TheCrystal

by Sandra Cox

  She dialed and got an answering machine. Unfazed, Gabby began reading her column over the phone.

  Halfway through, a brusque male voice picked up. “I’ve had the police scanner on. Whoever you are, your story checks out. E-mail me what you’ve got,” he barked into the phone. “If it’s any good, I’ll print it. Include your byline, name, address and phone number,” the voice said, then slammed down the phone.

  Gabby held the phone away from her ear, looked at it then in a daze placed it in the cradle.

  “Yes!” Gabby slid out of her chair and danced around the study, waving her arms in the air. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Ah, that’s what she liked, someone that listened when she spoke. Move over Merrill Lynch.

  She bent over the desk, attached her story to an E-mail and hit the send button then stared at the screen for twenty minutes, but no new messages popped up. No response showed on the screen. She went into properties that read received and opened. Well that was that.

  Gabby glanced down. She’d forgotten to change clothes. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She pushed herself away from the door and trudged upstairs. The animals were close behind her.

  Carefully, she removed her tiara and laid it on the nightstand. She ran her fingers through her hair then shook it out. The long blonde strands tumbled over her shoulders.

  With a huge yawn, Gabby shrugged out of her dress. She threw it over the bedpost and crawled into bed. She was asleep almost instantly.

  Jericho jumped on the bed and curled up on the pillow beside her. Ned whined at the unfairness of cats being allowed on furniture then went to the foot of the bed and lay down.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christopher slammed his foot on the pedal and the Jag leaped forward. The odometer needle approached one hundred and still he didn’t gain on the car ahead. Luckily, there were few vehicles on the road at this time of night.

  He frowned. Where was Lai going? She had turned away from New Orleans nearly twenty minutes ago, taking several side roads but like a compass needle the nose of her car always pointed south.

  The taillights ahead of him swerved to the right. He cursed under his breath and gripped the wheel. He’d be lucky if he didn’t fly past the turn. He swung to his right and onto a narrow lane. His tires screamed like a cougar as he took the turn on two wheels.

  “Damn you, Lai,” he muttered as he hit a particularly large pothole. As he hunched over the wheel, his fingers grazed the car’s dashboard and he said lovingly, “Hang in there, sweetheart.”

  The road was black, without even a white line painted down the middle. There were fields beside and ahead of him, but no buildings.

  As Lai’s brake lights flashed, he jammed on the brakes. Both cars fishtailed violently. At the speed the Jag was traveling, he was on her in moments. To avoid smashing into her, he pulled alongside.

  Lai’s window was open.

  Christopher pushed a button and his window slid down. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

  She raised her arm in a blurred movement. Tiny sparks of glistening light came crashing through his window. The necklace landed against the side of his face. He felt a stinging sensation as one of the diamonds cut his cheek.

  He jerked the wheel and went bouncing off into a ditch. The car stalled as his tires dug into the narrow channel of dirt, his head hitting the steering wheel before his seat belt jerked him back. Luckily, the impact wasn’t hard enough to set off the air bags.

  Lai stuck her hand out the window and waved, as her car shot down the road.

  It took him several precious minutes to ease the car out of the ditch and back onto the road. He’d lost sight of her taillights but he continued doggedly on, searching the road as he drove.

  A lane appeared on his right. On a hunch, he took it. The road wound upward. He reached the top and braked. The tires screeched and bit into the ground, rocking the car. Below was a small airstrip.

  Lai was out of her car and running toward the waiting helicopter. Arms reached out to pull her in.

  He could hear the whine of the blades as they whipped around. The helicopter lifted off. It hovered a moment then headed up into the night sky.

  Exhausted, he leaned his head back against the soft leather headrest. He turned the interior light on and pulled a loupe and a high-powered flashlight out of the glove compartment, half-convinced Lai had thrown a paste copy at him. The woman was nothing if not thorough.

  He studied the necklace, puzzled. It was genuine all right. What in hell was she up to?

  * * * * *

  Unaware of the drama playing out in the night or perhaps beyond caring, Gabby slept the sleep of the dead. A little after eight, she dragged herself out of bed, a quick shower, making her feel nominally better. She threw on a faded blue tee shirt and shorts and headed for the breakfast room, tucking her wet hair behind her ears as she walked.

  Christopher and Tamara were already seated. Tamara placidly sipped her tea while Christopher, as usual, had his nose stuck in the paper. He lowered it when Gabby walked in, gave a short nod and then returned to his newspaper.

  Gabby stared. A jagged cut sliced down his cheek and a bump that was purpling nicely stood out on his forehead. Dark circles underscored his eyes.

  Gabby slid in a chair across from Tamara and gave her a questioning look.

  Tamara shrugged, trying to look noncommittal, but Gabby could see the worry lines between her eyes.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Gabby demanded as she poured herself a cup of hot coffee. She bit back an expletive as the steaming liquid sloshed across her hand. She shook it, sending a few drops on the table, blotching the pristine white linen tablecloth.

  Christopher looked pointedly at her hand. The sneer on his bruised face made him look more rakish than ever. Shaking his paper, he stuck his nose back in it.

  Gabby leaned across the table and mashed down the papers. “Well?”

  Christopher looked up, his eyes narrowing.

  She waited for a scathing comment. Instead his face relaxed and he studied the creamy flesh visible above Gabby’s small tee with appreciation.

  Gabby reddened. “Well?”

  “Sit. Sit.” He motioned her back into her chair.

  “She isn’t exactly a dog, my dear,” Tamara said dryly. Watching the two adversaries, she added with a twinkle in her eye, “My this is much better than going to the movies.”

  Gabby flopped down in her chair, deciding to ignore Tamara’s comment.

  Christopher rolled his eyes.

  Gabby enunciated slowly and clearly, “What happened?”

  After sipping his coffee, which seemed to revive him somewhat, he said, “The jewels have been returned to their rightful owner.”

  Tamara clapped her hands and said proudly, “My hero.”

  “Piece of cake,” Christopher said nonchalantly, reaching for his coffee again.

  “I can see that,” Gabby said, staring pointedly at his battered face. “Who was the woman?” she demanded.

  “How should I know?”

  “Yeah right. How did you get them back?”

  Christopher sat his cup down. He waited so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. He shrugged. “It was the strangest thing. She could have gotten away, but instead she threw them at me, like the theft was a diversionary tactic and the necklace wasn’t what she was after at all.”

  Gabby and Tamara looked uneasily at each other, a look Christopher intercepted.

  “What’s up?” he demanded.

  “Have you seen the local section of the paper, dear?” Tamara asked, as she reached for a croissant.

  “You’re changing the subject, auntie.”

  “Actually, I was talking to Gabriella, but you might find it entertaining, as well.” Tamara bit into the warm croissant.

  Gabby set down the beignet she’d picked up and reached for the paper.

  Christopher’s eyes narrowed. He held it just out of reach. “Auntie, you are up to something,
now what’s going on?”

  Tamara looked straight at him. “My dear, I don’t know a thing about that break-in.”

  Only Gabby caught the slight emphasis on that.

  Christopher gave her a disbelieving look but let it go. Without a word, he turned his attention to the paper, the pages rustling as he did so.

  Gabby sighed in relief.

  “Very enterprising, my dear,” Tamara said in her usual calm voice. “However did you get it in the morning’s edition?” Before Gabby could respond, she continued, “You clever thing. You have more of a reputation in the news business than you’ve let on.”

  “Marie Antoinette Unwillingly Parts With Jewels,” Christopher read aloud then fell silent as he perused the rest of the article. When he finished, he carefully folded the paper and laid it beside his plate. “Well, Aunt Tam,” he said, though his eyes were on Gabby, “quite an interesting little piece of journalism—witty, acerbic and champion for The Tiger. And I quote, ‘though, the thief known only as The Tiger only steals the finest jewels from the richest clientele, this reporter feels The Tiger was enjoying the gala festivities him or herself, mingling with New Orleans society and not working’.”

  Tamara brushed it aside as irrelevant. “Interesting, dear, but I preferred the line about a particular Southern belle and Venus that could have passed for twins, with just one or two more eyelifts.”

  Gabby felt heat creep up her cheeks.

  To her intense relief, Christopher’s unsettling gaze finally moved to Aunt Tam. For just a moment a flicker of amusement crossed his face then he turned his attention back to Gabby.

  “My, my you were quite the busy little bee last night.”

  “Apparently, so were you,” Gabby shot back.

  He raised his left eyebrow and grinned hatefully. “Think I was out prowling do you?”

  Gabby stifled a yawn. “It makes no difference to me what you were doing.” Then added spitefully, “Are you sure you didn’t get the jewels back by seducing the poor woman who stole them?”

  Christopher gave an inelegant snort. “Poor woman?” he muttered under his breath.

  “It’s really none of my concern,” Gabby said, hitching her nose in the air. She held out her hand. “May I see the sports section? Any mention of the Cardinals’ Spring Training Camp?”

  “Good writing, Ms. Bell,” he said, handing her the paper. “But let me give you a little piece of advice. There are some people I wouldn’t go out of my way to alienate.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  He gave a hard laugh. “You’ve made it abundantly clear my opinion is of no importance to you whatsoever. No. I was referring to the people you pricked in your column. Some people tend to take themselves quite seriously and don’t enjoy being made to look foolish.”

  “Oh, really? You never struck me as the sort to worry about anyone’s opinion but your own.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “So can I.”

  Christopher snorted. “Ms Bell, you are a pigheaded, opinionated babe in the woods.”

  “Coffee anyone?” Tamara inquired.

  “No!” they both snapped.

  Gabby bit into her beignet counting to ten as she chewed.

  Christopher threw down the newspaper and without a backward glance, left the table.

  Gabby’s eyes flashed as she shoved the rest of the warm, sugary yeast-pastry into her mouth.

  Smiling, Tamara reached over and patted her arm. “Would you like to see my globe, dear?”

  Her unpleasant host was forgotten. Gabby chewed then swallowed. “Yes, please. Though I must warn you I still intend to get it back. I paid for it,” she added firmly, trying to appease her conscience. Really it would be so much easier if she didn’t like Tamara.

  Tamara patted her lips with the pristine linen napkin, sat it aside and stood up. “Join the crowd,” she said rather sarcastically.

  Gabby sighed and rose too. Tamara had a good point. Her globe seemed to be unusually popular.

  Tamara interrupted her musings. “My dear, when the time is right, I’m sure it will be yours.”

  Gabby threw her a startled look. “Why do you say that?”

  Tamara smiled, but didn’t answer, as she walked toward the conservatory, her gown floating around her.

  Gabby asked hesitantly, breaking the silence. “Have you ever seen anyone in the crystal ball?”

  Tamara smiled at her knowingly. “My late husband. And you?”

  As they entered the conservatory, Gabby touched a white orchid, its texture soft and cool. “Yes.” She studied the flower then looked up. “Can you tell me why that is? Why doesn’t everyone see a face in it? Do you think whoever is trying to steal it sees a face?”

  Tamara laughed, “So many questions. No. I don’t think anyone else sees a face in the globe. As for the rest, the time isn’t right.”

  “What does that mean?” Gabby threw up her hands, exasperated.

  “You aren’t ready for the truth.”

  Gabby gave her an irritated look, but before she could protest, Tamara changed the subject, “Are you going to continue as the mysterious gossip columnist? I noticed you called yourself Miss Smith-Jones.”

  Gabby grinned. “I’d hate for the talk to cease when I walk in a room just because people are afraid of what I might print.”

  “That would be rather awkward,” Tamara agreed though her eyes twinkled. She bent over and pinched off a spent blossom from its stalk, her forehead wrinkling in thought. “Your style is fresh and has a bite. The more intelligent members of society will be able to put two and two together and get four. But as long as you are under my and Christopher’s collective wings, you’ll be all right.”

  Gabby stirred uneasily. “I don’t know if I’ll be here long enough to write any more articles.” Though there certainly was a larger than life story brewing.

  “Time will tell, dear. Time will tell. Here we are.”

  Gabby’s head snapped up. They’d neared the back of the conservatory, where the globe stood in solitary splendor. She quivered, her senses centered on the crystal. It drew her, beckoned her. She would do anything, say anything, just to get her hands on it again.

  Tamara broke into her thoughts. “My, dear, I give you permission to come here and visit the crystal whenever you wish, as long as I have your word you will not take it out of this house.”

  She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. Her father’s image swam before her saying sternly, “Bells do not tell lies.” That little gem she’d learned the hard way when she was ten years old.

  “I can’t,” she said regretfully then her face brightened. “But I will warn you before I take it.”

  Tamara laughed and stuck out her hand, “Done.” She slipped away as Gabby approached the globe.

  Gabby sank into the old-fashioned wicker settee on the east side of the crystal and held out her hands. She touched the globe and closed her eyes as its warmth enclosed her, caressing her like a lover.

  She moaned softly. Almost against her will, her eyes opened as the colors churned. Christopher Saint’s image began to form. Only this time it was accompanied by his voice. “What the hell are you doing?” He stood behind her scowling.

  Gabby dropped her hands. Mortified, she felt her face turn scarlet. She couldn’t have been more embarrassed if he’d walked in on her and a lover. Sticking her chin in the air, she said angrily, “How dare you watch me you Peeping Tom.”

  Christopher eyed her with distaste. “I expect this sort of behavior from Aunt Tam, she’s a little fey. But you, you’re just plain crazy.”

  She stood up intent on sweeping past him.

  But as she moved away, his arm shot out and he pulled her hard against him. He may have been disgusted by her wanton reaction to the globe, but he was also aroused. That was quite evident.

  His eyes glittered like the globe as he stared down at her. Then abruptly, he lowered his head and his lips hard and sensual claimed hers.
/>
  Gabby had no intention of responding to his caveman tactics, but she found herself melting against him, weak in the knees, her insides turning to jelly.

  As he felt her response, his lips softened, becoming less demanding, more persuasive. His hands explored her body. His touch light as a butterfly.

  Her nerve ends tingled wherever his fingers moved.

  “I can’t fight you anymore. I want you, Gabriella. I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you in the rain,” he whispered against her ear, his breath labored and uneven.

  Heat shot through her like sizzling streaks of lightning. Maybe it was the residual affects of the crystal, but she wanted this impossible, arrogant man as much as he wanted her.

  Her hand reached down and settled firmly on his fly. “I believe you,” and smiled against his lips.

  His breath caught in his throat and the hand on her breast tightened. “I’m going to take that to mean you want me too.”

  His hand moved from her breast to her rib cage. Bending slightly, he placed his other behind her knees then picked her up.

  Gabby was not a small woman, but she felt light as a feather and fragile in his arms.

  He walked toward the banana trees then through them.

  Gabby’s eyes widened. A small gazebo had been built behind them. What Gabby had taken to be a rather large trellis for climbing vines, was actually the west side of a gazebo.

  Christopher smiled a smile that softened his hard features, as he laid her on a wide blue couch. “Uncle Edward liked his creature comforts.”

  Gabby nodded, too dazed to reply.

  Christopher gave her a wicked grin, the one that always sent her poor heart thumping. “I didn’t think there was any way to shut you up, but it appears I was wrong.”

  Under normal circumstances, Gabby would have at least given him a setdown, if not a slap across his tanned cheek, but the blood was coursing so hotly through her body, she was barely aware of what he was saying.

  “Shut up,” she said finally and drew his head down to hers.