Hidden Star

by Nora Roberts

  holiday sale hunters, and find out if anyone remembers selling a green suit.”

  “It doesn’t seem like we’re doing enough.”

  “Sweetheart, we’ve come a long way in a short time.”

  “You’re right.” She rose, walked to the window. There was a wood thrush in the maple tree, singing its heart out. “I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.”

  “I’ll bill you for the professional services,” he said shortly. “And I don’t want gratitude for the rest of it.”

  “I have to give it, whether or not you take it. You made this bearable, more than that. I don’t know how many times you made me smile or laugh or just forget it all for little spaces of time. I think I’d have gone crazy without you, Cade.”

  “I’m going to be there for you, Bailey. You’re not going to be able to shake me loose.”

  “You’re used to getting what you want,” she murmured. “I wonder if I am. It doesn’t feel as if that’s true.”

  “That’s something you can change.”

  He was right. That was a matter of patience, perseverance, control. And perhaps wanting the right things. She wanted him, wanted to think that one day she could stand here, listening to the wood thrush sing of summer while Cade drowsed in the hammock. It could be their house instead of his. Their life. Their family.

  If it was the right thing, and she could persevere.

  “I’m going to make you a promise.” She followed the impulse and turned, letting her heart be reckless. He was so much what she needed, sitting there with his jeans torn at the knee, his hair too long, his feet bare. “If, when this is over, when all the steps have been taken, all the pieces are in place to make the whole…if I can and you still want me, I’ll marry you.”

  His heart stuttered in his chest. Emotion rose up to fill his throat. Very carefully, he set the bottle aside, rose. “Tell me you love me.”

  It was there, in her heart, begging to be said. But she shook her head. “When it’s all over, and you know everything. If you still want me.”

  “That’s not the kind of promise that suits me. No qualifications, Bailey. No whens, no ifs. Just you.” “It’s all I can give you. It’s all I have.”

  “We can go into Maryland on Tuesday, get a license. Be married in a matter of days.”

  He could see it. The two of them, giddy in love, rousing some sleepy-eyed country J.P. out of bed in the middle of the night. Holding hands in the living room while an old yellow dog slept on a braid rug, the J.P.’s wife played the piano and he and the woman he loved exchanged vows.

  And sliding the ring onto her finger, feeling her slide one on his, was the link that would bind them.

  “There are no blood tests in Maryland,” he continued. “Just a couple of forms, and there you are.”

  He meant it. It staggered her to see in those deep green eyes that he meant nothing less than he said. He would take her exactly as she was. He would love her just as she stood.

  How could she let him?

  “And what name would I put on the form?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ll have mine.” He gripped her arms, drew her against him. In all his life, there had been no one he needed as much. “Take mine.”

  Just take, she thought when his lips covered hers. Take what was offered—the love, the safety, the promise. Let the past come as it would, let the future drift, and seize the moment.

  “You know it wouldn’t be right.” She pressed her cheek to his. “You need to know as much as I do.”

  Maybe he did. However much the fantasy of a reckless elopement appealed, creating a fake identity for Bailey, it wasn’t the answer either one of them needed. “Could be fun.” He struggled to lighten the mood. “Like practice for the real thing.” He pulled her back to arm’s length, studied her face. Delicate, troubled. Lovely. “You want orange blossoms, Bailey? A white dress and organ music?”

  Because her heart sighed at the image, she managed to smile. “I think I might. I seem to be a traditional soul.”

  “Then I should buy you a traditional diamond.”

  “Cade—”

  “Just speculating,” he murmured, and lifted her left hand. “No, however traditional your soul, your taste in jewelry is unique. We’ll find something that suits. But I should probably take you to meet the family.” His eyes lifted to hers, and he laughed. “God help you.”

  Just a game, she thought, just pretend. She smiled back at him. “I’d love to meet your family. See Camilla do pirouettes in her tutu.”

  “If you can get through that and still want to marry me, I’ll know you’re hopelessly in love with me. They’ll put you through the gauntlet, sweetheart. A very sophisticated, silk-edged gauntlet. Where did you go to school, what does your father do, does your mother play bridge or tennis? And by the way, what clubs do you belong to, and did I run into you on the slopes last season at St. Moritz?”

  Instead of making her unhappy, it made her laugh. “Then I’d better find out the answers.”

  “I like making them up. I took a cop to Muffy’s tenth-anniversary bash. Couldn’t get out of it. We told everyone she was the niece of the Italian prime minister, educated in a Swiss boarding school and interested in acquiring a pied-à-terre in D.C.”

  Her brows drew together. “Oh, really?”

  “They all but drooled on her. Not nearly the reaction we’d have gotten with the truth.”

  “Which was?”

  “She was a uniformed cop who grew up in New York’s Little Italy and transferred to Washington after her divorce from a guy who ran a pasta place off Broadway.”

  “Was she pretty?”

  “Sure.” His grin flashed. “Gorgeous. Then there was the lounge singer in Chevy Chase who—”

  “I don’t think I want to know.” She turned away, picked up her empty glass and made a business out of rinsing it out. “You’ve dated a lot of women, I suppose.”

  “That depends on your definition of ‘a lot.’ I could probably run a list of names, ages, physical descriptions and last known addresses. Want to type it up for me?”

  “No.”

  Delighted, he nuzzled the back of her neck. “I’ve only asked one woman to marry me.”

  “Two,” she corrected, and set the now sparkling glass on the counter with a snap.

  “One. I didn’t ask Carla. That just sort of evolved. And now she’s happily married—as far as I can tell—to a corporate lawyer and the proud mama of a bouncing baby girl named Eugenia. So it hardly counts, anyway.”

  She bit her lip. “You didn’t want children?”

  “Yes, I did. I do.” He turned her around, kissed her gently. “But we’re not naming any kid of ours Eugenia. Now what do you say we think about going out for dinner, someplace quiet, where we can neck at the table? Then we can watch the fireworks.”

  “It’s too early for dinner.”

  “That’s why I said we should think about it.” He scooped her up. “First we have to go upstairs and make love again.”

  Her pulse gave a pleasant little jump as she curled her arms around his neck. “We have to?”

  “It’ll pass the time. Unless you’d rather play gin rummy?”

  Chuckling, she traced a line of kisses up his neck. “Well, if those are my only choices…”

  “Tell you what, we can play strip gin rummy. We can both cheat and that way— Hell.” He was halfway up the stairs with her, and nicely aroused, when the doorbell sounded. “Hold that thought, okay?” He set her down, and went to answer.

  One peek through the side panel of wavy glass framing the door had him groaning. “Perfect timing, as always.” With a hand on the knob, he turned, looked at Bailey. “Sweetheart, the woman on the other side of this door is my mother. I realize you expressed a mild interest in meeting my family, but I’m giving you this chance, because I love you. I really do. So I’m advising you to run, hide, and don’t look back.”

  Nerves fluttered, but she straightened her shoulders. “S
top being silly and open the door.”

  “Okay, but I warned you.” Bracing himself, he pulled the door open and fixed a bright, welcoming smile on his face. “Mother.” As was expected, he kissed her smooth, polished cheek. “What a nice surprise.”

  “I wouldn’t have to surprise you if you’d ever return my calls.” Leona Parris stepped into the foyer.

  She was, Bailey realized with a stunned first glance, a striking woman. Surely, with three grown children and several grandchildren, she had to be at least fifty. She could have passed for a sleek thirty-five.

  Her hair was a lush sable brown with hints of golden highlights and fashioned in a perfect and elegant French twist that complemented a face of ivory and cream, with cool green eyes, straight nose and sulky mouth. She wore an elegant tailored bronze-toned suit that nipped at her narrow waist.

  The topaz stones at her ears were square-cut and big as a woman’s thumb and earned Bailey’s instant admiration.

  “I’ve been busy,” Cade began. “A couple of cases, and some personal business.”

  “I certainly don’t want to hear about your cases, as you call them.” Leona set her leather bag on the foyer table. “And whatever your personal business is, it’s no excuse for neglecting your family duties. You put me in a very awkward position with Pamela. I had to make your pathetic excuses.”

  “You wouldn’t have had to make excuses if you hadn’t set it up in the first place.” He could feel the old arguments bubbling inside him, and he struggled not to fall into the familiar, too-predictable traps. “I’m sorry it put you in an awkward position. Do you want some coffee?”

  “What I want, Cade, is an explanation. At Muffy’s garden party yesterday—which you also failed to attend—Ronald told me some wild tale about you being engaged to some woman I’ve never heard of with a connection to the Princess of Wales.”

  “Bailey.” Because he’d all but forgotten her, Cade turned, offered an apologetic smile and held out a hand. “Bailey, come meet my mother.”

  Oh, good God, was all that came into Bailey’s head as she descended the stairs.

  “Leona Parris, meet Bailey, my fiancée.”

  “Mrs. Parris.” Bailey’s voice trembled a bit as she offered a hand. “How wonderful to meet you. Cade has told me so much about you.”

  “Really?” Attractive, certainly, Leona mused. Well-groomed, if a bit understated. “He’s told me virtually nothing about you, I’m afraid. I don’t believe I caught your full name.”

  “Bailey’s only been in the States for a few months.” Cade barreled in, all cheer and delight. “I’ve been keeping her to myself.” He slipped an arm around Bailey’s shoulders, squeezed possessively. “We’ve had a whirlwind courtship, haven’t we, sweetheart?”

  “Yes,” Bailey said faintly. “A whirlwind. You could say that.”

  “And you’re a jewelry designer.” Lovely rings, Leona noted. Unique and attractive. “A distant cousin of the Princess of Wales.”

  “Bailey doesn’t like to drop names,” Cade said quickly. “Sweetheart, maybe you ought to make those calls. Remember the time difference in London.”

  “Where did you meet?” Leona demanded.

  Bailey opened her mouth, struggling to remember if they’d spun this part of the lie for Ronald. “Actually—”

  “At the Smithsonian,” Cade said smoothly. “In front of the Hope Diamond. I was researching a case, and Bailey was sketching designs. She looked so intent and artistic. It took me twenty minutes of fast talking and following her around—remember how you threatened to call the security guard, sweetheart? But I finally charmed her into having a cup of coffee with me. And speaking of coffee—”

  “This is just ridiculous,” Bailey said, interrupting him. “Absolutely ridiculous. Cade, this is your mother, and I’m just not having it.” She turned, faced Leona directly. “We did not meet in the Smithsonian, and the Princess of Wales is not my cousin. At least I seriously doubt it. I met Cade on Friday morning, when I went to his office to hire him. I needed a private investigator because I have amnesia, a blue diamond and over a million dollars in cash.”

  Leona waited ten humming seconds while her foot tapped. Then her lips firmed. “Well, I can see neither of you intends to tell the simple truth. As you prefer to make up outrageous fabrications, I can only presume that you’re perfectly suited to one another.”

  She snatched up her bag and marched to the door with outraged dignity in every step. “Cade, I’ll wait to hear from you when you decide to grant me the courtesy of the simple truth.”

  While Bailey simply stared, Cade grinned like a fool at the door his mother had closed with a snap.

  “I don’t understand. I did tell her the truth.”

  “And now I know what they mean by ‘the truth shall set you free.’” He let out a whooping laugh, swung her back up into his arms. “She’s so ticked off now she’ll leave me alone for a week. Maybe two.” He gave Bailey an enthusiastic kiss as he headed for the stairs. “I’m crazy about you. Who would have thought telling her the real story would have gotten her off my back?”

  Still laughing, he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her on the mattress. “We’ve got to celebrate. I’ve got some champagne chilled. I’m going to get you drunk again.”

  Pushing her hair out of her face, she sat up. “Cade, she’s your mother. This is shameful.”

  “No, it’s survival.” He leaned over, gave her a smacking kiss this time. “And, sweetheart, we’re both black sheep now. I can’t tell you how much more fun that’s going to be for me.”

  “I don’t think I want to be a black sheep,” she called as he headed out again.

  “Too late.” His laughter echoed back to her.

  Chapter 9

  They did make it out to dinner. But they settled for grilled burgers and potatoes fried in peanut oil at a country fair in rural Maryland. He’d thought about a romantic little restaurant, then a fight through the teeming crowds downtown for the huge fireworks display.

  Then inspiration had struck. Ferris wheels and shooting galleries. Live music, whirling lights, the flash of fireflies in a nearby field, with fireworks to top it off.

  It was, he thought, the perfect first date.

  When he told her just that, while she clung to him with screams locked in her throat on the whizzing car of the Tilt-A-Whirl, she laughed, shut her eyes tight and hung on for her life.

  He wanted to ride everything, and he pulled her along from line to line, as eager as any of the children tugging on an indulgent parent’s hand. She was spun, shaken, twirled and zoomed until her head revolved and her stomach flopped.

  Then he tilted her face upward for inspection, declared that since she wasn’t turning green yet they could do it all again.

  So they did.

  “Now, you need a prize,” he decided as she staggered off the Octopus.

  “No more cotton candy. I’m begging you.”

  “I was thinking more of an elephant.” He hooked an arm around her waist and headed toward the shooting gallery. “That big purple one up there.”

  It was three feet tall, with a turned-up trunk and toenails painted a bright pink. An elephant. The thought of elephants made her smile bloom brilliantly.

  “Oh, it’s wonderful.” She grinned, fluttered her lashes at Cade. “I want it.”

  “Then it’s my job to get it for you. Just stand back, little lady.” He plunked down bills, chose his weapon. Cheery-faced rabbits and ducks rolled by, with the occasional wolf or bear rearing up at odd moments to threaten. Cade sighted the air gun and fired.

  Bailey grinned, then applauded, then gaped as wildlife died in droves. “You didn’t miss once.” She goggled at him. “Not once.”

  Her wide-eyed admiration made him feel like a teenager showing off for the prom queen. “She wants the elephant,” he told the attendant, then laughed when she launched herself into his arms.

  “Thank you. You’re wonderful. You’re amazing.”

&nbs
p; Since each statement was punctuated by eager kisses, he thought she might like the floppy-eared brown dog, as well. “Want another?”

  “Man, you’re killing me here,” the attendant muttered, then sighed as Cade pulled out more bills.

  “Want to give it a try?” Cade offered the rifle to Bailey.

  “Maybe.” She bit her lip and studied her prey. It had looked simple enough when Cade did it. “All right.”

  “Just sight through the little V at the end of the barrel,” he began, stepping behind her to adjust her stance.

  “I see it.” She held her breath and pulled the trigger. The little pop had her jolting, but the ducks swam on, and the rabbits continued to hop. “Did I miss?”

  “Only by a mile or so.” And he was dead certain the woman had never held a gun in her life. “Try again.”

  She tried again, and again. By the time she’d managed to nip a few feathers and ruffle some fur, Cade had put twenty dollars back in the attendant’s grateful hands.

  “It looked so easy when you did it.”

  “That’s okay, sweetheart, you were getting the hang of it. What’d she win?”

  The attendant perused his lowest row of prizes, generally reserved for children under twelve, and came up with a small plastic duck.

  “I’ll take it.” Delighted, she tucked it in the pocket of her slacks. “My first trophy.”

  With hands linked, they strolled the midway, listening to the screams, the distant music of a bluegrass band, the windy whirl of rides. She loved the lights, the carnival colors, bright as jewels in the balmy night. And the smells of frying oil, of spun sugar and spiced sauces.

  It seemed so easy, as if there couldn’t be any trouble in the world—only lights and music and laughter.

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a country carnival before,” she told him. “But if I have, this one is the best.”

  “I still owe you a candlelight dinner.”

  She turned her head to smile at him. “I’ll settle for another ride on the Ferris wheel.”

  “Sure you’re up to it?”

  “I want to go around again. With you.”

  She stood in line, flirted with a toddler who kept his head on his father’s shoulder and peeked at her with huge blue eyes. She wondered if she was good with children, if she’d ever had a chance to be. And, laying her head on Cade’s shoulder, dreamed a little.

  If this was just a normal night in normal lives, they could be here together like this. His hand would be in hers, just like this, and they wouldn’t have a care in the world. She’d be afraid of nothing. Her life would be as full and rich and bright as a carnival.

  What was wrong with pretending it was, and could be, for just one night?

  She climbed into the rocking car beside him, snuggled close. And rose into the sky. Beneath, people swarmed across the grass. Teenagers strutted, older couples strolled, children raced. The scents rose up on the wind, an evocative mix she could have breathed in forever.

  The downward rush was fast and exciting, making her hair fly out and her stomach race to catch up. Tilting her head upward, she closed her eyes and prepared for the upward swing.

  Of course, he kissed her. She’d wanted that, too, that sweet, innocent meeting of lips as they circled over the high summer grass, with the lights around them a rainbow gleam.

  They circled again as the first fireworks spewed gold across a black sky.

  “It’s beautiful.” She settled her head on his shoulder. “Like jewels tossed in the sea. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires.”

  The colors shot upward, fountained and faded on a booming crash. Below, people applauded and whistled, filled the air with noise. Somewhere a baby wailed.

  “He’s frightened,” she murmured. “It sounds like gunshots, or thunder.”