“I can’t be your mother, River. I’m very sorry about that. If you’ll make another wish, I’ll try to give it to you—if it’s within my powers. Okay?”
“I want you,” River tried one last time.
“I’m sorry.”
The door opened just then and Raven stood there. River took one look at her father and burst into tears. “She can’t do it,” the little girl sobbed. “She can’t be my mommy.” With that, she ripped free of JJ.’s arms and flung herself into her father’s embrace.
Raven cradled his daughter close, his cold black gaze coming to rest on JJ. A multitude of threats glittered within those dark depths and she shivered, waiting for him to rip into her. But to her utter amazement, he simply said, “Please leave.”
Without another word, she picked up the book she’d given River and set it on his desk. And then she left.
JJ. couldn’t ever recall being more frustrated. Tracking down River Sierra had proven fairly simple. When she’d landed in Denver, she’d called in to Blackstone’s and spoken to Gem. The computer had been quite helpful, providing the address to Raven’s office building. Except for that one useful tidbit, J.J. had been stonewalled ever since—stonewalled by a computer, no less.
For the fifth time in the past two hours she phoned Mathias only to be greeted by Gem’s now-annoying electronic voice. Not only did the computer reign supreme at Blackstone’s, but Jacq—in her infinite wisdom—now had the computer taking care of phone duties at home, too. Perhaps she’d made the switch because of her pregnancy. Her baby was due in less than a month. JJ. sighed. Well, it was better than unplugging the darned thing, which had been Jacq’s previous method of dealing with a phone she didn’t want to answer—though not by much.
“GOOD EVENING. YOU’VE REACHED BLACKSTONE’S. HOW MAY I HELP YOU?”
“It’s J.J. again.”
“GOOD EVENING, MS.—”
“Don’t talk, just listen. I don’t want any more arguments. I want to speak to Mathias and I want to speak to him now.”
“MR. BLACKSTONE IS UNAVAILABLE,” came the standard retort. “PLEASE STATE NATURE OF PROBLEM.”
“I’ve already told you. The nature of my problem is fulfilling River Sierra’s wish.” J.J. took a deep breath, struggling to control her temper. “Her father is furious with me. River thinks I’m the fairy out of Jacq’s book. And the wish she wants is impossible. What am I supposed to do?”
“YOU ARE TO GRANT WISH OF RIVER SIERRA. PLEASE REFER TO INSTRUCTIONS ON MEMO.”
J.J. gritted her teeth. “Haven’t you been paying attention? She wants me to be her mother. In case you didn’t know, the only way I can do that is by marrying Raven Sierra.”
“AFFIRMATIVE. YOU ARE TO GRANT WISH OF RIVER SIERRA.”
“Affirmative? Oh, no. That’s not an affirmative. Have you lost your mind?” What was she saying? She had to quit acting as if this piece of hardware had the human capacity of thought. “Listen, Gem. I am not going to marry Raven Sierra. I’m quite certain that isn’t why Mathias sent me.”
“YOUR ASSIGNMENT IS SPECIFIC. YOU ARE TO GRANT WISH OF RIVER SIERRA.”
She groaned, wondering for the umpteenth time why she was sitting in a hotel room in Denver arguing over the phone with a stupid machine. “Would you please connect me with Mathias so I can discuss the situation directly with him?”
“MR. BLACKSTONE UNAVAILABLE FOR DISCUSSION. PLEASE CONTINUE WITH ASSIGNMENT.”
“When will Mathias be available?”
“INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE.”
She was getting heartily sick of hearing that particular refrain. If this was a test, it was a damned annoying one. “How do I contact him?”
“LEAVE MESSAGE OR SEND E-MAIL REPORT.”
“Fine. I’ll file a report after I hang up. In the meantime, give Mathias a message.”
“RELAY MESSAGE.”
She thrust her hair behind one ear and shouted into the receiver. “Help!” For a minute she wondered if she’d blown Gem’s auditory circuitry. Not that she cared. If they had to fix the machine because it had blown a few fuses, maybe a “real” person would answer the darned phone. Lowering her voice, she continued, “That’s it. Just that one word. But you give it to him in large block letters, italicized and underlined three times. You got that?”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“Just out of curiosity... Does Mathias know what the kid wants? He can’t have realized she’d wished for a mother.”
“INFORMATION—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Information unavailable. Thanks a lot, Gem. You’ve been a big help.”
Apparently sarcasm wasn’t a form of communication the computer recognized. “YOU’RE WELCOME, MS. RANDELL,” came the dulcet reply. “HAVE A NICE DAY.”
With that, Gem broke the connection. JJ. continued to sit on the edge of the bed, fighting for calm. None of this made any sense. Not the assignment. Not River’s wish. Not Mathias’s demand that she fulfill that wish. He couldn’t have known the nature of the little girl’s request. When she told him, he’d be suitably appalled and order her directly home. Wouldn’t he?
Visions of her father’s past manipulations spiked her memory. She’d never known anyone quite as determined to get what he wanted as her father. His reputation for ruthlessness was legendary. It didn’t matter what the cost. His personal goals superseded everything.
So, what about Mathias? Perhaps he had more in common with Turk Randell than she’d thought. Instantly she shook her head. No. He wasn’t anything like Turk. She drew a ragged breath, struggling to convince herself she hadn’t been made a fool of for all these months. Her brother-in-law would never pull the type of stunts her father had. Sure, Mathias had exposed Jacq’s secret identity. But there’d been a good reason for that. Right? Just as there must be a good reason for her current dilemma.
A knock at the door reported through the room like a gunshot.
It caught J.J. by surprise and she leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. For a split second she wondered if perhaps the reporters had found her. They certainly were a tenacious bunch. Crossing to the peephole as quietly as she could, she peeked through the opening and saw Raven standing on the other side of the door. For an instant, she was tempted to ignore him. Not that he’d let her get away with it. Like Turk, he’d find a solution to his problem—one guaranteed to work to his advantage. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d already gotten hold of a key to her room just to cover that particular contingency.
Resisting the urge to straighten her clothing and run a brush through her hair, she unlatched the door and tugged it open. Uh-oh. The warrior had returned. She could see it in his stance, in the light of battle flaming in his black gaze. “Mr. Sierra,” she greeted him with impressive calm. “This is a surprise.”
He was alone and had changed from his business suit into jeans and a black chambray shirt. Not that it mattered. Whether casual or dressed for success, the man commanded instant attention. With the possible exception of Mathias, she’d never known anyone more capable of instantly dominating any given situation. Not even Turk.
“May I come in?” Raven asked.
She debated for a whole two seconds. The fact that he didn’t automatically shoulder his way past decided it for her. “Sure.”
Stepping back, she waved him in, wishing she’d taken a spare minute to slip into her heels so they’d be on a more equal level. Barefoot, her five foot nine looked tiny beside his six foot two plus boot heels. Unfortunately she’d kicked her pumps under the bed. And as badly as she wanted them gracing her feet instead of the floor, there was no way she’d treat Raven to a view of her scrambling around on the carpet in search of them.
He removed his leather jacket and tossed it across one of the chairs. Unable to help herself, J.J. eyed the width of his shoulders and the strong muscular back flexing beneath the soft cotton. How could she possibly have failed to notice such an impressive frame? A businessman with the build of a laborer. It was a dangerous comb
ination.
The purely feminine reaction caught her off guard, perhaps because it had been so long since she’d looked at a man that way. Drawing on every ounce of poise, she schooled her expression to hide her reaction, though nothing calmed the hum of excitement racing through her veins.
Raven turned to face her. “You’re not surprised I’m here.”
“Actually I am,” she said easily, pleased that her self-control hadn’t completely deserted her. “How did you find me?”
He lifted a winged eyebrow. “Gem gave me the info. I’d assumed you’d left it with her.”
She hadn’t and J.J. took a moment to mull over the implications. This was the second time Sierra Consortium’s computer unit betrayed more knowledge than should be part of its programming. The possibility that the Gem system at Blackstone’s was exchanging information with Raven’s unit struck her yet again. But she immediately discarded the notion as ridiculous. There must be built-in safeguards against such a possibility. Still... She’d make a mental note to ask Mathias to look into it—assuming she ever reached the man.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked Raven, indicating the minifridge. “I assume it’s fully stocked.” After this meeting, she’d do more than assume. She’d find out for certain, and if it was loaded, she’d indulge in one of those pricey little hundred-proof-bottles. She’d probably need it after the coming battle.
“I’ll pass, thanks. I didn’t come to exchange social pleasantries.”
Lovely. No doubt Mr. Warrior Man had come to threaten her some more. She indicated the chair he’d used as a coatrack. “Have a seat.” She didn’t phrase it as a request.
His eyebrow tilted upward again. “A directive, Ms. Randell?”
“Yes, Mr. Sierra. It was.” Seated, they’d be on a more equal footing. Standing—even in his current stance lounging against the dresser—gave him far too aggressive a presence.
For the first time, a hint of a smile creased his bronzed face. Inclining his head, he snagged his jacket from the chair and moved it to the end of the bed. Then he sat, his long, lean legs thrust out in front of him. She had a choice. She could either climb over him and take the only other available chair or she could perch on the end of the bed beside his jacket. Neither option appealed. Instead she took up his former stance, resting a hip on the dresser and folding her arms across her chest.
His smile grew to a grin. “Comfortable?”
“Absolutely.” She waited a beat, then asked, “So, why have you come?”
His smile faded. “You know damned well why.”
She hated conversations that started this way. “I don’t suppose you’d care to refresh my memory?”
“You were supposed to tell my daughter you couldn’t give her a wish. Does that help your recollection, Ms. Randell?”
“I did precisely what you requested. I told her I wasn’t a fairy—not that she believed me. I told her I couldn’t be her mother—”
“And you said you’d give her another wish.” He straightened abruptly, his booted feet hitting the carpet with a thud. “Why would you do such a thing?”
Ah. So, that was it. “It only seemed fair.”
“Fair? I don’t give a damn about fair. You were to explain to River that you couldn’t give her a wish. And I told you to make it clear that you’re not some sort of fairy sent to be her mother. Then you were supposed to hightail it out of there.”
“I tried—”
“Not hard enough. Instead she still thinks you’re a fairy, still wants you for her mother and is desperate to come up with another wish. A wish you offered. If I’d known you were going to pull a stunt like that, I’d never have let you speak to her alone.” .
“I did my best,” J.J. argued. “I tried to tell her I wasn’t a fairy, but she didn’t believe me. What more was I expected to do?”
“Tell her fairies aren’t real. Explain that it’s all make-believe.”
Her mouth tightened and she met his glare head-on. Years of practice dealing with domineering men came to her aid. “Mr. Sierra, if you want to destroy your daughter’s fantasies, feel free. But I’m not going to do it for you. I gave her a second wish because she was so crushed by my refusal to fulfill her first one.”
“And what if she asks for something as impossible as before?”
“I warned her it would have to be something I could do. And trust me, marrying you isn’t on that list, no matter how badly your daughter could use a mother.”
She’d gone too far. Slowly he gained his feet, his face falling into steely lines. “Don’t push me, Ms. Randell. You won’t like the results.”
J.J. lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Sierra. I don’t want to disappoint your daughter, but if you don’t back down, I’ll simply leave. Then you can deal with River’s fantasies in your own inimitable fashion.”
“I’m tempted to take you up on that offer.”
“Feel free. If I weren’t so concerned about River, I’d have already left.”
“You’re not going anywhere until we’ve straightened out this mess.” His tone didn’t leave room for any doubt. “Tomorrow you’re coming to the office and share a pleasant lunch with my daughter. At that point she’s going to make another wish—a wish you can fulfill. And then, fairy lady, you’re to fly back to Seattle. I don’t care if it’s by wing or by plane, but you’re leaving and not returning. Ever. You got that?”
She clenched her teeth so hard she couldn’t believe they didn’t crack. “Oh, you’ve made yourself crystal clear,” she assured, once she could speak again.
“Excellent. Now, it’s time for some answers. Why does Blackstone want this procurement so badly? Is it for his wife? Is he really willing to tick me off over such a trifle?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Why didn’t he sit down again? She hated being at such a disadvantage. She slid her hip off the dresser and straightened, knowing full well her posture was far too defensive—arms folded across her chest, spine ramrod stiff, chin tilted to an aggressive angle. It was a dead giveaway to someone like Raven, but she couldn’t help that. She felt defensive. “What procurement?”
“Don’t play the innocent, Ms. Randell. It doesn’t suit you.”
She knew her appearance made playing the ingenue a bit of a stretch, but that wasn’t her fault. Genetics had given her a tall, slim build, sloe-brown eyes and an overall exotic look. She’d become accustomed to men making assumptions. That didn’t mean she liked it. And on a certain level, having Raven Sierra make the same mistake came as a severe disappointment. She’d have thought him a shrewder judge of character.
She lowered her eyes to hide the disillusionment that must be reflected there. Why should this man be any different than those she’d known in the past? she chastised herself. No doubt he thought women were either saints, whores or children. It didn’t take a mental giant to figure out which category he’d assigned to her.
Gathering her composure, she swept all hint of emotion from her expression and lifted her gaze to meet his. “I don’t really care whether or not you believe me. And I refuse to get into an argument over my veracity.”
“Or lack thereof.”
Her mouth tugged to one side and she inclined her head. “Touché. But I’m telling you—flat-out—that until I received that memo today I’d never even heard of you or your daughter. If Mathias had prior dealings with you, he never informed me of them.”
He studied her for a few seconds before nodding. “Fair enough.”
“Now would you please tell me what this is about?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t called Blackstone and asked.”
Ouch. Point scored. “I haven’t been able to get through to him,” she admitted reluctantly.
“How convenient.”
“Let’s stop dancing around, shall we?” Annoyance seeped into her voice. “I’m here to give your daughter a Christmas wish.”
“An October Christmas wish.”
She released her breath in a noisy sigh. “Fine. An October Christmas wish. That’s it. End of agenda. You suspect there’s more to it than that. Why?”
“I don’t suspect. I know.”
“Then perhaps you’d enlighten me. You claim Mathias used this wish as an excuse to send me here and blackmail you into giving him... What?” She tilted her head to one side. “What is he so desperate to get that he’d create this whole ridiculous scenario in order to gain it?”
“Okay. We’ll play the game your way. You want to know what he wants?”
“Please. I don’t think I can stand the anticipation.”
Unlike Gem, he caught her sarcasm. “It’s quite simple, Ms. Randell. He’d like to purchase a painting I own.”
“A painting?”
“A very special one.” ,
She stared at him uneasily. “Would you care to be more specific?”
“Sure. It’s a painting of a naked fairy riding a butterfly.” His fathomless dark eyes mocked her. “It’s a painting of you, Ms. Randell. And for some reason, your brother-in-law’s determined to get his hands on it. Now why is that, do you suppose? Why would he go to such extremes to buy back a painting his wife auctioned off last Christmas?”
He’d struck an unexpected blow. “You bought—” She fought for breath and tried again. “You bought the painting?”
“As a birthday present for my daughter. And just so you know, it’s not for sale. Not at any price.”
“And Mathias has been trying to buy it back?”
“Supposedly for his wife. Or so he claims.” Bitter cynicism tainted his gaze as he eyed her. “Though I’m beginning to have my doubts.”
The implication hit hard, igniting a fury so hot and fierce she trembled with it. “Get out.”
He continued to study her for an impossible few seconds. Then he exhaled heavily. “I’m wrong about that much, aren’t I?” he finally said. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
The Miracle Wife (Harlequin Romance) Page 4
