The Cards of Life and Death (Modern Gothic Romance 2)

by Colleen Gleason

  She pulled all but the face-up cards into a neat deck, then reached for those last two. Neither of them were familiar to her: Wheel of Fortune, one was labeled. The other had no title, but bore the Roman numeral two at the top.

  Diana looked at them for a moment, her curiosity getting the better of her, and noticed that the pounding in her forehead had begun to ease.

  Wheel of Fortune was labeled with the Roman numeral ten, indicating that it was the tenth card of the Major Arcana. The Wheel itself hung suspended in what appeared to be the heavens, for it was surrounded by clouds and all types of creatures. Each creature seemed to be reading a book.

  Diana looked more closely at the picture of the Wheel. There were two concentric circles drawn on it, and lines cut the two innermost circles into six pie-shaped pieces. Symbols that she thought might be those of astrological signs ringed the outermost portion of the Wheel.

  Placing it on the ottoman, she turned her attention to the second card. A blindfolded figure sat on a beach, holding two swords crossed over his or her chest. The swords were long, creating a v-shape and bisecting the drawing at the horizon line between water and sky. Two of Swords, she thought. A very simple image. Yes, it was a picture with little detail, but the impression it gave her was a powerful one. The person on the beach, blind to anyone approaching, held the swords in such a way that seemed to ward off any encroachment upon the ocean with those two sturdy weapons.

  She returned her attention to Wheel of Fortune as she rested Two of Swords next to it on the ottoman.

  I wonder what they mean.

  The thought came from nowhere … and just as suddenly as it popped into her head, Diana pushed it out again. She pulled herself to her feet, determined not to indulge the fantasy any longer.

  “Enough of this nonsense. I’m going to bed,” she said aloud, now unwilling to stay in this room which had early offered a bastion of comfort. With one last look down at the two lone cards on the ottoman, she grabbed the gun and walked quickly from the room—refusing to look back or to even handle the deck again.

  What if she turned up The High Priestess again?

  She’d put them away tomorrow.

  Drained, she didn’t think twice about slipping between the covers of Belinda’s bed. The rifle was within easy reach, leaning against the wall. The headache that had threatened was gone, as was the nausea. A shiver wavered across her shoulders. Both maladies had hovered at her physical consciousness until she began to examine the cards … and then, coincidentally, they disappeared.

  Absurd. Psychosomatic symptoms.

  She rolled to the side and closed her eyes.

  Wheel of Fortune.

  Two of Swords.

  ~*~

  Diana woke the next morning to the sound of a motor rumbling very near her bedroom window. It came closer, then backed away; closer, then away. It sounded like someone was mowing the lawn.

  She sat up in bed, and her gaze went automatically to the digital clock. Nine-thirty. She spewed out a long breath. Her sleep habits had really gotten screwed up in just a few days. She was getting lazy.

  Her heels made little annoyed thumps as she strode down the hall to the front door. As she passed by the den, Diana couldn’t control a glance toward the ottoman. The two cards were still there, just as she had left them, looking innocent and unimportant. I’ll deal with that later.

  By now, she’d reached the front door. She whipped the chain lock open and snapped the deadbolt back, then turned the knob and pulled the door open.

  Heedless of the fact that she wore nothing but a modest nightshirt and no shoes, Diana walked out onto the porch and followed it around the back, where the sound of the mower was louder.

  As she came around the corner, she stopped. Her breath caught, and she just stared for a moment. Aunt Belinda sure had good taste in gardeners.

  From behind the man pushing the mower, all Diana could see was a broad-shouldered back, well-toned with muscle and glazed with a light sheen of sweat. It narrowed to a slim-hipped waist, covered with a loose pair of shorts that looked like chopped off sweatpants. Regardless of the fact that they were loose, they covered a very pleasing, well-defined rear end. His legs were long, lean, and muscled from thigh to calf.

  Wow. Maybe I won’t lodge a complaint after all.

  He turned a corner then, and was suddenly facing her. Somehow, although a jolt of awareness shot through her, Diana wasn’t really surprised that it was Ethan Tannock. He looked just as good from the front, she thought wryly as she started across the grass toward him.

  He looked up and gave an obvious start at seeing her. His face settled into a remote expression as he released the mower, and it puttered into silence. “Good morning.” He slung his hands at his hips, turning toward her with a hint of defiance.

  “Good morning. What are you doing?” Diana allowed irritation into her voice. As she came closer, she felt his gaze sweep over her lightly clad figure. Self-conscious, she tried to be inconspicuous as she tugged the hem of her nightshirt down, stretching it to mid-thigh. Shorts and a tank top are more revealing than my nightshirt. And my hair must look like a disaster.

  “Mowing the lawn,” Ethan replied, taking a leisurely look. It had taken her long enough to wake up. He’d been working for two hours, trimming and clipping.

  When she pulled the nightshirt down, it did nothing but tighten over her chest. Moratorium or no, he wasn’t about to deny himself the pleasure of looking at the lovely apple-sized breasts she was conveniently displaying. “Did I wake you?” He smirked at her consternation and irritation, then used his forefinger to wipe a trickle of sweat from his forehead. Served her right.

  “As a matter of fact, you did,” she replied. She must have realized that drawing the edge of the t-shirt down did nothing to preserve her modesty because she let go of the hem.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her with just the faintest sincerity in his voice. After all, he was doing this for Belinda—and to further the cause of science. He didn’t have to like the woman, although it sure as hell wasn’t a hardship to look at her, dressed as she was, all rumpled and heavy-lidded from sleep. His fingers itched to touch those thick, full curls that danced in a riot about her head, leaving her long, slender neck bare.

  “I thought you’d be an early riser, ” he added, but with more sincerity this time. He couldn’t help a small grin as she glared at him. “I’m upholding my end of the bargain your aunt and I have had for years—and I’ll do so until you can make other arrangements for having the yard work done.”

  “Bargain?”

  “Yeah. She never would accept any payment from me for all the time I spent working with her, so we had an agreement that I would take care of her lawn work in the summer, and make sure the plowing was done in the winter.”

  “Work you did with her? You paid her?” The consternation on her face would have been more gratifying if he hadn’t seen the wheels turning in her mind—considering whether she should believe him or not. She really does think I’m a shyster.

  Despite the anger rising in him, he kept his voice even and well modulated. “Yes, I compensated her—or tried to, anyway—for the para-psychological experiments she participated in for over five years. You see, Diana, regardless of what your lawyerly, ambulance-chasing brain might think, I don’t need her money. I get paid very well by Princeton University to do my ‘ghost busting’, as you call it. Go ahead—check me out. It’ll be easy enough. I’m on their website.” He flashed her an arrogant smile, one that was sugarcoated with niceness, but had the underlying steel of his outrage at her accusations. “Under Staff. Picture and all—although they haven’t updated it since I shaved.”

  “I certainly will check it out.” Her voice was frosty, although he saw the waver of uncertainty in her eyes.

  He wondered if she’d apologize when she found out how wrong she’d been. Unlikely, he thought, taking in the cool facade of her beautiful but stony face and defiant stance. Why would someone like her bothe
r to eat crow?

  Diana took a step backward, obviously trying to find a way to excuse herself politely. “Well I do appreciate your taking the time to come over here and do this. I have to run into town, so I may be gone when you get finished. But—uh—could I get you something to drink before I go?”

  Ethan could feel her discomfort, and although he’d have liked to continue teasing her, he decided against it. If he wanted to spend enough time observing her to make it worthwhile—and to eventually get her permission to be a full-fledged participant, he couldn’t afford to have her too angry with him. Perhaps it was time to call a truce. “I don’t mind doing it because I know you probably have your hands full. I probably won’t be much more than another hour—I have to run the mulcher over it. Then, if you don’t care, I’ll jump in the lake to cool off.”

  “No, that’s not a problem,” Diana told him. “If you’d like to stop in for something cold to drink before you leave, that would be fine. Just holler when you come in if I’m still here.”

  He felt one eyebrow lift. She was inviting him to just walk in the house?

  “Thanks. That’d be great. I’ll take you up on it.” And now, you little rumpled sleepyhead, you’d better get in the house and get some clothes on before I forget I don’t like you.

  But the problem was … he was beginning to wish he did.

  ~*~

  As it turned out, Diana didn’t make it into town before Ethan finished the lawn. She was on the phone with Mickey when she heard Ethan’s “helloooo!” reverberate through the house.

  “Who’s that?” her sharp-eared assistant asked.

  “Just one of the neighbors. He just finished mowing the lawn,” Diana explained. Then, cupping her hand over the receiver, she called, “Come on in—I’m in the kitchen.”

  “Is he a young neighbor or an old neighbor?” Mickey asked with a sly tone in her voice.

  “Young,” Diana whispered as she heard Ethan walking down the hall. “Take off your shoes, please,” she called to him.

  “Already did,” he said as he came into the kitchen.

  He’d put a t-shirt on, but the swim he’d obviously taken caused it to cling to his shoulders and the front of his chest, and his hair dripped onto its collar. She noticed bare, tanned biceps rounding smoothly from under the cuffs of the sleeves. Somehow, the shirt made him look even less decent than when he was bare-chested outside.

  Diana realized Mickey was talking to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say? The phone lines are kind of staticky up here.”

  Ethan tossed her a grin. “I’ve never had any trouble with my phone,” he told her, turning one of the chairs around and straddling it backwards. The teasing look in his eyes held a second layer of some other emotion.

  Heat.

  Diana’s mouth went dry and she turned her back on him, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. “No other issues regarding the Merkovitz case?” she asked Mickey, fervently hoping that there weren’t.

  “I don’t think you want to hear about them.”

  “Oh no.” Diana leaned both elbows on the counter. That niggle of discomfort exploded into full-blown anxiety. “What happened?”

  “DUI. Last week, Merkovitz got picked up on a DUI.”

  Diana said a very unladylike word and heard a faint chuckle from behind her. She turned her face downward, cupping her hands lightly around the phone in an effort to keep prying ears from hearing things they shouldn’t. DUI. Her insides shivered as she remembered her concerns about the previous case. There’d been something off about it. “Well, that’ll help his case,” she said, unwilling to put her fears into words, even for Mickey. “He gets sued for malpractice and now he’s going to have a drunk driving record. Great. Let’s just hope this case goes to court before his DUI becomes public knowledge.”

  She raked a hand through her thick hair and closed her eyes. She should dump this case … just walk away. But Jonathan had reminded her how important it was to be representing one of the most reputable orthopedic surgeons in the Boston area, and how her career—as well as his own—could be over in a snap if Dr. Merkovitz should become dissatisfied.

  Not for the first time, she wondered why Merkovitz had chosen a small firm like hers rather than one of the big powerhouses with a string of partner names across the stationery’s masthead. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Not yet. I’ll keep you posted.” Then a teasing note crept into Mickey’s voice. “How young is young?”

  “Never mind.” Diana was brisk and she felt heat gather at the base of her neck, even though she knew Ethan wasn’t able to hear the other side of the conversation. “It doesn’t matter anyway, Mick. Listen, if anything else comes up, I should be around—give me a call, or I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Diana hung up the phone and turned around to find Ethan looking at her with flagrant attraction in his eyes. Then, as their gazes caught, the interest drained away to be replaced by nothing more than friendliness. He’d propped his chin on hands that rested on the back of the chair.

  “How about some iced tea?” Diana asked, her stomach filled with butterflies. What the heck was wrong with her?

  “That would be great.” Ethan lifted his chin and let his arms drop so they hung over the back of the chair. “So … did you check the Princeton website?”

  Diana’s shoulder jerked, and an instant flush warmed her face. “As a matter of fact, since my wi-fi is finally working, yes I was able to.” She kept her acute embarrassment hidden as she continued with sincerity, “I owe you a big apology. I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions and made assumptions. Quite truly, that’s very unlike me. I usually require much more … evidence before making judgments.”

  He seemed just as surprised as she was sincere. “Thank you for apologizing. I have to admit, I didn’t think you would, and especially with such grace.” He smiled the most genuine smile she’d seen since the first time they’d met. “Thanks.”

  Diana drew back, offended and chastised at the same time. “I don’t have any issue with admitting when I’m wrong. And if everyone else did, there’d be a lot less strife in the world.”

  Nodding in agreement, he took the tall glass of iced tea that she handed him. “Very true.” As their fingers brushed, he commented, “As your aunt used to say, you have to see it in black and white before you believe anything.”

  She stared at him, an uneasy feeling rising inside. “Aunt Bee used to talk about me?”

  “All the time.” Bitterness tinged his words and that smile faded. “She would have loved to have seen you—she talked about you as though you were her own daughter.”

  Shame and deep sadness crested over her, and she had to blink back a sudden welling of tears. With an impatient hand, she brushed them away before Ethan noticed and tried to quell her guilt. “I hadn’t seen her since the summer I was thirteen. My mother didn’t even let me know about my Uncle Tracer’s funeral when he died.”

  “Yes, Belinda mentioned that she and your mother had had a falling out, and that was why you didn’t spend the summers up here anymore.”

  Diana felt even more uncomfortable. This man seemed to know her whole life story. “I don’t know what they argued about, but I do know my mother always disliked Aunt Bee. She was my father’s aunt, but I had to have somewhere to go in the summers when I was younger, so I got to come here for three years. Mother refuses to talk about what happened to change that. And we’re … not close.”

  “But surely you could have visited your aunt when you got older—if you’d wanted to.” He looked at her with steady brown eyes, pinning her there under his microscope.

  “Believe me, had I known Aunt Bee was interested in seeing me, and was still alive, I would have.” She couldn’t keep the enmity from her voice so she turned to pour her own glass of tea. “Mother told me outright that Aunt Belinda died, I guess so I would stop asking about her.”

  Ethan was looking at her contemplatively, and for the first time, that faint hint o
f accusation was gone. Instead, she thought she saw sympathy and understanding in his eyes. “Then I owe you an apology as well,” he said. “For thinking that you’d ignored Belinda for years, and only came back into her life for the money.”

  Diana opened her mouth to say something sharp … and then closed it. “Apology accepted. Thank you for admitting that.”

  He gave her a brief smile and settled back in his chair. “My mother never married my father—or my half-sister’s father, either, for that matter—and she kept us from meeting them or knowing much about them until we were older and could do it on our own.” He picked up his glass and gestured with it, making the ice tinkle. “So I can empathize just a little. And I’m sorry you didn’t get to know your aunt as an adult. I think you would really have enjoyed her. I know I did. She was a mother figure as well as a really good friend of mine, as odd as that might seem. She helped me through a very rough time.”