“No. I’m not going to run from memories anymore.”
The torment in his eyes made him look fierce. “But don’t run from me either.”
She caressed his face gently, trying to smooth away the concern and disappointment there. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “You’re part of my soul.” She put her arms around his neck and held him almost desperately. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you,” she said raggedly. “Be patient, Alejandro. And never forget that I adore you.”
With a muffled groan that conveyed both love and bittersweet frustration, Duke buried his face in her golden hair.
Nine
“Hello, ladies. Welcome to Estate Mendocino.”
The looks Shea received for her polite words ranged from sullen to awed. Ten teenage girls stood in the reception area outside her office, accompanied by a female counselor from the group home. All wore shorts and lightweight tops, but uniformity ended there. Several of the girls resembled discount versions of Madonna, a couple were dressed in clothes three sizes too large, and the rest had discovered their own ways to proclaim their individuality.
Shea’s eyes were drawn repeatedly to the most hostile of the group, a chubby brunet who wore a huge Los Angeles Rams football jersey, cutoffs, and unlaced basketball shoes. The girl had ancient green eyes in a face that could have been pretty except for its perpetual scowl. Her hair was shoulder length and shaggy. There was something about the girl’s attitude that made Shea’s insides churn with recognition.
Taking a deep breath, Shea plunged onward. “We’re glad to have you as our guests here at Estate Mendocino, one of the finest health resorts in the world. ”
“Yeah, sure, you’re glad to have us,” muttered the brunet. “And Princess Di wants to invite us to tea too.”
Shea decided it was pointless to continue the niceties. “Save the wisecracks for your first comedy spot on TV. I’m taking you guys to visit the estate’s personaldesign studio. In other words, we’re spending the morning in the beauty parlor. Beauty is only skin deep, but self-image goes straight to the bone. Anybody who wants a make-over can have one. Anybody who doesn’t can go swimming. Any questions?”
“I don’t want a make-over, and I don’t want to go swimming,” the brunet retorted.
“Then read a magazine,” Shea told her.
“I hate to read.”
“Yeah,” someone interjected, “she’s too busy eating to have time to read.”
The brunet turned menacingly toward the source of that comment and gave her some inventive instructions about her anatomy. Shea rubbed her forehead and grimaced. She hadn’t heard this kind of crude repartee in years, and she’d forgotten how creative girls could be with words like those. She waved one hand toward the hallway.
“If you please, ladies. Beauty awaits.”
The brunet sat morosely in a corner, watching the other girls get makeup and hair styling advice from the studio director and her assistants. The brunet was doing her best to give the impression that she wouldn’t mind if the whole world went to hell. Shea’s sympathies were drawn to her aggression and isolation, and she had the uncanny feeling that she’d known this girl all her life. She walked over and sat down beside her.
“I’m fourteen, my name’s Amanda, and no, I don’t want to make friends,” the girl told her bluntly.
“I’m twenty-nine, you already know my name, and I don’t want to make friends either.” Shea suppressed a victorious smile when the girl looked at her askance. “I just want to talk. I’m as bored with this as you are.”
“You? Hell, lady, you look like you spend half your day in joints like this.”
“Wrong, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I don’t need this makeup and hair crap. I like myself the way I am.” Amanda squinted at her angrily. “And I don’t mind being fat, so don’t do a psychology job on me. ‘Poor little defensive fat kid.’ ”
“Great. Let’s blow this joint and go swimming.”
“Don’t try to talk cool, lady. It’s like watching Mary Poppins try to break dance. Unbelievable.”
“I’m not as G-rated as I look. Now what about that swim?”
“I said before that I don’t like to swim.”
“All right, I’ll bite. What do you like to do?”
“Pick up men and drink beer.”
Shea didn’t believe it for a minute. Yesterday she’d watched this girl cringe like a frightened rabbit when Duke introduced himself at the stables. She was afraid of people, men in particular.
“Picking up men and drinking beer sounds interesting,” Shea responded.
“You never picked up a guy in your life. Goldilocks. And I bet you don’t drink anything but champagne.”
“I’ve developed a fondness for Mexican beer. And tequila.”
“Yeah, and I’m Meryl Streep.”
“Now there’s a fascinating comment. Are you interested in acting?”
“Maybe.” Her eyes lit with enthusiasm for a brief moment, as if a dark curtain had parted to allow light through. The curtain closed quickly. “Hey, I don’t have to talk to you.”
“Who said otherwise?”
Amanda twisted in her chair and looked resolutely stubborn. “I was forced to come to this stupid place, but I don’t have to like it. Or you.”
“Who forced you to come here?”
“My mother.” Amanda smiled thinly. “The social worker told her it’d be good for me, and Ma never misses an opportunity to do what’s good for me. ‘Specially since she doesn’t give a damn if I’m around or not.”
The green eyes suddenly filled with tears. Shea’s throat closed with a sympathy that went much deeper than Amanda could know, and she laid a soothing hand on the girl’s arm. Amanda jumped as if she’d been burned with hot metal.
“Don’t touch me,” she snarled. “Keep your freaking manicured hands to yourself.” A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away roughly. “Where’s the john around this place?”
“That way.” Shea pointed toward an exit, and the girl leapt up. “Amanda, it’s okay …”
“Nothing’s okay,” Amanda shot back, and, one hand covering her face, ran from the room.
Prince Shalukan was rewriting the American Revolution. His armada of British gun ships menaced the city of Miami, which was represented by half a grapefruit he’d placed on the edge of the pool in his cottage.
“This would have changed the whole war,” he told Duke and Shea excitedly. The prince, a stocky, dark-haired little man wearing bright-print bathing trunks, waded from one side of the pool to the other, arranging his miniature fleet. “You see, the British would have taken Miami, and then the French would have—”
“Whoa, Your Highness,” Duke interjected politely, “there’s one thing wrong.”
The prince looked at Duke, then at Shea, his expression quizzical. Shea nearly strangled on repressed laughter because she didn’t want to offend him. Please, Alejandro, tell him what’s wrong with his battle. I can’t do it with a straight face.
“Is a good military plan, yes?” the prince asked.
Duke nodded solemnly. “Oh, the plan’s brilliant. Only catch is, the city of Miami didn’t exist back then.”
The prince gasped. “You are joking!”
“Afraid not, Your Highness. There were only a few towns on the Florida coast at the time of the Revolutionary War, and Miami wasn’t one of them.”
“My son, he tells me the wrong history! I send him to school in America, and he still gets things all wrong!”
Shea pointed to the grapefruit. “Let’s change Miami to Boston. We’ll cut an orange in two and make one half Philadelphia and the other half New York. Then—”
“Oh, shoo,” the prince said with mild disgust. “We call it quits for the night. My mood is gone and my skin is wrinkling from too much water.” He climbed out of the pool and his valet hurried to put a plush blue robe around his shoulders.
Duke stood and helped Shea to her feet. Prince Shaluka
n bowed to them, and they bowed back. “Thank you for being my audience,” he told them. “I shall gladly extend a favor in return. Good night. I must go watch Johnny Carson.”
When Duke and Shea were some distance away from the prince’s cottage, they began to laugh. Clasping his side, Duke finally managed to drawl, “The British are coming, the British are coming! Close the beaches! Hide the plastic flamingos! Call Don Johnson!”
Shea covered her mouth with both hands to keep from whooping out loud. She leaned against Duke weakly, gasping for breath, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m glad to see you happy tonight, querida,” he said tenderly. “I’m sorry that you were upset about that kid with the attitude problem.”
Shea had told him at dinner about the scene with Amanda. Now she rested her head against Duke’s chest and grew pensive. “I know that girl, Alejandro. We’ve just met, but I have a feeling that she and I are very much alike.”
They walked slowly along the path toward her cottage. She wore a yellow strapless sundress, and he stroked her bare arm in a soothing way. “Palomino, don’t be too openhearted for your own good. You’re nothing like that troubled kid.”
“I used to be,” she murmured under her breath.
“Hmmm?”
“Nothing.” Shea paused. “She compared me to Mary Poppins and Goldilocks.”
Duke chuckled. “She’s got the name of that tune.” When Shea thumped his chest in rebuke, he added quickly, “Don’t be insulted. I like you that way. I like you the other way too.”
“What way is that?”
“When you’re a wild mustang.”
“Stop, I’m getting identity problems. Goldilocks, Mary Poppins, a wild mustang …”
“I’d like to get in bed with the mustang tonight.”
Shea made a soft whinnying sound. As they reached her cottage door, she suddenly clasped her hand to her head. “Alejandro, I forgot to tell you. Sally Rogers called today to let us know that she’s going to visit Jason regularly at his foster home.”
Duke chuckled in delight. “Really? I think they’re perfect for each other—a big mouth and a bad mouth. I say that with affection on both counts.”
Shea opened the cottage door and led the way inside. “You have to admit that not all of the estate’s guests are selfish snobs,” she told him firmly.
“One out of one hundred and twenty-three. Not good bettln’ odds,” he teased. The cottage was dark, and she made her way carefully toward a lamp. Suddenly Duke grabbed her from behind and ran both hands over the front of her sundress, squeezing her breasts. She uttered small sounds of encouragement, and Duke’s voice dropped to a husky, rakish tone. “But the odds for my getting you naked and excited are real good, I’d say.”
Shea felt the heat begin to build inside her body and silently blessed his loving instincts. He always seemed to know when a rowdy approach suited her mood. They would tumble into bed, barely taking time to remove all their clothes or sometimes without even accomplishing that task. But tonight she felt like prolonging the wildness.
“Let’s play strip poker again,” she challenged.
“Hmmm, you love it when I talk poker terms to you.” He nibbled at her ear and whispered, “Aces high. My ace is already high.”
Her stomach tumbled deliciously at his teasing innuendo. Shea snuggled closer and pressed her rump into the tops of his thighs. “Oh, Alejandro,” she said with a sigh, “you’re not bluffing.”
They both groaned in dismay when the living-room phone rang. “Don’t answer,” he ordered gruffly, running his hands down her stomach.
“When I get a call at night, it’s usually something important.” He let go of her reluctantly, and she hurried to the phone on her coffee table. “Hello?”
Duke switched on a lamp by the couch and watched her expression become anxious as she listened to the caller. “Oh, no. No. He’s right here. Wait a second.” She held the phone out to Duke, her eyes full of worry. “It’s the group home. Amanda has disappeared.”
“Amanda! Amanda! It’s Shea Somerton! If you can hear me, please say something!”
The redwoods were majestic giants that made the flashlight beams seem like pinpoints. Shea swung her light in an arc that crossed and recrossed with the lights of the five people who accompanied her. Ron, one of the estate’s gym instructors, sighed loudly.
“She must have really been upset to run away before dinner,” he muttered. “From what I heard, the fat kid never missed a meal in her life.”
Old wounds opened inside Shea, fresh and agonizing. The pain combined with her concern for a girl who reminded her of her younger self, and she came to a rigid halt. Everyone else stopped too as she shone her flashlight into the staffer’s startled face.
“Ron,” she said in a hoarse whisper, “if I ever hear you make a cruel remark like that again, I’ll fire you.”
The other search parties were already back at the group home when she and her companions returned. All the lights shone in the main house, and Duke stood in the center of a crowd on the porch. His dark gaze rose over people’s heads as her party walked out of the forest, and he left the porch to come to her. Shea shook her head as he put a hand on her shoulder.
“Nothing?” he asked gently.
“Nothing.”
They walked back to the porch, where people were helping themselves to drinks and sandwiches brought from the estate. Duke handed her a cup of coffee. “Chug down every bit of that caffeine,” he ordered.
“Yes, hombre.”
The cup quivered visibly in her grip, and his expression tightened with concern. “Relax, querida, the police will find her.”
Shea looked at him in surprise. “Do you mean you’re turning the search over to them?”
“That’s the way these things are handled, Shea. Runaways are an expected part of the routine in counseling programs like this. Hell, I ran away from more than one group home.”
“And what happened?”
“The counselors called the police, the police found me, and I spent a night in jail. Then I was either sent back to Grandpa or to the group home.”
“I don’t want Amanda to be picked up by the police. It would terrify her.”
“That kid’s been in scrapes before. You read her history. I think she’s as tough as buffalo hide.”
“She’s not. I know her better than you do.”
He frowned, looking impatient. “Shea, stop overreacting. You just met the kid.”
“I’m going to find her. I can’t believe you’re so unconcerned.” Shea knew her voice was sharp, but she didn’t care. She felt as if she were defending herself, not Amanda. In a way she was. No one, not even Duke, understood why she could empathize so well with the girl.
His eyes narrowed and the skin tightened on his face, making the scar on his nose more vivid. Shea gazed up at him staunchly. His expression would have cowed anyone but her.
“We’ve done all we can do,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “I’m not unconcerned, I’m practical. This kid will make it to the road eventually, and the police will spot her.”
“Dammit, stop calling her ‘this kid.’ She’s a human being, and she needs my help.”
She had never spoken to him so curtly before, and his reaction was swift. Disbelief shadowed his features for a moment, and then he grasped her upper arm with a slow, firm movement of his hand. The careful pressure of his fingers against her skin warned that he had been pushed too far. Duke bent his head and spoke so that no one else could hear.
“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but it’s a little late for this self-righteous act. It doesn’t come across as sincere.”
His words struck her so harshly that she rested a trembling hand over the dull ache that squeezed her stomach. “You asked me to get involved,” Shea told him in a choked, furious voice. “You wanted me to bleed for these kids.” And because a cruel past was closing in on her, blotting out reason, she added raggedly, “You’
re lucky that I don’t hate you for that.”
“My God,” he murmured, stunned.
Shea replayed her thoughtless words and felt as if she were freezing inside a cold chamber. The darkest pain glimmered in his eyes, and his fingers dug into her arm as he struggled for composure. She tried to talk, to say that she’d do anything to take the words back. What had she just done to Alejandro, she wondered in despair.
As Shea gazed up at him in mute sorrow, a sergeant from the county police stepped to her side. “Ms. Somerton, I heard one of your staffers say that you’re upset. Don’t worry, we’ll find the girl.” Shea nodded and numbly switched her gaze to the officer. “This area is so rural,” he continued, “that there aren’t too many places she can get to on foot. She might even come back to the group home eventually.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
The officer looked around. “This is some kind of interesting search party you’ve organized. I’ve never seen so many Rolex watches and diamond rings in my life. Tell them to go get some sleep. And you do the same.”
Shea shook her head. “I can’t.”
“She will,” Duke interjected icily.
Shea jerked her gaze back to him and read the determination in his fierce expression. Angry, Duke was formidable. But she had done more than make him angry; she had hurt him so deeply that the wound might never heal. In his pain, he was incapable of compromise. The sergeant murmured good night and walked away. Shea continued to stand immobile under Duke’s bitter gaze.
“Stay here,” he said, nearly whispering in his effort to control his emotions. “When I come back, we’re going to have a long talk.”
He pivoted stiffly and followed the sergeant. Shea watched him tell the counselors, the estate staff, and the guests that the police were taking over now, and he thanked them for their help. She couldn’t take her eyes off his rigid back and proudly raised head; his anguish flowed straight to her and she wanted to cry.
But she knew what she had to do, and she could only pray that he would understand. She left the porch and slipped away in the darkness just as quietly as Amanda had.
California Royale Page 14
