TheCrystal

by Sandra Cox

“Ned, where are you?” She pitched her voice to a whisper. The house was huge, he could be anywhere.

  Beatrice came running from her rooms behind the kitchen.

  Gabby’s face split in a wide grin when she saw her. Beatrice had on a red satin gown that reached from her throat to her feet. A bright red satin cap hid her grizzled curls. In her left hand, she held a wooden rolling pin.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” she demanded, panting and out of breath.

  “I think someone is in the house,” Gabby said in low tones.

  Just then Ned bayed.

  “The solarium. Quick,” Gabby shouted and began to run, Beatrice huffing and puffing behind her.

  “The crystal!” Gabby ran harder.

  They had nearly reached it when they heard a huge crash. The security system began emitting a harsh buzzing sound. The police would soon be on their way.

  As she reached the solarium, she flipped the switch, flooding it with light.

  She glanced quickly toward the back. The ball winked, untouched. Behind it was a yawning hole, where the would-be burglar had exited through the glass. Ned came trotting toward them, a piece of black cloth in his mouth.

  “Good boy, Ned.” Reaching down and patting him, Gabby gingerly removing the cloth from his mouth. “Our burglar is certainly consistent in his wearing apparel,” she observed, holding it at arm’s length and studying it.

  Beatrice bent to pat Ned, wheezing, “Dog, you is a hero. Again.”

  Tamara walked in as casually as if she were out for an afternoon stroll. She stopped beside the other two women and arched a winged eyebrow. “Someone is certainly determined to get my globe.”

  “My globe,” Gabby said automatically.

  Tapping a shell-pink fingertip against her chin, Tamara paid her no mind.

  Sirens screamed in the distance.

  Tamara turned to Beatrice. “You’d better get dressed. I’ll go to the door.”

  Gabby gave a long sigh. “I’ll go to the door. You’d better call Christopher, if you know where to get hold of him.”

  Tamara nodded. “He wears a pager. The poor dear is going to be dreadfully upset.”

  “Isn’t he just.” Gabby knew her tone sounded more spiteful than sympathetic.

  Tamara tilted her head to one side and gave her a quizzical look. At that moment, the doorbell rang.

  Gabby shrugged her shoulders and headed for the door.

  Two of New Orleans finest stood on the veranda, one middle-aged with a receding hairline and a paunch above his belt, the other young and eager.

  Tamara made a brief appearance but Gabby fielded most of the questions.

  It was closing in on three before the uniformed policemen left, dissatisfied with their report. “We’ll be sure and let you know if we run across anyone wearing a pair of black pants with a hole torn out of them,” the younger one said with heavy sarcasm.

  Gabby shut the door behind them, leaning against it.

  “Christopher will be in tomorrow,” Tamara said from the stairway.

  Gabby nodded, too tired to care one way or the other.

  Beatrice came out of the solarium, where she had been cleaning up broken glass and taping plastic over the window. “I’m going to bed,” she announced.

  Without a word, the other two women headed for their respective beds.

  The next morning Gabby dragged herself down the steps to the breakfast room. Dark circles ringed her eyes and she felt a hundred years old. Some people thrived on lack of sleep, she wasn’t one of them.

  Tamara sat at the table looking relaxed and fresh, wearing a wispy yellow dress that reached to her ankles.

  Next to her sat Christopher. His head, as usual, buried behind a newspaper.

  Tamara looked up and smiled. “Oh, hello, dear.”

  Sitting down, Gabby nodded and reached for the coffee.

  Tamara dabbed at her mouth with a white linen napkin, “Well, I’ll just leave you two young things to finish your breakfast.”

  Looking at her nearly full plate, Gabby protested, “But you haven’t finished your breakfast.”

  “My eyes were apparently bigger than my stomach.”

  Standing, she leaned over and kissed the top of Christopher’s head. “Have a good day, dears.” She floated out of the room.

  Gabby took a swallow of coffee. She felt the hot liquid roll down the back of her throat, felt the kick of caffeine and straightened her shoulders, prepared for battle. “Well, well if it’s not the premiere playboy of the South. Who were you seducing last night, anyone I know? The lovely oriental perhaps? A blonde in the afternoon, a brunette that night?”

  Christopher lowered the paper. His face looked nearly as haggard as her own. “I’m not in the mood, Gabriella,” he warned.

  She tried a different tack. “So why are your friends trying to steal my crystal? What’s so special about a ball that reflects nothing but your face?”

  That got his attention. He looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Excuse me?”

  It was hardly flattering, Gabby thought annoyed. “You heard me.”

  “My dear Ms. Bell,” he drawled hatefully. “Were you by chance smoking an illegal substance when you, er, saw my face in my aunt’s,” he emphasized, “globe?”

  Gabby wished the words back the moment they were out. Oh well, she’d wanted to see his reaction, even if the end result was that she looked a monumental fool.

  Gabby rose from the table. She hated wasting a perfectly good breakfast, but the alternative was unthinkable. She’d raid the kitchen later.

  Christopher’s hand shot out. “Wait,” he commanded.

  She looked pointedly at his hand.

  He dropped her wrist, stood and came round the table to stand beside her. “I owe you an apology.”

  Her eyes widened and her heart sank. Please, oh please, don’t say you’re sorry.

  “The last time I saw you I behaved boorishly and said some rather crude things. I’m not going to say I’m sorry for the sex. It was a fantastic experience. I just don’t want you to read anything into it. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  She reddened, but didn’t look away. “And don’t you read anything into it. Because I wouldn’t have you if you came crawling on all fours.”

  Christopher gave her a satirical smile. “Don’t hold your breath on that one.”

  Gabby looked him up and down. “So far,” she emphasized, “you are the best piece I’ve ever had. But as a human being you suck. And I have no doubt there are other womanizers out there that can match your performance.”

  Gabby tossed her head. Her hair flew about her face then settled back on her shoulders. Carrying herself like a queen, she stalked out of the room.

  Christopher stared after her, uncertain whether to laugh or go after her and shake her ’til her teeth rattled then kiss those pouty lips until they were both weak.

  He groaned and hoped she was making up that little conversation stopper about seeing his face in the globe. If not, he was doomed. But that was the second time she’d mentioned it, once in Springfield and now here.

  The noose was tightening around his neck.

  He had always been a lone wolf. He liked his lifestyle. He was responsible to no one but himself and his Aunt Tam. He had learned at an early age to take care of himself and avoid commitment. Commitment led to love and love could destroy you. Losing his mother had broken his young heart. And when it had finally healed, he’d lost Uncle Edward. Losing Aunt Tam didn’t bear thinking about. But there would be no more on his list of emotional casualties. He would make damn sure of that.

  No matter, he didn’t believe all that hogwash anyway.

  With a muttered curse, he stalked off in the opposite direction from Gabby.

  * * * * *

  Gabby paced the length of her room. She was a reporter and it was time she started acting like one. She was letting some heavy-duty attraction stand between her and a lead that had all the markings of a story
to launch her nationally. And she was living in the same house as the man who held the key to unlock the mystery, had bedded him in fact, or he her. She pulled that errant thought up right away. Better not go there.

  Christopher was a master at hiding his emotions. He could wriggle out of situations and answering her questions like an eel.

  But as much as he hated it, he wasn’t nearly as immune to her as he would like her to think. A grim smile crossed her lips. Maybe it was time to do a little role-playing. She walked to the French chest of drawers, opened a drawer and drew out her ammo. Gabby held up a skimpy pink top and a pair of white shorts, perfect for a muggy New Orleans evening.

  Taking a deep breath, Gabby straightened her shoulders and knocked. There was no reply. Looking up and down the hall, she slowly turned the knob.

  Entering Christopher’s suite, she heard water running. Her quarry was in the shower. Making sure she left the door wide open, Gabby sat on the bed and waited.

  Fifteen minutes later, Christopher emerged from his bath. His hair was wet and slicked back, his face shaven and a black towel knotted around his waist.

  It would be black, Gabby thought irrelevantly.

  Christopher came to a dead halt.

  Gabby let her gaze rove over him. What pecs! His skin was bronzed from the sun. A light matting of brown hair furred his chest. His shoulders were broad and his waist tapered. No wonder she’d succumbed. The man was drop-dead gorgeous.

  Her glance dropped lower. If the front of his towel was anything to go by, he liked what he saw too.

  He arched an eyebrow at her.

  Gabby swallowed her smirk and smiled. “Since neither of us finished breakfast this morning, I thought you’d like to buy me some coffee and beignets.”

  “What are you up to, Bell?” he asked bluntly.

  Gabby gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Just trying to be friendly.”

  “Knock it off. What do you want?” he demanded, as he looked at her, looked at his bed, then back at her again.

  Gabby pushed off the bed, walked over to the far wall and studied his sports memorabilia. Apparently, he had played baseball, football and basketball in high school and football in college.

  She could sense his gaze on her and felt heat.

  Gabby turned and glanced at him, once again reminded of a cat—not a tame housecat, but a jungle cat. His eyes were alert and he was balanced easily on the balls of his feet. Did the kitty intend to pounce and play with his victim or devour it?

  She shook her head at her imaginings and said bluntly, “I have questions and you have the answers.”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “What has your fertile little imagination come up with now? Has someone else’s face popped into the crystal ball?” he asked theatrically.

  Gabby started a hot reply then stopped herself. He was doing it again, sidetracking her, making her forget the issues. She crossed her arms. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “You scare sweet hell out of me,” he replied bluntly.

  Gabby gave him an astonished look. Whatever she had expected it wasn’t this.

  Unexpectedly, he capitulated. “Give me ten minutes to dress. I know a quiet courtyard that serves a fine cup of chicory and warm beignets.”

  Gabby smiled, her mouth already watering. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

  She turned and left. Before closing the door she thought she heard him say, “Saint, you are a fool.”

  Plopping down on an antique settee in the entryway, she thumbed through a local magazine then looked up when he came running lightly down the stairs, dressed in khakis, an olive-colored polo and loafers.

  “Ready?” Christopher asked.

  “Ready,” she smiled, putting down the magazine and getting up. I hope.

  Christopher escorted her to his Jag and held the door open as she climbed in.

  After she was settled, he shut her door, walked over to the driver’s side and got in.

  As the car purred to life, Christopher turned the wheel and slid it into the traffic.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabby headed for the breakfast room, humming under her breath. The day and the evening had been unexpectedly fun. Christopher could be quite charming when he chose. And he’d turned it on full blast last night.

  They had sat in a courtyard bathed in sunlight eating beignets, drinking chicory coffee and listening to a jazz band playing across the street. Afterwards, they’d spent the day touring New Orleans and the evening enjoying its night life.

  He’d skillfully parried all her questions about the necklace and globe and turned the conversation to safer subjects. When they’d returned home, he’d kissed her lightly on the cheek at her door and turned away, though not before Gabby had seen his eyes darken as he pressed her hand.

  The ring of the doorbell brought her back to the present. Gabby opened the door, thinking to save Beatrice a trip.

  Gulping, she stared into stony blue eyes the color of her own. A foot was hastily inserted in the doorway as she tried to slam the door.

  “Gabriella Josephine Bell, open this door immediately,” the voice bellowed loud enough to be heard up and down the block.

  Gabby reluctantly opened the door. “Hello, Daddy.”

  Sergeant Bell stepped inside. “What in the name of Mary, Joseph and Jesus are you doing here?” he thundered.

  Christopher emerged from the breakfast room carrying a newspaper. Freshly shaved and showered and looking impossibly sexy, his eyes met Gabby’s and his harsh features softened.

  He turned to the older man glaring indiscriminately at himself and Gabriella and said in a cold voice, “May I help you?”

  “You bet you can, you young whelp,” her father said grimly before lunging at Christopher.

  The move took Christopher by surprise. He grunted as the ham-like fist made contact with his flat stomach. Instinctively, he wrapped his fingers inside his palm and clipped the older man on the chin.

  Last evening’s pleasant companion turned into a wildcat, jumping on his back and clinging. “Don’t you hit my father!” she screamed. Christopher’s upraised fist dropped to his side and his jaw went slack with surprise. Father?

  The older man didn’t hesitate. His fist made contact with Christopher’s left eye.

  Gabby jumped off Christopher and stepped between the two men. She turned on her father. “Stop that this instant!”

  “Get out of the way, Gabriella,” he growled.

  A calm voice came from across the room. “I must concur with Gabriella, I can’t have you beating on my nephew, sir, or have my nephew hitting you.”

  Everyone stopped and turned as Tamara walked across the foyer.

  Sergeant Bell bowed instinctively and reached for his nonexistent cap. “Ma’am.”

  Tamara nodded. “I take it you are our lovely Gabriella’s father?”

  He bowed over her hand. “That is correct, ma’am.”

  Tamara went on as if they were being introduced at a ballroom instead of the middle of a brawl. “And have you made the acquaintance of my nephew?”

  A storm cloud once more descended over Sergeant Bell’s features. “I’ll not have my daughter being seduced by a shady character like this one. Gabby get your things, we’re going home.”

  Tamara laid her hand on the sergeant’s arm. “Mr. Bell, come into the breakfast room and have a nice cup of tea and let’s try to straighten out this little contretemps.”

  The sergeant hesitated.

  Tamara smiled up at him coquettishly. “I haven’t had the pleasure of having breakfast with a gentleman, other than my nephew, since my dear husband died.” She began leading him toward the breakfast room.

  To Christopher and Gabby’s amazement her father went, though he muttered direly, “It will be my pleasure ma’am. But don’t think to change my mind.”

  Christopher and Gabby stared at one another, bewildered.

  “Your eye is swelling.”

  “Eff my eye,” he said inelegantly.<
br />
  Gabby giggled.

  Christopher smiled back. A vase of roses on the white marble end table filled the room with a heady aroma. He plucked one out of crystal jar and handed it to Gabby. “You don’t have to go back you know,” he said abruptly. “You’re over twenty-one.”

  Gabby stared at him in astonishment. “I thought you would be dancing in the street when I left.”

  Christopher shrugged. If the truth were known, Gabby couldn’t have been any more astonished by his declaration that he was. He grinned crookedly. “You are a bit of an acquired taste. But seriously, Gabby, I don’t know how safe it would be. At least here, I could keep an eye on you.” If Lai doesn’t pull me away on another wild goose chase.

  Gabby’s face lit up. “So you finally realize I’m right,” she crowed.

  He looked at her as if she were demented. “What in sweet hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

  This time it was she who looked at him as if he were the one not hitting on all eight cylinders. “Why the globe of course. If you think I would be in danger, you have obviously realized it is truly mine, because you must know I wouldn’t leave without it.”

  Christopher swore low and quite fluently. “You are not taking that bloody globe.”

  Gabby opened her mouth to make a heated protest but before she could get started her esteemed parent walked in, Tamara on his arm.

  Gabby’s mouth fell open and even Christopher lost a bit of his aplomb. Her father was relaxed and smiling. Forgetting their earlier tiff, Gabby reached over and whispered. “Do you think she gave him drugs?”

  Christopher responded out of the corner of his mouth, “Whatever she offered, I believe he accepted.”

  They both stared at his aunt.

  Tamara wore her usual serene expression, but behind her bland façade her mind was racing. This was the woman meant for her beloved nephew. She knew that as well as she knew her own heart. She just wasn’t sure the two tiresome young people had tumbled to it yet. To use a tired, overworked phrase, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well she fully intended to find out if it did and if it didn’t she would try something else. She wasn’t young anymore and she fully intended to hold her as yet unborn grandchildren in her arms before she died.