Her need to see him had everything to do with the dresses and nothing to do with wanting to find out if he’d been infected and could use her help.
She kept reminding herself of that fact as she walked slowly from the parking lot toward the Skokie Lagoons in Winnetka.
She’d just make sure he’d returned to his usual arrogant self, and then she’d be on her way to Pandora’s Box, where she should be this very minute. And as soon as she finished there, she’d go to Lou Hinshaw’s Auction House, the first on her list to check out for Bertha’s gowns.
All at once she saw Drew leaning over what looked like a dingy with a sail. Muscles rippled under his blue polo shirt, and his suntanned arms flexed as he worked.
She stopped. He’s fine. I don’t need to do this!
She twirled to run away.
“Athena!” he shouted.
He’s seen me. She had no choice but to twirl back and walk toward him.
She absolutely refused to be embarrassed while he eyed her huge tortoiseshell Tom Ford sunglasses she wore instead of her tinted ones, paused on the khaki shorts covering just enough of her thighs, and ended at her sensible rubber-soled shoes.
“You look like you weigh around a hundred and fifteen pounds. My Penguin sailboat requires no more than two hundred and ninety pounds of weight, which, if my calculations are correct, makes the two of us perfect.”
He’s hallucinating. Guilt ridden, she stepped closer. “Drew, you need to go home and rest.”
He squinted his eyes against the bright sun. Now he looked more than ever like a young Paul Newman in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
But I’m definitely not Maggie, gazing at him with lust in my heart—or am I?
“Athena, my crewman can’t make it today. I’m merely suggesting, since you’re here, you help me out. Why are you here?”
Mortified to have been so worried when he couldn’t have looked healthier, she lifted her chin to the sky. “I’m here to find you so we can scour the city for Bertha’s dresses. Time is running out.” She had less than two weeks.
Rebecca’s cameraman had caught this smile on film. His real smile, which she’d first glimpsed in her seventeenth summer.
“I promise we’ll leave no stone unturned to find those dresses. After we sail. Deal, partner?”
It seemed childish to refuse him. And really, he did look the tiniest bit flushed.
Maybe I should watch him for a little while longer.
“Oh, all right. Since I’m here. Now what?”
“You sit in the bow.” He cast her a side glance. “Remember the bow is the front and the stern is the back, where I steer.”
“Of course I know the bow from the stern,” she insisted indignantly. I just can’t ever remember which side is starboard and which is port.
Hoping she wouldn’t need to know, she studied the tiny spot he indicated in the point of the bow. “I can’t fit one thigh in there!”
His gaze lingered on both her thighs. “Sure you can. Let me help you.” He held her hand and maneuvered her around the wooden centerboard to settle in her spot with a little room to spare. She felt warm and loosened the top button of her blouse.
Overhead, the small white sail stretched to catch the wind.
She became aware of the soothing, quiet noise of water sloshing against the bow and of the sunlight turning Drew’s fair hair every color from citron to amber.
The sound of the water and the breeze gently playing across her bare skin made her drowsy. The tight, warm tension in her chest eased, and she took a deep breath of fresh, green-scented late-spring air.
“I can’t take the boat directly into the wind,” Drew called out to her. “We’ll tack to port. Tack to starboard. Keep an even keel to get where we want to go. Relax and we’ll do this together.”
It all came back to her, helping him race his small sailboat along the beach at the Clayworth Compound. She shifted to one side and then the other for balance, to help make the boat go faster. She tried to move carefully, but every single part of this boat seemed to be sharp, jutting, or just plain hard. I’m definitely out of practice. She couldn’t escape getting bumped and bruised. She did all she could to dodge the bits of the boat as they came at her.
After a while the rhythm came back to her. Like in the old days when the world distilled down to the power of the boat beneath her racing the waves and the awe of watching Drew capture the wind and make it do what he wanted.
Here, for one bright, shining moment like in Camelot, the world became crystal clear. Like it had been when they were kids.
Flying spray against her warm cheek broke the spell. For a few precious minutes she had let go of duty, regret, and sorrow. But they weren’t kids anymore, setting sail for endless horizons. All their choices, plus her dad, were in this boat with them. Despite all their baggage, she couldn’t deny the little flutters of excitement at being here with Drew again.
She watched him jump to shore and pull the boat higher onto the bank. She climbed out before he could help her and peered up at him. “Now can we get back to sleuthing?”
He nodded. “It felt good, though, didn’t it?”
His gaze made her feel like the sun concentrated all its beams directly on her, and its powerful heat made it hard to breathe. She raised her hand to push back her hair, heavy and hot on her neck, and his gaze fell on the inside of her right wrist.
“Christ, you got that sailing with me.” He lifted her arm where a small bright purple bruise had formed, gently sliding his fingers over the aching spot.
Shivers, like the waves against the bank at her feet, washed over her hot, tingly skin.
“Sorry about this.” Abruptly, he dropped her arm.
Relieved, she stepped back. She shouldn’t have worried. He appeared totally fine. Totally coherent. Totally in control, like all Clayworths.
He stepped back further. “Thanks for coming. I’ll be in touch.”
The real reason she’d come, the reason she’d never before admitted to herself, settled like an anchor in a region near her heart.
I came because I need closure with you. And I didn’t know it until I inhaled truth serum. Now what should I do to fix it?
By Monday, Athena needed to fix her body. Every muscle felt stiff from stretching, or sitting on that hard, two-inch piece of wood, or whatever she’d done to herself while sailing. Bruises in colors ranging from dirty orange to bright purple were arranged in clusters like the constellations on one shoulder and thigh.
Obviously, she’d become so rusty at sailing it might be right up there with singing on the list of her un-accomplishments.
To stop thinking about sailing with him, and to deal with her disappointment about her stop at Hinshaw’s Auction House, which came up with zero, and to keep herself busy while waiting for her appointments with four other dealers, Athena roamed around the large collection-storage room optimistically choosing more pieces for the Founding Families Exhibit, which might never happen.
Makayla walked in and immediately spied the bruise on Athena’s wrist. “What happened to you?”
“I went sailing with Drew Clayworth. This is nothing. This is the really big one. I think it looks like Orion, don’t you?” she asked Makayla, who peered at her shoulder.
A frown curved Makayla’s pale lips, and the tiny diamond piercing her right eyebrow seemed to wink at Athena in alarm.
Not wanting to worry her, Athena laughed and pulled her blouse back up on her shoulder. “I’m fine. I actually had fun. I’d forgotten how much I love the feel of racing the wind. Drew does it really well.”
“I’ve never heard you sound so, kind of, breathless.” Makayla did a mock swoon. “Here I thought all the Clayworth men were, like, a necessary evil. Like money bags for the museum.”
“Makayla, we never refer to our biggest donors, the Clayworths, as money bags,” Athena gently reminded her.
“I watched Talk of the Town at the group home. That shot of you and Mr. Clayworth standing with Junior between you had like
an awesome vibe. The other girls at the house asked if the two of you were like a really hot item.”
Stunned by the question, Athena looked up from removing a Charles James dress from its double casket to find Makayla staring at her, a rapt expression on her face.
“Absolutely not.” Technically, she wasn’t lying. When Drew stroked her arm, she’d felt more alive than she had in years, but she couldn’t read anything deeper on his charming exterior.
“You knew him before, right? Like your families were friends?”
“A long time ago.” Athena nodded, trying to figure out how to be as truthful as possible with Makayla.
“You guys were never into each other, huh?”
Athena looked away, refusing to let the memories of their last night on the Clayworth terrace back in. “Something like that.”
Makayla groaned. “Bummer! You were and he wasn’t, right?”
Athena stared up into Makayla’s intent face and put on her older-sister hat. “You might say we weren’t on the same page at the same time. It happens that way sometimes, and then you get over it and move on,” she said in what she hoped sounded like a positive, mature tone.
“Sometimes. Like on Rebecca’s show and again in the lab that night I saw something sad on your face. Like maybe you’re not over it? Would you tell me if I’m right?”
Am I having another bout of truthfulness from Bertha’s stays?
No, she simply couldn’t lie to this young girl, so alone in the world, who trusted her.
“He was my best friend, and I blew it,” Athena admitted for the first time in her life.
“He was your BFF and he dumped you! Did you make him pay?” Makayla asked, indignation firing in her eyes. “You should have done it even if he’s always been this rich, powerful dude. There’s still time. We could make him fall in love with you, and then you could dump him this time.”
Confronted by Makayla’s teenage vengeance, Athena felt as ancient as Greek mythology. “It was a long time ago. He was only nineteen. He’d just lost his parents in a horrible sailboat accident. I couldn’t do anything to hurt him.”
But I did.
Makayla nodded. “You and your sisters always like to fix stuff. Like three fairy god-sisters. It’s awesome. Everybody knows about it. Leonard and I talk about it all the time. Rebecca Covington-Sumner even wrote about it in her column once. Did you want me as an intern because I lost my mom and dad, too? Did you want to fix things for me because you couldn’t fix Mr. Clayworth?”
The rush of sympathy, of memories of Drew as a wounded teenager, had consumed Athena as she’d read Makayla’s application and looked into her soulful eyes. Very different eyes than Drew’s. Not startling blue, glistening with unshed tears that had ripped her heart out. But lost, like he’d looked.
Yes. But I didn’t realize it until this instant.
Athena smiled, fighting back tears and regrets and a million other feelings welling up from where she’d buried them so long ago. “You earned this internship because you’re wonderful and brilliant.” And I want you to stay this way and not change like Drew did.
Dazed by this newest epiphany, Athena gave Makayla a huge hug. “Now be your wonderful, brilliant self and finish cataloguing these pieces for me while I go to my last hopes of where a fence might have tried to sell Bertha’s gowns in the city.”
The House of Flan looked pained at the very idea they would buy from a fence.
Southley’s practically showed Athena the door.
Kristie’s did tell her they were insulted they were even on her list of establishments that would be approached with stolen property and did show her the door. Ever so politely, of course.
By the time Athena walked into Lance Simmons Antiques, her hopes of finding a lead to the dresses were pretty much gone. She could barely muster a smile for Viola Bloom, Lance’s assistant, who stood at the reception desk waiting for her.
“I’m sorry, Athena, but Lance wants me in his office for an important meeting. I’m sure I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Nodding, Athena flung herself into a chair to wait.
Little screams of pleasure coming from Lance’s office drove her to the open door.
Viola clung to Lance, sobbing all over his cream-on-cream striped silk three-piece suit. Over his shoulder, she looked up at Athena. “We’re getting married!” she cried and thrust out her hand to reveal a magnificent square-cut emerald ring worth a fortune.
“I must call my mother,” Viola gasped, then threw Lance a kiss and rushed past Athena, who stood in the doorway.
Lance sat down hard on the cream leather couch, where he blended right in except for his flushed cheeks and red mutton-chop sideburns.
Athena didn’t need to see his slightly unfocused watery-brown eyes to realize Bertha’s degrading stays had struck again.
“Lance, you need to see your doctor,” Athena said gently and perched beside him.
“I’ve never felt better in my life,” he boomed, beating his chest with his fists. “I’m sweeping the woman of my dreams off her feet. We’re leaving all of this behind.” He gestured to his office full of beautiful antiques. He squinted at his snuffbox collection displayed prominently on the cherry bookcase. “Not all,” he amended. “We’re taking our favorites to fill the bed and breakfast we’ll purchase in Sonoma Valley. With a vineyard. We’ll have our own label. Called Viola,” he sighed.
Honestly, Athena had never seen him look so blissful, even when acquiring a priceless artifact for a pittance. She wanted to be gentle. “Lance, I wish you both so much happiness, but—”
“No more buts! No more doubts. Now the world is clear, like the finest piece of crystal,” he interrupted, surging to his feet. “I thought perhaps Viola has been my devoted assistant for thirty years because I paid well. I thought perhaps she doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel for her. But now I know all of that to be false.” He sighed, and a deep crease appeared between his bushy red eyebrows. “Maybe all this time I should have been asking if the items I’ve been purchasing were hot, instead of keeping my mouth shut and doing the deal under the table.”
All at once he beamed up at her, looking positively angelic. “But maybe now I will, because I’m a manly man again!”
“I can see that.” Athena stood eyeball to eyeball with him. “About those items you should have inquired about. The last one was a Bertha Palmer gown, right?”
He stared at her. “Why, yes. Glorious piece. Exquisite workmanship. I handled it myself. I sold it to one of my best clients, Shelby Anderson, a few hours ago. She fell in love with it.”
Athena held his eyes in a steely stare. “Lance, this is very, very important. I need her address and phone number at once.”
His posture screamed indignation. “You know very well Viola and I never divulge details of our client list. We are sworn to secrecy. Never, I say! Never will I tell you she lives in Lincoln Park. I say, is it hot in here?” Lance asked, running one finger around his tight shirt collar.
“Yes. Sit down.” She wanted to keep prodding him for the address, but he needed help, and she had another idea. “I’ll send Viola in to you, and she’ll take you someplace where you’ll feel much better very soon.”
“Thank you, dear Athena,” he smiled up at her. “Be blissful, my dear, and make the right choices.”
“I’m working on it.” She blew him a kiss and went to find Viola weeping into the phone.
Athena touched her shoulder. “You need to take Lance to the Northwestern ER. Ask for Dr. Lewis Stemmer.”
Viola dropped the receiver and curled both hands around her ring. “Is he all right? He isn’t having second thoughts about us, is he?”
“No, he’ll remember that he loves you. Everything will be fine. When you reach the ER, Dr. Stemmer will explain what is happening.”
Love appeared to be the constant with the truth serum. Oh, yes, Athena had had her moment of clarity, but it had confused her even more.
She remember
ed loving Drew so much she ached with it. But it had been a mistake then. And now. Drew had never forgiven her for her second mistake with him.
She didn’t want to make any new mistakes in their hunt for Bertha’s gowns.
She knew there were probably dozens of Andersons living in Lincoln Park, but most of them no doubt had one thing in common besides their name. She headed straight to Clayworth’s.
Drew sat in his office listening to Connor report that so far Ed had come up empty-handed in his investigation. Drew hoped Athena could come up with more. Time was running out. He was leaving for the Fastnet in two weeks and they had to find the dresses before then.
A sound in the doorway made him glance up.
For a heartbeat he thought he might be hallucinating, because he wanted to see her. Like last night he’d muttered everything he’d wanted to say.
He pulled himself together and stood up. “Perfect timing, Athena. We were talking about the investigation.”
“I have a lead on another dress.”
Connor shot her a hard look. “Where did you get your information?”
Athena shook her head and moved close enough so Drew could see the small bruise on her wrist.
“It doesn’t matter. I believe it was bought in good faith by a Shelby Anderson.”
“Christ, Athena,” Drew laughed. “There are thousands of Andersons in the greater Chicago area.”
Her smile lit up the room. “I know, but this one lives in Lincoln Park, and what do you bet she has a Clayworth charge card like most women in the city? If there’s more than one Shelby Anderson, we’ll check them all until we find the right one.”
That edge of desire and delight he’d felt in the lab came roaring back. This time he knew it couldn’t be exposure to truth gas. He remembered it from other times and places as pure Athena.
“Brilliant. Check on it, Connor.”
“It’s against Clayworth policy to give out information about our customers.”
Connor’s standard reply didn’t surprise him.
Drew tried to meet Athena’s eyes, or as much of them as he could see through those damn glasses. “There’s a first time for everything.”
A Black Tie Affair Page 9
