"Not at all. I like it when you get fired up about something. Your eyes sparkle."
"I'll admit I'm a fanatic about music. When I play a piece on the piano or bang out a rhythm on some drums or just listen to a song on the radio, it changes me. It makes me feel better, more powerful and capable, less stressed. It transforms my life for those brief moments. I want everyone to have a chance to feel that way. Is there something wrong with that?"
She didn't know when his opinion had become important to her, but it had, and she seemed to wait forever for him to respond. She licked her lips in nervous impatience and saw his gaze drop from her eyes to her mouth, and just like that the air between them became charged with electricity.
"Alex?" she prodded. "You were going to say?"
"I have no idea. You distracted me."
She swallowed hard at the desire flaring in his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to your room."
"Just when things are getting interesting? Weren't you the one complaining that I always stop in the middle of a conversation?"
"Which you just did. I was telling you about my passion, and you didn't even respond."
"Oh, I responded all right," he said. "Believe me."
She felt a warm flush wash over her cheeks. "That's not what I meant."
"You want to know what I think, Julia?"
She slowly nodded. "Yes."
"I think you're the most fascinating, beautiful woman I've run across in a long time. I like your passion for music. I like that your dreams are big and bold. And I like the way you lick your bottom lip when you feel things you shouldn't feel—the way you're doing now." He held out his hand to her. "Come here."
Her breath caught in her chest. She couldn't. It was tempting, but it was wrong. "I can't."
He swung his legs to the floor and moved so quickly she didn't realize his intention until his arms came around her shoulders and his face moved within inches of her own. "You know what an engagement period is for? To figure out if the person you're going to marry is the one you really want."
"I think it's just supposed to give you time to plan the wedding," she said somewhat desperately.
"I want you, Julia. I think you feel the same way, even though you're fighting it as hard as you can."
"Even if I did want you," she said breathlessly, as his mouth moved closer to hers, "it would be a fling for you, a one-night stand. You said yourself that's not what I'm about." But wasn't that exactly what she wanted right now? His hands were stroking her back, his breath hot on her face, his mouth so temptingly within reach. Every instinct she had was telling her to go for it.
Her cell phone rang, the sound hitting her like a splash of cold water in the face. She jumped back. Alex's hands fell to his sides.
"Saved by the bell," he mocked. "Are you going to answer it?"
She grabbed the phone out of her purse and saw it was Liz. "There's no way I can tell her where I am right now. She wouldn't understand. I don't understand." She stared at him, feeling as angry with him as she was with herself, because he was confusing her even more. "I'm supposed to be in love with Michael. I don't know why I want you so much," she said honestly, "but I think you need to go back to your room."
"What I need is you. One kiss."
"It won't stop there."
"It will—unless you don't want it to."
"You're the devil, you know that?"
"I've been called worse. Don't you want to be sure, Julia? If you're really supposed to marry your Michael, then this won't bother you at all."
Before she could answer, his mouth covered hers with a purpose and determination that cut through her defenses. She might have been able to fight him, but she couldn't fight herself, too. She wasn't that strong. One kiss, she thought. Then she could get him out of her system.
* * *
"Julia still isn't picking up her phone," Liz complained. Michael didn't answer. He was busy scraping wallpaper off what would be the master bedroom in his new house. His shirt was unbuttoned, and there was a fine layer of perspiration across his chest. She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to look away and focus on the matter at hand. She'd been calling Julia off and on all day, but aside from one brief message from her sister stating that she was onto a new lead, there had been nothing but silence. "I need to talk to her about the newspaper article. And a man called our apartment earlier. He had a heavy accent, and he asked for Julia. His voice made my skin crawl." Which is why she'd come running to Michael's house.
Michael paused, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "What kind of an accent?"
"He sounded Russian. Just when I start believing that Julia is completely crazy to think she's that girl in the photograph, something happens to change my mind."
"I need a beer," Michael said. "You want one?"
"Absolutely." She followed Michael down the hall, into the family room/kitchen. "Hey, what's with the sleeping bag and pillows?" she asked, pointing to the pile in the corner.
"I've been sleeping here. That way I can work late and start early."
"On the floor?"
"It's not that bad," he said with a laugh. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a spoiled brat?"
"I think Julia has mentioned it a few times."
He opened a beer and handed it to her. "I don't have any glasses."
"This is fine."
Michael leaned against the counter as he sipped his beer. "Tell me more about the phone call. What did the guy say?"
"He asked for Julia. No, wait. He twisted her name. It sounded like Yulia. I said she wasn't home. He asked me where she was, when she would come back, if she had a cell phone number he could contact her on. He said he had to speak to her immediately. I tried to put him off. He got agitated, started saying something in Russian, I guess. Then the line went dead." She shook her head, feeling edgy and restless. Too much was happening too fast, and she was in the dark about most of it. "I really need to talk to Julia."
Michael nodded. "I'm sure she'll call you back."
"She hasn't so far. This isn't fair, Michael. She stirs up a hornet's nest, then leaves me to fight off the stinging bees."
He smiled at that. "You do love to be dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic. My life is spinning out of control. So is yours, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I've noticed," he said heavily. "But Julia is worth waiting for."
Liz wasn't so certain of that. The last few days seemed to be pulling Michael and Julia further and further apart. Michael was renovating a house and planning for the future. Julia was digging up skeletons and searching for her past with a man who wasn't her fiancé. She wondered why Michael wasn't more bothered by that fact.
"Why don't you help me scrape some wallpaper," Michael suggested. "It will take your mind off your problems, and I could use the help."
The last thing she wanted to do was scrape wallpaper. Then again, she didn't particularly want to go home, where the doorbell and the phone would keep ringing with mysterious strangers laying claim to her sister. "Fine," she said. "On one condition: We work for an hour, then play some cards."
Michael loved blackjack. In fact, he'd been the one to take her on her first casino trip to Lake Tahoe after her twenty-first birthday. Julia had stayed on the beach while Michael had shown Liz how to play craps, blackjack, and poker. She'd been hooked ever since. "I have cards in my purse," she said.
"You carry cards with you?"
"I have to admit I was hoping to talk you into a game. On your break, of course. I know you're obsessed with this house."
"I am obsessed with it," he admitted. "It's the first place that's mine. I've been living with my family my whole life. I've never had a place of my own. This is what I've always wanted."
"It's a great house."
"Julia will like it, don't you think?"
For the first time she heard some doubt in his voice. "Sure, she'll love it."
"You're just saying that, aren't you?"
> "I don't think it's the house you have to worry about," she told him.
He frowned. "I know, but the house is the only thing I can control at the moment. Julia is the wild card."
Chapter Ten
"Enough," Alex said, breaking off the kiss. He jumped off the bed, running a hand through his wavy brown hair.
Julia blinked, dazed by the last few minutes of passion and desire. "What?"
"This is..." He waved his hand in the air as if he couldn't come up with the word. "A mistake," he said finally. "I don't poach on another man's turf. What the hell am I doing? And what the hell were you doing—kissing me like that? How can you say you're going to marry a man, then kiss someone else like your heart is up for grabs—or at least your body."
She bristled at his accusatory tone. "You're the one who pushed me into a kiss. This wasn't my idea. You started it."
"You weren't fighting it. You were kissing me back."
"You took me by surprise."
"Yeah, well, the surprise ended more than a few minutes ago."
She stared at him, and then sighed. "You're right. I kissed you back. I couldn't stop myself. I'm a terrible person."
"Why don't you break up with this guy, Julia?"
"Because it's complicated. Michael stood by me through the worst months of my life. He held my hand while I watched my mother die. He comforted me. He did whatever I asked. He was a rock."
"So you say, 'Thank you.' You don't say, 'I do.' "
"My mother loved him. She was so happy the day we got engaged. She told me Michael was everything she'd always wanted for me. It was the first time she seemed proud of me. She didn't encourage my love of music. In fact, she discouraged it. She thought the radio station job was silly. She wanted me to get married, have kids, build a family of my own."
"So you said yes because of your mother?" he asked in amazement. "I still haven't heard a good reason. Do you love the guy at all?"
"Of course I love him. I just said that, didn't I?"
"Actually, you didn't. You said you owed him and it made your mother happy."
"I do love him. Michael is wonderful. He's probably too good for me."
He stared at her for a long minute. "So what's this about? You have a fling with the bad guy, then you marry the good guy, and everything works out great for you? What happens when you get tired of the good guy—are you going to have an affair?"
"I would never do that," she said, jumping to her feet in anger. "What kind of woman do you think I am?"
"I don't know. More importantly, I don't think you know. You are probably the most confused person I have ever met."
"You're the one who confused me because you took my damn picture twenty-five years ago." It felt good to yell at him, to let off some steam.
"And I am sorrier than I can ever say."
She sighed as he began to pace around the room. "What are we doing, Alex? We're both exhausted. We're not thinking rationally. We should call it a night and get some sleep."
"I'm not going to sleep. I'm too wired, even more now than I was before," he said. "You have a way of doing that to me, Julia."
She knew the feeling. She felt edgy and her stomach was churning. "Let's turn on the radio."
"Why?"
"Because there's probably some good music on. It always helps me relax." She knew she was probably about to make another mistake, but it seemed to be a night for mistakes. "I don't really want to be alone. Would you stay? Just hang out with me, no touching, no kissing."
His hesitation was obvious.
"It's a big bed." She sat down on one side of the bed and placed two pillows in the middle, building a little barrier. "I'll stay on my side. You stay on yours."
"You trust me to do that?"
She didn't even hesitate. "Yes."
He debated for another second. "Fine. I'll stay."
"Good." She turned on the radio, running through the stations until she heard a violin and viola playing Mozart's Duo in B-flat Major. "Isn't this beautiful?" she asked, leaning back against the bed. Already she was feeling better.
Alex stretched out on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He listened for a moment, then said, "It's nice."
"Nice? That's a lukewarm word. There's a perfect harmony between the two instruments, a pure, splendid tone. It's so powerful I can feel the music within me."
"It's nice," he said again with a small smile. "I prefer a saxophone or a trumpet, something announcing its entrance into the piece."
"I could find something else."
"No, this is fine. You like it. That's good enough for me."
She stared up at the ceiling, letting the music take the tension out of her shoulders, her neck, her entire body. She tried not to think about everything that had happened that day. There was too much to absorb, too many revelations to analyze.
"Julia?"
She turned her head to look at Alex. "Yes?"
"Beautiful."
"That's a better adjective for the music than nice."
"I wasn't talking about the music," he said, with a dangerous look in his eyes. "I was talking about you."
Oh, God. She had a feeling those pillows between them weren't going to be enough to keep them apart. She drew in a deep breath, then closed her eyes, conflicted over whether she wanted Alex to make a move or not. She heard him shift on the bed. Her body tensed, and then she realized he'd turned away from her. Was he angry? Should she say something?
"Relax, Julia," he said a moment later. "We don't have to figure out everything tonight. There's always tomorrow."
* * *
After an almost six-hour flight, they landed in San Francisco just after eleven o'clock Tuesday morning. Alex was used to traveling and sleeping very little, but he had to admit he was tired. They'd only had a few hours of sleep the night before. And that sleep had been more than a little restless. Lying next to Julia with just a few pillows between them had been quite a test of his self-control. It wasn't the right time—for either of them. He should never have kissed her, never given in to that impulse. But the more he got to know her, the more he liked her, and the more he found her irresistible.
At least their trip had been a success. Julia had found her grandmother. They'd learned quite a bit about Sarah's past. Now they had to concentrate on unraveling the rest of the secrets.
His cell phone rang as they were walking out to the parking lot, and he didn't recognize the number. "Hello?" he asked warily, not sure whom to expect.
"Alex Manning?" a man asked.
"Yes."
"This is Daniel Brady, Alex. I saw the photo in the newspaper, and I spoke to Stan Harding. I think we need to talk."
"We certainly do."
"Can you meet me at the Cliff House in a half hour? I'll buy you a drink."
"All right. I'll be bringing Julia with me."
"I wouldn't have it any other way. See you then."
"Who was that?" Julia asked as he ended the call.
"Daniel Brady. He wants to meet us in thirty minutes."
Her eyes lit up. "That's great news. Finally, everything is clicking into place."
"Let's hope so."
* * *
A layer of fog hung over Ocean Beach, painting the sky a dull gray. Alex parked in the lot next to the Cliff House, a historic three-story restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean and Seal Rocks, where the sea lions came to play. Set at the most western edge of San Francisco, the Cliff House also offered a view of the large ships about to sail under the Golden Gate Bridge, into the harbor of San Francisco. Alex had visited the restaurant once before when he was a child. His father had told him stories about the restaurant and its once-famous neighbor, the Sutro Baths, an extravagant public bathhouse built in the 1800s that was later turned into a seaside amusement park. The baths and the amusement park were long gone, but the restaurant remained.
As soon as they got out of the car, an older man stepped from a charcoal gray sedan parked across from them. Dressed in
casual tan slacks and a long-sleeved brown shirt, he appeared to be in his sixties. His light brown hair was thin on the top and cut short. His stomach had a bit of a paunch to it. He had a cigarette in his mouth, which he quickly stubbed out as he approached them.
"Alex, you look well."
He didn't know why he was surprised or unsettled by the fact that the other man had recognized him. "Daniel Brady?" he asked.
"That's me." Brady offered Alex a smile and removed the dark glasses that covered his brown eyes. "And you must be Julia. I saw your picture in the paper. It didn't do you justice." He paused. "I know I offered to buy you a drink, but something has come up, and I won't be able to stay. Why don't we take a walk and talk for a few minutes?"
Alex fell into step alongside Brady, with Julia following a step behind. "Why have I never heard of you?" he asked. "Stan said you were a good friend of my father's, but I don't recall your name ever being mentioned. And I know we've never met before."
"Your father and I saw each other when we were both on assignment, usually in another country."
"So you do work for the government?" Alex asked. "Do you happen to have any identification?"
Brady chuckled at that question. "I've got a driver's license. Will that do?" He paused and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "You're not as trusting as your father."
"Since he's dead now, I'll take that as a compliment," Alex said sharply. There was something about Brady—maybe his smug smile, or his knowing manner, that irritated him. He took the license from Brady's hand and gave it a quick glance. The face was the same. The address was in Maryland. "You're a long way from home."
"I always am."
"What about a government ID?"
"What I do doesn't require ID. I've been on the job for thirty-seven years now. I can get you a character reference if you feel you need one."
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 81
