“Nick? Now how did he get in here? It’s not fair, you know, that you know my name and I know absolutely nothing about you.” He sidled closer to her.
She lifted her chin slightly. “Fair? There was nothing on my invitation, dear Baron, that said a thing about being fair. Now come.” She stood and looked down at him in the purple shadows. “Let’s head back. All this fantasy has made me terribly tired. I think it’s time I hit the hay.”
Nick watched her as she rose from the bench. A stray beam of moonlight splashed across her face and lit her remarkably honest green eyes. More women than he could count had said the same thing to him in the past four years—in slightly different words, of course, but she was probably the first one who meant she wanted to go to bed … alone … to sleep.
His smile went unnoticed by Halley, who was feeling around the pebbled walkway with her toes in an effort to find the spike-heeled shoes. Beneath that wonderful makeup job and sexy dress, Nick decided thoughtfully, was someone who had never come within fifty miles of a contessa in her life.
“Here, Contessa, allow me.” He bent over and picked up her shoes, slipping each one onto an arched foot while she balanced herself with one hand on his back.
“Thank you. I feel like Cinderella.”
“In that case, you’d have to leave one shoe behind, and those pebbles would hurt like hell.”
Halley nodded. “Right.” She comfortably hooked one arm through his. “I’d also have to run off, and there’s no way on earth I’d be able to manage that tonight.”
“Good.” He looked down and smiled softly. “I don’t want you running off.” He led her carefully back toward the well-lit terrace of the Harrington estate.
Later that night Halley stood barefoot before the French doors of her bedroom. Outside, all was still, except for the gentle breath of a breeze through the giant maple trees and several couples who strolled across the broad expanse of lawn. Tiny gaslights dotted the blackness like fireflies. Halley breathed deeply, then slipped through the doors and out onto the tiny, private patio, shielded from view by a thick, circular hedge of yew bushes and clumps of mulberry.
“A real fantasyland,” she murmured as the breeze ruffled her filmy nightgown.
She thought of her own apartment, a world away on the other side of Philadelphia. It was a cluttered, homey space in the old gatekeeper’s cottage on the Thorne Estate where she worked. Then she looked back through the open doors into the perfectly lit suite to which she’d been assigned for the weekend. Everything was perfect. The glistening white-silk and chrome furniture was accented by a slight smattering of pastel colors here and there on the upholstery and wall coverings.
She tried to imagine all her friends and acquaintances here, in this setting. It was hard to visualize. The Thorne Estate had been donated to the community by the Thorne family, and Halley loved her job there as director of the library, which was located in the main house. She loved the tiny cottage that was open to her friends at all hours of the day and night. She thought of them flopping on her couch and ordering pizza, laughing and crying and feeling completely at home. She thought of Archie, the hobo who lived behind the library in the old stable and sometimes came for tea in the gazebo, and the neighborhood kids who pasted their rubbings from the old cemetery grave markers on her walls.
Halley burst out laughing. No, these were definitely two different worlds.
But she could picture Nick, the Baron, here. Sure, she could see him easily stretched out on that long, lovely couch in his handsome tuxedo. Even when the wind had ruffled his dark hair as they walked along the path earlier, it hadn’t looked mussed. Nothing about him was haphazard, not his long, lean physique, nor his way of conversing, nor his elegant mannerisms. The Baron von Bluster was definitely not haphazard. But what was he, exactly?
Halley looked up into the sliver of a moon that caught her eye and whispered, “A dashing, romantic dream. That’s what the Baron is.”
A piercing scream from out of the darkness shattered her thoughts into a million tiny pieces.
Immediately following was a shot and a bellow and a scuffling of footsteps, although later Halley wouldn’t be able to tell anyone in what exact order these events had occurred.
She stood frozen in place, the hair on her arms and back of her neck standing upright.
And then, in seconds, impulse took over, and without a backward glance she plowed through the carefully manicured yew bushes and ran down toward the lake and the sound, her gown flattening against her body in the breeze.
Two
A crowd had already gathered near the edge of the lake when Halley, breathless and disheveled, arrived. “What is it?” She said, panting. “I heard a scream!”
Herb Harrington stood nearby in an elegantly tailored smoking jacket, every gray hair in place and a finely carved pipe held comfortably between his fingers. He looked over at Halley with a pleased smile. “I do believe we have a crime on our hands.”
Halley looked more closely into the circle of people. A male figure was prone on the tiny strip of beach that bordered the lake, his head resting sideways on the sand. Halley recognized the dramatic flash of white hair and the aquiline nose as belonging to one of the guests she had met earlier.
“A … a … of course, a murder!” Realization swept over her, along with a rush of embarrassment. “Oh, Lord, I thought … I really thought—” She began to shiver as the adrenaline slowed and the night breeze chilled her arms. When she peered closer at the man, she noticed a slight rising and falling of his chest and caught the small smile that flickered across his lips just a moment before uniformed men lifted him onto a stretcher. Halley grinned back at him, convinced he had gotten the best part to play. At least he got to sleep.
The deep, husky words that tickled her neck came from directly behind her. “And where were you, miss, at approximately 12:02 A.M.?” Nick’s broad hands covered her bare shoulders.
Halley turned around slowly.
Nick was still dressed in his tuxedo, but the jacket was flung over one shoulder now, and the stiff, white shirt sleeves were rolled partway up his forearms. The dark thatches of hair on each arm contrasted with the moonlit white of his shirt.
She smiled. “I definitely wasn’t cut out for the life of a contessa, Baron, nor this life of murder and mayhem. I almost called the police. For real!”
Nick laughed. “Well, it was a bit eerie, the scream and shot and all.” He took her hand and pulled her slightly away while actors dressed as policemen edged their way through the crowd of guests. A small, mustached man talking like the famed Hercule Poirot seemed to be in charge.
“It’s too bad this crime wasn’t planned for the Orient Express,” Halley said as she watched the questioning of the guests. “That’s always been a secret dream of mine.”
“Well, then, if that’s a secret dream of yours, we’ll do it,” Nick said.
She chuckled. “Of course. And my glass slippers will be waiting in Istanbul.”
“And anything else your heart desires.”
Halley felt his gaze lower to her heart and was suddenly aware of the scant clothing that only partially covered her. She quickly crossed her arms over the filmy lace that stretched across her breasts.
“Cold?” Nick smiled.
Halley wet her bottom lip. She felt silly and embarrassed, standing in the moonlight in her nightgown. And she felt cold. Freezing, in fact.
“Yes.” Her fingers wrapped around her upper arms. “I think I’ll head back.”
“Before being questioned?” Nick touched the back of her neck and lifted his fingers into her hair. One thick brow lifted in reprimand. “Contessa, you may end up in jail!”
Halley tossed her head and smiled at him. “At least I won’t have pneumonia! ’Night, Baron.”
She turned and strode off into the night.
Nick followed. Several long strides brought him to her side. “I don’t think you should walk back alone. Not with a murderer on the loose,” he
murmured.
Halley looked at him out of the corner of her eye and said, teasing, “How do I know I’m safe with you? Do you have an alibi for 12:02?”
“Well, I, ah—” He appeared confused.
Halley looked at him more closely, and the expression on his face answered her question. The Baron did have an alibi, and she was most probably curvaceous and lovely—one of the gorgeous lady guests who had showered such lavish attention on him earlier. She nodded knowingly and ignored the strange sense of discomfort she felt, then changed the subject quickly. “Nick, may I borrow your jacket?”
With a quick, smooth gesture he draped it over her bare shoulders. “Sorry, Contessa. I wasn’t thinking.” It wasn’t entirely true that he hadn’t been thinking. No, he’d been thinking a great deal about those bare shoulders … about the expanses of lovely, creamy skin that glistened in the moonlight and the pale, sensuous mounds visible beneath the web of fine lace. In fact, he’d thought a great deal about all parts of Contessa Ambrosia for several hours now. He looked down into the thick, silky mass of hair. “Better?”
“Much. Thanks.”
“To where are we fleeing?”
“I’m not sure about you, Baron, but I’m pooped and am heading for bed. I’m usually out like a light by eleven.”
“What an ordered life you must lead.”
Her laugh was husky. “Hardly! Although people have tried to impose some semblance of order on me for almost twenty-seven years now.”
Nick dropped one hand lightly onto her shoulder. “So you’re the spontaneous, impulsive sort.”
She looked up into his eyes. “No. Just disorganized. But I work well that way and manage to get things done. Give me a neat, orderly desk and I fall apart.”
Nick fingered a wayward slip of hair that had fallen across his hand. He was trying very hard to picture his lovely Tessa’s leading a disarrayed life. At a desk. Without the carefully applied makeup. Without those clothes …
“Here we are, Nick.”
Halley stopped walking when she reached the slight break in the bushes through which she had pushed herself earlier. She paused, then smiled up into Nick’s thoughtful gaze. “Well, good night.”
“May I come in?”
“Why?” The single, ungracious word jumped out, and Halley wished she could quickly grab it back. “I mean, it’s late, Nick. You must be tired, and we have a whole day of partying yet to go tomorrow. Conserve the resources, you know.” She laughed and slipped from beneath the warm, musky-smelling jacket. “Here’s your jacket, and thank you.”
Nick took it and stood there for a second, watching as Halley turned and pressed through the bushes. She was almost across the small flagstone patio when he separated the bushes farther and followed.
Halley spun around. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
Her voice was calm, but Nick caught the slight edge of irritation. “Wait, Contessa. Just a few minutes, please?”
His tone was gentle and friendly, and his eyes still flashed from dark depths, still held that sensuous sparkle. They also held something else, something Halley couldn’t quite put her finger on. Then it dawned on her: The Baron, for a brief second in the shadowy light of the moon, looked lonely.
Halley rubbed her cheek, then looked back into her suite. When she turned to Nick again, her face was lit by a smile.
“Okay, but only for a few minutes. I really do need sleep.”
Nick reached beyond her and opened the door. The boyishness melted away beneath his husky voice. “Certainly not for beauty.”
A bright blue knit cardigan was lying across one of the chairs, and Halley quickly moved toward it and slipped her arms through the sleeves. What was all this about, anyway? One minute he looked like he needed a sisterly hug and a chocolate malt; the next he was coming on to her and telling her—plain-Jane Halley Finnegan—that she was beautiful. Wouldn’t her romantic friend Rosie love it all!
“No, not for beauty, Baron.” She scooped up some books and a pair of glasses from the couch and dropped them onto the coffee table so Nick could sit down. “I don’t worry about that. Life is far too short.”
Nick watched her unaffected, casual movements as she slipped out of her slippers and sat down beside him. She curled her feet up beneath her and pulled the thick sweater down until it nearly covered the entire flimsy negligee. She was so damned unspoiled. And so sexy in an incredibly unpretentious way. His very own barefoot contessa. A delighted grin softened his face.
Halley’s brows lifted. “Now, Baron, was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”
Nick hadn’t the faintest idea why he had insisted on coming in. Oh, he knew what he’d like, but he’d known, too, there was no way in hell he’d end up in bed tonight with the Contessa. Still, there was something there besides those fires she’d lit in him, and he couldn’t seem to let her go, to walk away from whatever that something was. “As a matter of fact, there is something else, Tessa.”
Halley leaned her head to one side, waiting.
“I … I find you intriguing.” Hell, he felt like a kid on a first date! His wide mouth curved into a lopsided grin. “As a matter of fact, I like you very much, Contessa-whoever-you-are.”
Halley rubbed her cheek thoughtfully with two fingers, a habit her friend Rosie teased her about. Watch out, she’d say with a laugh, Finnegan’s brain patterns are going berserk again! It wasn’t actually her brain patterns going berserk this time, it was her heart … and other parts of her. And on top of it all was the incredible urge to laugh at the whole crazy, irrational, extraordinary scene.
The laugh mellowed into a smile, and Halley’s gaze finally met the black eyes that hadn’t stopped staring at her face. “Good. Intriguing is something I’ve never quite carried off before. Perhaps I’ve gotten something from this weekend, after all.”
“You don’t like weekend parties?”
“It depends.”
“On?” Nick had moved several inches closer to her on the couch.
Halley wondered why breathing had suddenly become complicated. “This is fine, as parties go.” She wanted to smile and laugh and tell him about late-night pizza parties on the floor of her living room, and picnics following the library fund-raisers. Her kind of parties. But she couldn’t seem to say another word.
“Contessa, I’m deadly serious.”
Halley forced a laugh. “Oh, dear, deadly isn’t a word to throw around lightly here.”
Nick touched her lightly on the shoulder. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured.
Oh, dear, no. If this was safe, what was dangerous in this man’s world? Halley swallowed hard.
“I meant what I said before, Tessa. You’re lovely and different, and I hope we can make the most of this weekend.”
“Stop it!” Halley’s face was so close to his, she could feel his breath on her cheeks and her heart beat wildly. “I think the fantasy element of this weekend has gone to your head, Baron.”
“It’s not my head I’m worried about.”
“You don’t even know who I am or what I do. I could be a lady of the streets, an actress hired by the mystery troupe … a … a …” She was breathing hard now and wasn’t even aware that her sweater had fallen open and her nearly naked breasts were almost touching his body.
“I don’t give a damn what you do, but I’m absolutely intrigued by who you are. I’d like to know lots more about you, Tessa. Find out what books you read and what you like in your coffee—”
“I don’t drink coffee,” Halley said quickly.
He moved closer. “I want to learn why you blush when I flirt with you, then appear so damn competent and sure of yourself when you pull away.”
“I am competent. The competent contessa, that’s me,” Halley whispered. The chill that had been in the air earlier had long disappeared, and she felt a thin beading of perspiration collecting between her breasts. She was sure the lights were dimming, as his hand settled lightly on her leg.
“I … love … competence …” he said as his lips closed over hers with gentle, sure pressure.
“Hmm,” she answered as her eyelashes swept down and she gave in to the warm surge of delight that eased through her body. She opened her eyes halfway.
“I’m still here,” he murmured in the tiny space between them.
“I thought so,” she said.
Nick’s eyes were wide open, caressing her face. He touched her cheek with one finger, running it lightly across her lips and up over the delicate cheekbones. How could one kiss bring him to the brink like this? He felt the pressure building and squeezed his eyes shut.
Halley waited, but instead of the warm press of his lips, a cold draft of air swept across her face. Her eyes shot wide open.
Nick was lifting himself off the couch, his long legs firm in front of her. He turned and leaned over, one arm straddling each side of her, his hands brushing her thighs as they pressed into the couch.
Halley dared to look up at him.
Nick dipped his head and kissed the end of her nose. If he didn’t get out that door in one minute, he wouldn’t be able to account for his actions, and what it would mean to the Contessa tomorrow. For reasons his foggy mind couldn’t come to grips with right now, Nick cared about tomorrow. “It’s late.”
Halley nodded mutely.
“And you’re tired.”
“Oh, very,” Halley answered in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.
Nick laughed as if she had said something funny, and dipped his head lower until a shock of his black hair fell forward and touched her face. He rotated his head gently, his smooth skin sliding across her heated forehead. Then he dropped tiny kisses across her cheeks and stretched back up to his full height. “I even love your freckles, Tessa. Now get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He was gone in a flash of black-and-white tuxedo, and in his wake was a vast ocean of heat.
• • •
“Contessa!” Nick strode across the library from where he’d stood next to the carved fireplace. A dozen heads turned and watched him, their gazes settling with obvious enjoyment on the figure in the doorway.
The Baron Page 3
