off. She could hear the sound of paper being shuffled, then he spoke again. “There’s something weird about it, though. He lived in Washington, just like you said, but there’s a five-year gap.”

  Emma waited for him to explain, but he said nothing more. “A gap? What do you mean?”

  “I mean a gap. The guy just disappeared for five years. He lived at 1019 Oak Cypress Drive for seven years, Unit 302C. Took the paper, subscribed to magazines, had a credit card, then everything stopped. It was like he flew to the moon or something. Five years later he resurfaced.”

  “That’s crazy. Are you sure you looked—”

  “I checked everything. Nothing got past me, okay?”

  Emma bit her tongue. She’d forgotten how defensive Leon was. “And you did a great job, I’m sure. I just don’t understand, that’s all.” She peered through her office door and caught Felicity going out into the hallway. She was heading for the main section of the bank, probably the offices out front. A new vice president had just been hired, and Emma had heard the secretaries giggling and talking about the man. Seeing the woman leave, Emma felt a moment’s relief and spoke again.

  “What do you think the gap means?”

  “I don’t know, unless…”

  He didn’t say more, so she pressed him. “Unless what?”

  “Well, he did live in Washington. Worked at a big law firm there—”

  “He’s an attorney?”

  “Yeah, passed the bar first time he took it, no problem.” His voice went up a notch. “But listen, Em, maybe that was a cover, you know? Maybe he’s one of the alphabet men.”

  “Speak English,” she said impatiently. “What are saying?”

  “He could be a spook. CIA or FBI. Maybe even DEA, since he was in El Paso, too.”

  She’d considered every possibility, but not this one. She was skeptical. “That seems a little farfetched, Leon. And it wouldn’t explain the money. Lawyers do okay, but not that well, and government employees certainly don’t make that kind of money.” Except for William Kelman, she thought unexpectedly.

  “Maybe it wasn’t from a payroll. Maybe he funneled it for someone.”

  She spoke again, this time almost to herself. “There’s got to be another explanation. I can’t buy this one.”

  “Oh, there’s another one, all right, but you aren’t gonna like it any better.” Leon paused, the line falling silent for a few seconds before he spoke again. “The guy coulda been in prison. I checked but didn’t find anything. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, though.”

  “Leon! That’s ridiculous! What on earth would make you think—”

  A knock sounded on her open door, interrupting her wo
rds. Emma jerked her head up.

  Raul Santos stood in the doorway.

  SHE ACTUALLY WENT pale when she saw him, Raul noted. With a quick mumble, Emma Toussaint hung up the phone and came out from behind her desk to greet him. Raul tried to read the emotion on her face as she walked toward him, but he wasn’t fast enough. She recovered her composure immediately and placed a mask of politeness on her features. She’d been surprised to see him, but something more had passed over her face. Guilt? Confusion? Anxiety? He immediately thought of William Kelman and wondered if he’d been on the other end of the line.

  “Mr. Santos!” she said. “How nice to see you. How are you?”

  She held out her hand and he took her fingers in his, holding them as he answered, “It’s Raul, remember? And I’m very well, thank you.” After a moment longer than necessary, he released her hand, but the feel of her skin stayed with him. Soft and silky—and freezing cold. She was nervous.

  He told himself she couldn’t possibly have found out anything about him—not that fast. He smiled. “It was good to see you Monday evening. The restaurant is excellent, isn’t it?”

  “It is wonderful,” she answered. “Did your friend enjoy it?”

  “Yes, she did. I wanted to take her somewhere nice, but I had no idea where to go. She’s the one who told me about Santa Cruz and the opportunities here.” He held out the flowers he’d been holding by his side. “I brought your secretary a little something to thank her for her help, and I thought you might enjoy these, as well.”

  The delicate fragrance of freesias and white roses wafted up from the cone he handed across the desk.

  Her eyes widened in surprise, then filled with pleasure as she brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled deeply. “How thoughtful of you! They’re gorgeous. Thank you very much.”

  She looked both flustered and touched, as if it’d been a long time since a man had brought her flowers. He murmured his reply, wondering what she would think if she knew more about him.

  He pointed to one of the chairs in front of her desk. “May I sit, or am I interrupting?”

  “Please.” She gestured toward the chair.

  “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve actually come to set up a trade I’d like you to handle. You have that information I requested, don’t you?”

  Her expression went blank, then her brow furrowed as she obviously remembered. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Felicity told me you’d asked for some stock reports and I completely forgot. I’ve been so busy.” She shook her head in an embarrassed fashion and abruptly laid the flowers on her desk, turning quickly to the computer monitor sitting nearby. She began to type as she talked, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Maybe I can get them on-line. If I put out a rush request, it’s possible I’ll have them by this afternoon…”

  She wore a dark brown suit with a straight pointed collar. The severity of the cut and somberness of the color did everything it could to make her look unattractive.

  But it failed.

  He mentally shook himself and returned to the task at hand. The report didn’t matter, but she didn’t know that. It’d only been an excuse to return to the bank. He could use this opportunity to his advantage, though.

  “You could make it up to me in another way.”

  Her fingers stopped abruptly, and she looked at him, her hazel eyes darkening. “How?” she asked cautiously.

  “Have dinner with me Saturday. Surely by then the reports will be here, and we can discuss the details of the trade. You can execute it for me at the beginning of next week when you’ve got the time.”

  She wanted to say no. He could read the refusal on her face, but her business acumen wouldn’t let her. He was a major client, and she didn’t want to upset him. She couldn’t afford to upset him. He felt a moment’s sympathy for her, but ignored it and pressed his case. “It’s the least you can do,” he said with a smile, “to make up for forgetting about me.”

  “I didn’t forget!” she said quickly. “I assure you, that’s not the case. It’s just that I’ve been busy and—”

  “It’s not important,” he said, dismissing her excuse. “But come to dinner with me, anyway, and convince me of that.”

  She hesitated for a second. “I have an obligation that night, out at La Sierra—”

  “Oh, yes, the charity auction for the hospital. Las Hermanas de Socorro. I forgot about it.”

  She was trapped, and they both knew it. If he’d been unaware of the event, she might have been able to get away with her excuse, but not now. He couldn’t have worked it better if he’d planned it. He silently thanked Wendy for mentioning the gala.

  “La Sierra is on the road to Cochibamba, isn’t it?” he said in a pleasant voice. “I’ve heard it’s quite lovely out there.”

  “It is.” After a moment’s hesitation, she spoke again, saying the only thing she could. “Would you like to go with me? I could introduce you to some of the other expats, show you around a bit…”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Tell me where you live and what time to pick you up.”

  BY SATURDAY EVENING, Emma had begun to ask herself just what she’d been thinking when she’d invited Raul to attend the party with her. Reina would see them and she’d give Emma a hard time later. William Kelman obviously had a problem with him, too. To top things off, Leon Davis had practically insisted the man was a felon. She’d known all this and she’d invited him, anyway.

  As she pulled one of her endless black dresses from the closet, Emma tried to analyze what was going on, but she couldn’t come up with an answer. Sure, she found him attractive, but she hardly knew him, for God’s sake, and most probably shouldn’t let it go any further. Since her divorce, she’d made it a policy never to date anyone associated with her work. Actually she never dated at all. It wasn’t worth the effort, and besides, there were always questions, questions she didn’t want to hear or answer. But now she’d broken all her rules and asked out Raul Santos. It didn’t get any worse than that.

  When he’d looked at her with those dark compelling eyes and handed over those freesias, she hadn’t had a chance. Touched by his thoughtfulness, she had reminded herself that, in South America, it wasn’t unusual for someone to show up with a small gift for no reason—a box of candy, a bouquet, a book. She’d received them before, so why the reaction?

  Because she owed him, she told herself. She was embarrassed by her slipup with his account, and the truth was, he deserved an extra courtesy. If he wanted to go to a boring charity event with her, why not? Since asking him, she’d had more than one sleepless night to ponder the situation, but now, as it came down to the wire, she wondered if she was rationalizing her behavior.

  Either way, the man would be on her doorstep in fifteen minutes, and she had to get dressed. She slipped off her robe and stepped into the black sheath, then her phone rang.

  She picked up the receiver and Todd’s voice sounded so clearly over the line he could have been in the next room. Her heart almost stopped. In all the time they’d been divorced, he’d never called. Not once. She immediately thought the worst.

  “Todd! Is everything okay? Are the children—”

  “They’re fine.” His words were clipped and businesslike, but his rich Louisiana accent was thick as ever beneath the coldness. To her, a poor kid from the bayou, his way of speaking had represented class and sophistication. He’d wooed her with that accent. She hadn’t heard the cruelty in it until it was too late. “They’re just fine,” he repeated.

  Relieved by his answer, she sat down on the edge of her bed, the mattress sagging. He spoke again. “That’s not why I’m calling. I’ve got something else to tell you.”

  “All right.” Her tone was wary. “What is it?”

  “I’m getting married again. I thought you should know.”

  She had no love for this man, none whatsoever, but the knife he’d buried in her heart two years ago twisted onc
e more. Now her children would have a new mother. They’d forget all about her. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  “Did you hear me, Emma Lou?”

  He’d told her once that only poor people had two first names, and after they’d married, he’d refused to call her what everyone else did, shortening her name to Emma. Unless he wanted to make her feel like the miserable girl from the wrong side of the tracks whom he’d mistakenly married.

  “I heard you,” she said quietly.

  “The proper response to the groom is ‘Congratulations.”’

  His correction was so typical she couldn’t stop herself. “I think ‘My condolences’ might be more appropriate—at least for the new bride.”

  He made a sound of disgust. “Always with the smart answer, huh? My mother was right when she said breeding was everything.”

  Emma closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again as she spoke. If she agitated him, the conversation would only get worse. “Who is she, Todd?”

  “You don’t know her.” His words held as much disdain as ever. “She’s a Threadgill from Charleston. Her people go way back.”

  “Do the children like her?”

  “The children adore her.” He took the handle of the knife and pushed it deeper into her heart.

  “They’re already calling her mama, and they can’t wait for the wedding. Sarah’s going to be the flower girl and Jake’s carrying the ring. We’re getting him a tux.”

  “How…wonderful.” She felt faint.

  “I thought you should know what was going on,” he said. “In case the kids said something when you called on Sunday. They’re both excited about it, and I didn’t want it to be a shock or anything to you.”