by Mae Clair
“It’s the Twelfth Sun,” Elijah told her. “Probably custom made at Sothern’s request.”
Her spirits soared. They’d solved the clue with hours still to spare. “It’s beautiful.” She grazed her finger across the surface. A small tag was attached to the stem by a string. She tilted the box to examine the script, written in elegant calligraphy. “To a blue-eyed child,” she read aloud.
Her heart skipped a beat. She had the same strange sensation she’d felt sitting in the circular dining room, when she was certain someone had watched from the darkness. Alarmed, she looked at Elijah. “What does this mean?”
His mouth tightened. “I’m not sure.” He steered the car onto the roadway and headed toward Sothern’s estate. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good.”
Chapter 6
When eight o’clock rolled around that evening, everyone involved in the treasure hunt had successfully retrieved the item relating to their individual clue. Each article was in some way associated with the Twelfth Sun and each had an accompanying tag bearing the same inscription: To a blue-eyed child.
Elijah studied the items displayed on a side table in the circular dining room: a scrimshaw knife with an etching of the Twelfth Sun on the handle; a charm bracelet with twelve tiny sun medallions; a book of matches from a restaurant called Twelve Ships on the Bay; a battered ship’s float with the number twelve painted in black on all four sides, and the pocket watch he and Reagan had returned.
Something about the inscription made him uncomfortable, but he wrote it off as his usual social anxiety. Being forced to dress in a suit and tie for dinner didn’t help. He wore the same black suit as on his previous visit, but had managed to scrounge up a different shirt from the back of his closet, blue to match his eyes. He yanked at his tie, feeling overly pressed and pleated, all-around PO’d by Pellar’s stupid insistence that everyone dress appropriately for dinner. At least the irritating snip hadn’t demanded he get a haircut, a point at which Elijah would have drawn the line and bluntly told him where he could stick his damn restrictions.
“So, Doc.” Brody approached, scattering his thoughts. “What do you think of all this?” He nodded to the items on the table. “Is our boy Sothern playing coy, or is he one card short of a full deck? To a blue-eyed child. Sounds like a lot of BS to me.”
Elijah took a swallow of his seltzer water with lime. Despite his instinctive loathing of social situations, he’d decided to avoid alcohol at all costs, having learned the last time he had no tolerance for anything with a kick. “It’s too early in the game, Brody.” He lobbed his friend a sideways glance. “But Sothern doesn’t strike me as someone who does anything randomly.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, before the end of the week I’m sure it’s going to matter.”
Brody snorted. “I’m not so positive. We’ve never even met Sothern.”
“No one’s ever met Gerald St. Croix, either, He’s as reclusive as Sothern, but I feel like I know him from dealing with you. What’s it been?” He grinned. “Three years that you and I have been butting heads over artifacts? In all that time, St. Croix’s always been a shadow.” His grin slipped a little. “Sothern is no different. I don’t know why he’s always a no-show. Maybe he’s like me.” The grin became a grimace as he tugged at his tie. “Maybe he hates social situations and all this stick-up-the-butt formal stuff.”
Brody laughed. “You know, kid, for being as educated as you are, you really have a way of getting to the point.” He sipped scotch from an elegant crystal glass and nodded across the room to where Reagan talked with Livy and Alan Franklin. “I thought you’d be over there, drooling in the shadow of Miss Fair.”
Elijah winced. “Am I that obvious?”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s just as obvious on her part. If she follows you with her eyes one more time, I’m going to book the two of you a room.”
He grinned. It was hard keeping his distance from Reagan, especially when she looked so sexy in a slinky emerald and black cocktail dress. He’d hoped she’d spend more time with him, helping put him at ease, but she was doing that circulating thing women naturally did at social gatherings. Flitting from person to person, talking to everyone in the room, even Tarvick.
Brody huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t mind competing with you over marine artifacts. Hell, I don’t even mind losing occasionally, but I’ve got a real problem butting heads with you over women. Reagan’s closer to my age than yours.”
Elijah kept his eyes straight ahead, but a grin twitched the corners of his mouth. “So is Monica. You’ve got my blessings.”
“Bastard.”
“Lucky bastard.” He shot Brody an amused glance and realized his friend was grinning. “You’ll be sprouting gray hair in a few years, and I haven’t even hit thirty. Don’t take it too hard. I’m sure there are plenty of women who’d find a thirty-eight-year-old, stuck-on-himself con man with questionable ethics and capped teeth mildly attractive.”
Brody snapped his fingers in the air. “Oh, Clarice? Can we get some wine for my friend? Three and a half glasses should do it.”
“What are you two doing?” Reagan appeared suddenly between them in a wisp of emerald silk and honeysuckle-scented perfume. She’d apparently exhausted her socializing, and decided it was time to see what her geeky clue-solving partner and his friend were up to.
Elijah was struck by her scent the moment she drew near, a paralyzing combination of summery innocence and sultry promise. Her bare arm brushed his sleeve, sending a hot bolt of desire straight to his groin. He bit back an involuntary groan. Damn, how could a woman do that simply by waltzing to his side? She slipped her arm through his and his libido skyrocketed. His mouth was dry, the front of his pants unbearably tight.
Great. All he needed was for Pellar to stroll in while he was in the middle of a hard on. Self-consciously, he tugged his jacket over his zipper, but not before Brody saw what he was doing and why.
His friend grinned. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He caught Reagan’s hand and kissed her fingertips in a courtly fashion. “You look stunning, Reagan. I’m sure Dr. Cross would agree, but I fear he’s up to something that’s left him speechless.” He sent Elijah a sly wink.
Reagan watched as he strolled jauntily away. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” She smelled of summer and clover, of seaside and moon-drenched nights. He wanted to take her outside, onto the beach, and make love to her on the cool shimmery sand. His pants were so tight it was painful. He was never going to last a week. Not when he couldn’t survive one bloody evening. He dragged a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. “Pellar’s already logged in our clue. We don’t have to stay for dinner.”
She looked at him quizzically, her face upturned to his. Red-gold hair streamed down her back in a coppery waterfall. “You want to leave?”
“Yes.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. He pulled her closer and felt an electric jolt when her hip brushed his thigh. “Let’s go for a walk along the beach. We can grab something from the kitchen later.”
She bit her lip, doubtful. “Wouldn’t that be rude?”
“No more than our host’s continual absence.” He took her hand and led her to the doorway. She followed, still obviously reluctant, but without protest. When they stepped outside, he felt her reservations melt.
The night was cool, silvered with twilight. Dusk hugged the ocean, rolling on waves capped with white foam. The sun threaded into the horizon, unspooling vibrant bands of scarlet, violet and plum. Elijah took off his socks and shoes. At his side, Reagan slipped out of her high-heeled sandals, leaving her slim legs distractingly bare. He gathered her hand and led her over the dune break to the wide stretch of beach bordering the rear of Sothern’s home. Water surged and swelled around their bare feet, pushed by the gentle flow of low tide. It soaked the bottom of Elijah’s trousers, leaving the ends clumped with wet sand.
“You should have rolled up your pants,
” Reagan said with a worried glance for his saturated trousers.
He shrugged, unconcerned despite the suit being the only semi-formal attire he owned. “I’m sure Pellar can have them dry cleaned.” The breezy night air coupled with the shivery touch of water lapping around his ankles helped clear his head. He pulled the knot from his tie and left the ends dangling against his chest.
“I hate formal dinners. They always remind me of when I was kid and had to attend college functions. Everyone was so much older and sure of themselves.” He grimaced, thumbing open the top two buttons of his shirt. “I was the local freak show. An egghead kid out of his league socially. I hated it. Guess I never got over it.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Is that why you drank all that wine last week?”
He winced at the memory. “Pretty stupid for a guy with a PhD, huh? Ask me to lecture a packed auditorium on the latest marine salvage techniques, and I have no problem. Ask me to sit at a dinner table and make small talk about the weather, and I suddenly forget the rudimentary elements of speech.” He stepped nearer, his eyes dropping to her lips. “But I didn’t ask you out here to talk about my lack of social skills.”
Her eyes grew wide. She flattened a palm against his chest and pushed. “Back off, Dr. Cross. We had a deal. One week, remember?”
He wasn’t going to give that easily. Not this time. Not when the breeze was rippling the low neckline of her dress, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of a black bra beneath. Did her panties match? Suddenly the throbbing fire was back in his groin, making his pants uncomfortably tight. The wind blew the tails of his jacket back from his hips, revealing his prominent arousal.
Reagan noticed and colored. “Elijah, we agreed–”
He snagged her wrist. “I didn’t agree to anything, except that I’m going crazy wanting you.” The breeze flirted around the hem of her skirt, showing him more and more of her shapely legs. The surf crashed behind him and he felt the same rolling thunder in his veins. He didn’t want their relationship built on lust but, damn, his restraint had limits. Her eyes were wide, more black than green in the velvety shadows. Her bare arms glimmered with the soft glow of fading light.
Elijah tugged her forward. “Would it really be so horrible to kiss me?” Before she could answer, he crushed her in his arms and covered her mouth with his. Heat sprang between them, a shocking explosion that made the crash of the ocean mute by comparison. It danced like a live wire, crackling with electricity and denied passion.
The sensation blindsided him. He couldn’t stop, overwhelmed by her scent and the soft press of her luscious curves against his body. He slipped one hand behind her head and held her in place, devouring her mouth beneath his own. She resisted only a moment, melting in his arms as he plundered her mouth with fire and warmth. She trembled in his embrace, parting with a low whimper. If he didn’t stop soon, he’d end up taking her on the sand.
He broke the kiss and bowed his forehead against hers, breathing raggedly. “I don’t have your control. I want to make love to you. Here, now, on the sand.”
Her lips were moist and puffy, fuller from his kiss. “No.”
“You think all I care about is sex.”
Her eyes were overly bright. “I think sex drove you in the past.” She touched his face. “If that’s all you want with me, I’m not interested. It doesn’t matter how handsome I think you are. I don’t do one-night stands.”
He groaned and dragged her against him. Bowing his face into her long hair, he hugged her close. Desire spiked in his blood. Hot, demanding and urgent. With concentrated effort, he struck it down, focusing on the way she clung to him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. Her lips brushed his cheek.
“Maybe we should go back inside,” she whispered.
He nodded, disentangling himself, and shoved his fingers into his hair, trying to calm the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m not a predator, Reagan. You just…do things to me. Pellar probably has an unflattering name for it. Then again, Pellar has a hoard of unflattering names for me.” He slung his arm over her shoulders and steered her toward the house.
“You’re forgiven. I can’t fault a man who kisses like you do.” She grinned up at him and slipped her arm beneath his jacket, around his waist. Overhead, the first stars of evening appeared in the sky, soft blue, sparkling like fairy dust. “I love the night sky,” she said, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder as they walked. “My mother used to say it was magical, that the first star of evening was worth a billion wishes.”
Elijah chuckled. “After my mother died, my sister used to tell me our mother’s love was like the Southern Cross, something we couldn’t see. Even though she was gone, her love would always be there.” He shoved his free hand in his pocket, disturbed by the memory and how Eden had woven a connection for him with a constellation on the other side of the world. “When she left, she wrote a note saying the same thing. That she loved me and I should never forget the Southern Cross. Fanciful stuff, but I’d rather roam the seas.” He shook his head. Was she even alive? They’d been so close, but that hadn’t mattered when drugs and some jerk who’d promised her fun and excitement entered the picture.
He looked down on Reagan, drinking in her scent and the dark pools of her green eyes upturned to his. He felt the pressure of her head against his shoulder. She was beautiful and ethereal, sculpted of starlight. He flicked a finger beneath her chin and kissed her softly.
“Just in case I haven’t told you,” he murmured against her lips. “You outshine every star in the sky. I’d wait a lifetime for you, Reagan. I can last a week.”
* * * *
Later that evening, Reagan couldn’t sleep. Her mind was filled with memories of Elijah and the head-reeling sensation of being in his arms. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the warm pressure of his lips against hers, hungry and passionate, sending her senses into a tailspin. Could she survive the week without crawling into bed with him? Knowing he was a few steps away on the other side of the shared bathroom sent a fierce stab of longing through her heart. They were both adults. Mature, responsible. Surely, they could manage four more days of clues without being sidetracked by base instinct.
But she was no longer drawn by physical magnetisim. He was handsome, drop dead gorgeous and then some, but she’d grown attracted to the man. To his unique combination of quirky genius, energetic youth, and riveting sensuality. She enjoyed his company, views, even his off-the-cuff attitude. The ten-year gap in their ages didn’t seem as important as it had a week ago, the memory of their first meeting slowly taking on a silliness she hadn’t thought possible. Thinking about him standing naked in his bedroom no longer made her flush with embarrassment. Instead, it induced a warm tingling in her stomach that threatened to erupt in full-fledged desire if she wasn’t careful.
She sighed and slipped from bed, grabbing her robe. It was useless trying to sleep when her head was so full of Elijah. If there was any justice in the world, he was tossing and turning on the other side of the wall, plagued by erotic dreams of them making love on the beach. Reagan flushed, silently admitting she wouldn’t mind having those same dreams.
She left the bedroom behind and padded barefoot down the long staircase. The house was quiet, draped in shadows and pale ghostly patches of moonlight. She headed to the kitchen where she rummaged up a bowl of strawberry ice cream and a cold glass of milk. Deciding to have her snack on the sundeck, she skirted the circular dining room and headed toward the rear of the house. Her feet whispered against the plush-pile carpet making barely a sound. She rounded the corner and immediately came to a halt, startled by voices directly ahead of her. Low, secretive tones that made her hesitate. Curious, she drew back into the shadows, watching from a bend in the hallway.
Brody and Pellar stood a short distance away, talking in sharp whispers. Brody’s usual jauntiness was gone, replaced by uncharacteristic sternness. Even in the darkness, Reagan could see his eyes were narrowed, his expression unforgiving.
&n
bsp; “You have to!” he hissed at Pellar. “You know how important this is. Four more days and you can do whatever you want. We had a deal. I’m not letting Elijah walk out of here.”
The older man heaved a sigh. “This is crazy.” His voice was different, deeper and smooth without the upper crust air she was used to hearing. “You’re both idiots for thinking you can pull this off. The moment he figures it out–”
“He isn’t going to. Not until it’s time.” Brody jabbed a finger against Pellar’s chest. “Do your part. I know Elijah Cross. He’ll play this to the end.”
“And you think that’s going to matter?”
Brody grimaced. “I only know we have to try.”
“Alright.” Pellar raised both hands and shook his head. “I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I’m making. I could be touring somewhere with a legitimate company.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Pellar snorted. “You and Sothern, or you and St. Croix?”
“Take your pick.” Brody grinned and clapped him on the back, steering him down the hallway. Their voices continued, muted and indecipherable as they moved away.
Reagan stood rooted to the spot, her heart hammering loudly. She didn’t understand any of what she’d heard, but none of it sounded comforting. Brody was up to his ears in something that involved Elijah, and he’d dragged Pellar into the mix. Yet the Pellar who’d conversed with Brody moments ago was not the Pellar who fussed and fidgeted, treating them all like unruly school children. This man was composed, sure of himself. Was it possible Pellar and Brody had reached a private agreement for the purchase of Jeremiah Rook’s journal? Perhaps Pellar was feeding Brody information behind Sothern’s back, ensuring he would win the treasure hunt. Did he plan to sabotage the others? They were obviously worried about Elijah. Maybe Brody considered him the only true competition. But what did he mean when he’d said I’m not letting Elijah walk out of here?
