“That’s okay,” Bianca said, not the least bit hungry.
“It’s really no trouble,” Bob insisted, his hands shifting items around in the freezer. “Aha!”
He pulled out a foil-covered package, removed the wrapping and placed the cake on a glass plate in the microwave. She hadn’t expected to be welcomed. Certainly not with coffee cake. Her uncle’s abilities as a host had thrown her, but then she supposed survival as a bachelor necessitated some domestic talent.
The scent of the defrosting cake mixed with the perking coffee. In the cozy kitchen, Bianca suddenly realized as much as she wanted to identify her stalker, she didn’t want him to be Uncle Bob. Seeing him puttering around his home, pouring them coffee, she couldn’t imagine him shooting at her on the beach, strangling her at the party or frightening her with threatening notes.
Bob peered over his coffee cup, his arthritic hands shaky but his eyes sharp. “So to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
After seeing this new side of her uncle, she didn’t want to break the peaceful atmosphere with wild accusations. Delaying, she sipped and set the cup back in the saucer before answering, determined to watch his eyes as he responded. “We visited Harry Pibbs yesterday. He said you’d been asking after my parents’ file.”
“That’s correct. Did he tell you why?” Bob met her gaze with a directness that puzzled her. This meeting wasn’t going the way she’d thought. She hadn’t expected him to admit so easily to requesting the file.
Craig swallowed a bite of cake, not the least bit reticent about getting down to business. “He mentioned you were looking for stock certificates.”
“That’s right.” Although he hadn’t drained his cup, Bob poured more coffee. “No one believes me, not even my sister, but before Bianca’s parents died, we invested in some stock. I was drinking a lot back then, and Bianca’s mother suggested she hold on to the certificates for me.”
“How much did you invest?” Craig asked.
A wry grin curled Bob’s lips. “Not much. We each put in a few hundred dollars.”
“The stock went up,” Bianca guessed.
“I don’t know.”
Bianca’s brow furrowed as she attempted to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. An investment of a few hundred dollars couldn’t account for Bob’s interest in the stock twenty years later. Nor did it explain why a thief would steal the file out of Harry’s office.
Perhaps she’d misunderstood. “We’re not talking about a huge amount of money, are we?” Bianca asked.
Bob chuckled. “That’s the mystery. I have no idea which stock your mother bought.”
Bianca sighed.
Craig didn’t look pleased. His chin cocked at a skeptical angle. “Do you have proof any stock was bought?”
For the first time, Bob wouldn’t meet their eyes but stared into the depths of his coffee. “I’ve searched for the missing papers for twenty years. I’ve never found them.”
She sensed Uncle Bob was holding back. “There’s something I don’t understand. This house, the stock . . . I always thought you were broke. Why do you come around asking Gran for ten dollars here, twenty there?”
Bob’s face flushed crimson, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. “I don’t drink all the time. But when I do, I binge. I’ll do anything, spend anything, for the next drink. I have friends who mete out my own money to me. It’s the only way I’ve managed to control my habit.”
The plan made sense. His answer explained why he wore nice clothes, had a good haircut, but didn’t have money in his pocket. Now she realized that the only time she’d seen him had been during a drinking binge.
Craig put the conversation back on track. “Harry’s office was broken into last week. Bianca’s parents’ file was stolen.”
Bob shook his head, his ruddy complexion turning pasty gray. “Because I asked about the diary, you think I stole the file?”
Tension filled a long moment of silence.
“It is a big coincidence,” Bianca finally said gently, wishing she could squeeze Craig’s hand under the counter.
“I wasn’t going to show you . . . but since you already think I’m guilty, what harm can it do?” Bob shoved away his coffee and stood. “Come with me.”
Bianca’s heart beat like a trip hammer. She had no idea what he was about to show them, but perhaps another piece of the puzzle would solve the mystery. Were the missing stock and the stalker somehow connected?
Bob led them through a narrow hall into a dark study. Shelves filled with books lined one wall. Just like the rest of the house, the room was neat. Not one paper was on the desk, no mail, no magazines, not even a crooked family picture. Bob pulled a chain dangling from an emerald-shaded desk lamp and cast murky light into the dim shadows.
He opened the top right drawer and, without hesitation, pulled out a manila envelope. “I shouldn’t have taken this. I hope you’ll understand why I did.”
Bianca’s mouth went dry. In her eagerness to see the contents, her fingers trembled as she took the envelope and poured the contents onto Bob’s desk. Two faded sheets of odd-size paper fluttered out. Along one yellowed edge, the paper was ragged as if tom out of a notebook. A neat script in blue ink filled the lines.
Craig bent over at the same time she did. Their heads almost touched.
“What is this?” Craig asked.
“Shortly after Bianca’s parents died, I broke into the house while she and my sister were out shopping.”
Bianca gasped. Gran had known someone had been in the house. Afterward, her grandmother had learned how to shoot. Later, she’d insisted Bianca learn, too.
“You were looking for the stock certificates?” Craig asked, his voice neutral.
Bob replied in a rush, his tone a plea for understanding and forgiveness. “I only wanted the half I was due. But when I couldn’t find them, I read your mother’s diary looking for clues. I ripped out these two pages. I took nothing else, I swear it.”
Bianca frowned. “But if you’d already read the diary, why did you ask Harry if you could see it again?”
“I thought I might have overlooked a clue in the first read. But I didn’t have to steal the diary. I was already fairly sure I wouldn’t find anything. I just needed to be certain.”
While she and Bob spoke, Craig read the two pages of the diary. “These words prove nothing.”
Bob slapped his palm on the desk. “It proves her mother and I invested in stock.”
Bianca’s legs collapsed under her, and she sank into a chair. She had few direct memories of her parents, and Gran’s stories had depicted her mother as a woman who was more interested in art and music than investments. Could this business side of her mother’s personality explain her own interest in pursuing a career like law?
She mentally reviewed what Bob had told them. If he’d searched Gran’s house, had he done the same to her place? “Did you ransack my apartment looking for the stock?”
“No.”
“Have you been following me, watching to see if I found the certificates and cashed them in?”
“Of course not,” he answered indignantly. “I have better things to do than follow you around. Besides, I think I know who has the certificates.”
Her heart somersaulted into her throat. “Who?”
“Harry Pibbs.”
“Huh?” His accusation had her sinking deeper into the chair. The kindly attorney who’d looked after her parents’ estate, who’d hired her, who occasionally took Gran out to dinner, had stolen their stock certificates? “I don’t believe it.”
“You don’t want to believe he did it,” Bob said.
“Harry had the opportunity,” Craig added. “If the stock was among your parents’ papers, he could have stolen the certificates, believing no one would notice.”
> “Exactly.” Bob’s voice rose an octave. “I knew the certificates existed, but who would believe a drunk? Harry could have cashed the stock in, and no one would have been the wiser.”
Bianca’s head spun. “I don’t know. Nothing makes sense. If Harry stole the certificates, do you think he’s also stalking me? What would be his motive?”
Bob frowned. “Stalking you?”
Craig spent the next few minutes explaining the situation to Bob. When Craig had finished, her uncle appeared just as baffled as Bianca.
“Maybe the missing stock has nothing to do with the stalker,” Craig suggested, his tone even.
At the square set of his broad shoulders and the diamond glint in his dark eyes, a sharp shiver ran up her spine. “Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know what I think.”
He’d answered her question about the stalker, but from his wary look, she suspected he’d spoken about her entire situation. His comment was the first crack in his armor. That he hadn’t made up his mind gave her room for a tiny spark of hope to flicker deep inside her. Perhaps Craig hadn’t totally closed her out of his life.
“The two of you are welcome to spend a few days here,” Bob offered, his voice almost a lonely plea. “I have extra bedrooms. Not many people stop by.”
Bob seemed pathetically eager for them to remain, but she’d never sleep under his roof, not until they identified the stalker. She still wasn’t convinced her uncle was innocent He’d ripped pages out of her mother’s diary. He’d been in Harry’s office a week before the file mysteriously vanished. He’d also been at the party. He knew where Gran lived and could have followed Bianca after every visit. No, she didn’t trust Uncle Bob.
Without her saying a word, Craig seemed to read her thoughts. He turned to her uncle. “On the way over, we could have been followed. We won’t put you in danger.”
“No one’s coming after me. Stay. Let me put you up for the night.”
Bob seemed so sincere, Bianca almost gave in. But she couldn’t jeopardize the babies. “Another time maybe. Please understand. We’ll be safer if we keep moving.”
BIANCA AND CRAIG might be physically safer if they kept driving, but emotionally, Bianca was a wreck. “Can we talk?” she asked.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I’d like to explain why—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” His voice was even, as if he no longer cared about her. Her stomach heaved, and she fought to keep down the coffee she’d just drunk.
Whether the reason for the emotional upset was due to her pregnancy and raging hormones, or because she was tired of running, no longer mattered. With all her problems, she couldn’t stand the difficulties between her and Craig. The constant worrying had worn her down, and she didn’t know what to say or do to make things right between them.
“Stop the car, please. My stomach feels as if I’m about to heave, and I need to call Gran.”
Without a word, Craig pulled into a shopping center. He parked and started to get out of the car.
She couldn’t think of a polite way to get rid of him for the next few minutes. Almost choking on the words, knowing her request would make Craig distrust her even more, she gathered her courage. “I’d like some privacy.”
“Don’t stay on the phone long.” Craig stabbed her with a piercing look, shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, shaking his head.
He probably didn’t realize how cold he sounded. Craig just wanted her to be careful. Calls could be traced.
Bianca punched in numbers barely visible through eyes brimming with moisture. She brushed away a tear. It seemed forever until Gran answered.
“Gran!”
“You sound upset. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“We just saw Uncle Bob, and we’re heading back to LA.”
“Why are you crying?” Gran asked.
Bianca gripped the phone, wishing she could hug her grandmother instead. The stalker, the pregnancy, her fight with Craig, all caught up with her. She was a mass of miserable confusion without a clue how to straighten out the mess she’d created. “Craig found out I lied to him about my name. He’s furious. He thinks I plan to take the babies away.”
“Is he treating you okay?”
The words poured out in a rush. “He’s been so cold. He won’t talk to me about anything personal. I don’t know how to break through.”
“Where are you staying tonight?”
“I don’t know. Probably, we’ll find somewhere along the coast. Why?”
“Because the easiest way to break down a man’s resistance is with actions, not words.”
“What are you saying?”
“Girl, you spent too much time studying for your classes and worrying over me to know what to do with a real man. Go to him.”
“He won’t listen.”
Gran chuckled. “Take him to bed.”
Bianca almost dropped the phone. “I couldn’t.”
“Sure you can.”
She gulped. Gran didn’t understand. Desperation made her speak the truth. “He doesn’t want me. Not like that.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He wants you. Don’t give him a chance to remember he’s mad.”
“Huh?”
Gran chuckled again, planning strategy like a general. “Wait until he’s asleep. Sneak under the covers. Let nature take its course.”
Where would she find the courage to follow through? “I don’t know, Gran.”
From across the parking lot, Craig motioned Bianca to hurry.
“For once in your life, take a chance. He’s a good man. If you let him get away, you’ll regret missing this opportunity for the rest of your life.”
When Bianca didn’t hang up, Craig walked over. Quickly, she whispered into the mouthpiece, “I’ll think about what you said.”
“Oh, one other thing.”
“Yes?” she said hesitantly, imagining Gran’s twinkling eyes and her cheeky grin.
“When you climb into his bed, make sure you don’t have any clothes on.”
Chapter Eleven
WITH GRAN’S WORDS in mind, Bianca chose Simpson House for her seduction, hoping one of the loveliest places in Santa Barbara would lend her courage and put Craig in a romantic mood. The grand Eastlake-style Victorian stood secluded behind wrought-iron gates and high hedges on nearly an acre of majestic oak, pittosporum and magnolia trees.
Her elegant room had a brass bed with a down comforter under a lace coverlet. Instead of allowing the antique furniture and Oriental rug of the luxurious room to soothe her, her attention was drawn like a magnet to the connecting door to Craig’s room. Could she step over the threshold tonight, put her fears behind her and open her heart to Craig? With him, everything seemed possible and within reach.
She’d always closed herself off to protect herself from the eventual pain of abandonment. The foundations of the self-protective mechanisms guarding her heart had been laid the first time she’d been old enough to ask Gran why her mom and dad had to die. That child had had a big hollow place inside her that couldn’t be filled. She’d lie still and quiet wrapped in her mother’s sweater, wondering what she had said or done to make them leave her. If she tried really hard, she could smell her mother’s scent, and then with the faintest whiff of wildflowers around her, she’d cry herself to sleep.
More walls went up when her grandfather died. Most recently, Kendrick’s self-centered behavior had locked the door. Now she had to break free and risk a full commitment to love.
But that was all psychobabble. In reality she might understand why she acted as she did, but she was trembling so hard her stomach knotted. She felt like ants were crawling under her skin and couldn’t hold still. Going to Craig, naked, had her heart leaping up her throat
. Being that vulnerable made her want to run away, far away.
And yet . . .
Maybe Gran was right. She was already in love with Craig. But facing those feelings, acting on them, had her so nervous she couldn’t eat. And the fear that she might want him in a way he didn’t want her had her pacing.
Shaking.
Her mouth bone dry.
But she had to find out if she could change his mind. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t. Because if she didn’t try something, she’d lose him anyway.
Why didn’t telling herself she had nothing to lose make her feel better?
Because Gran might be wrong.
Because the idea of seducing him was insane.
Her mind circled, and she paced some more.
“I love him.” In the empty room, she said the words aloud, liking their feel and taste on her tongue.
At the bay window, she stared into the rose garden below, but she couldn’t shake the mental image of that closed door. To cross the threshold, she had to open the door wide. She had to expose her emotions. Go for broke.
Like a prisoner kept in a cell her entire life, she feared leaving what she knew. At the same time, a whole world awaited her if she dared to take a chance.
Nothing in her past had prepared her for this moment because she’d never felt so excited or so vulnerable before. Even if Craig never loved her in return, he’d taught her to dream.
The jitters zinging through her were symptoms of self-doubt mixed with excited anticipation. Although she had no idea where she’d find the nerve to pull off a seduction, the new feelings propelled her to her duffel bag.
She recalled Gran’s instructions and grinned. At least she didn’t have to worry over what to wear. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t smell wonderful. After a shower, she dried her hair and brushed it until her dark locks shone. No wig tonight. She would go to him without disguise.
Craig buzzed her room to ask if she was ready for dinner. Knowing she couldn’t eat, she declined. If he was disappointed, he hid his feelings well.
“I was going to tell you over dinner . . .” His voice was as smooth as fine brandy and just as enticing.
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