Blush

by Suzanne Forster

  "Of course it's me," he said. "Who did you think it was?"

  When she didn't answer immediately, he began to glower. "Are you sleeping with that guy, Gus? Did you have sex with him in Mexico?"

  "No, of course not!" It was the truth, she told herself. She and Jack hadn't slept together, not in Mexico. "Let's not talk about sex, okay? We have more important things to discuss. "

  He propped himself up, rested his head against his fist, and gazed at her searchingly. "Right, like getting the marriage annulled—"

  Gus grabbed for the coverlet he'd pulled off her, suddenly uncomfortable about her nakedness. "Don't worry about the marriage right now, " she countered. "I don't even think it's legal. I've got something else in mind. "

  "Gus, if he touches you, I'll kill him. I swear, I'll kill him. In fact, that's a damn good idea, why don't I kill him?"

  "I've already thought of that, and I've come up with something, a plan—"

  "A plan to kill him? You'd do it yourself? No, that's much too dangerous. "

  "It's not what you're thinking, " she assured him, shrewdly deciding not to reveal what she had in mind. "I'm just going to get to know my new husband a little better, spend some time with him, that's all. "

  "No sex? No murder? I don't want you doing either of those things without me. "

  She laughed softly, feeling almost giddy at the craziness of her situation. She was in bed with her fiancé, talking about killing her husband, who was sleeping on the other side of the house in the guest room. "I wouldn't dream of doing either without you, okay, Rob? Now let me get some sleep, please. It's late, and I've got a big day tomorrow. "

  Suddenly it hit her that she hadn't told him the news. "I almost forgot!" she gasped out. "They're giving me the money. Ward made the announcement tonight, in front of Lake and Lily and everyone. I've got the startup money for my magazine. "

  A surge of joy made her light-headed, and she dropped back on the pillows, staring up at the frills and flounces of her cabbage rose canopy bed. Rob was one of the few people who could appreciate what the funding truly meant. He'd been operating as her business partner for the magazine, and he knew the tens of millions that were involved in a national launch of the scope they were planning. She wanted to reach people with this magazine. She wanted to touch them.

  "Jesus, Gus—" He seemed too stunned to assimilate the information. "That's fabulous. That means our brainchild worked. It if weren't for Culhane, it would have worked perfectly. Let's celebrate, " he said, pulling her into his arms.

  Gus felt herself stiffen as his hand slid down to her hip. and he drew her against him. When men wanted to celebrate, it always meant sex, but she couldn't do that. She wasn't sure why. She just couldn't. "Not tonight, I—"

  "Have a headache?"

  She sighed deeply and turned serious. "Rob, it was always your idea to keep our romantic relationship a secret, not mine. You're the one who felt it might damage your credibility as a publicist—and as my manager. We can't let people find out about us now. That would be a disaster. "

  She went on at length, convincing him that they had to be completely circumspect or everything they'd worked so hard to accomplish would be lost. "If something goes wrong now, if I'm f-found out—" The hoarseness that crept into her voice, the hesitation, spoke for itself apparently. He was one of the few people she'd ever told about her incident with the snakes and the resulting stammer, and now, hearing it seemed to defuse him.

  He nodded reluctantly and released her. "You're right, of course. We'll have to be very careful until this is resolved. "

  Moments later when he'd gone and Gus was alone once more, she threw off the bedcovers and flattened herself against the sheets, pressing her naked limbs to their coolness and staring at the ceiling. She had lied to Rob, about so many things, the least of which was the fact that she wasn't tired at all. She was wide awake and thinking about tomorrow, but it wasn't murder on her mind, it was... riding. Riding wild horses.

  "You know what they're doing, don't you? They're out there having sex on my horses!"

  Lily Featherstone banged down the sterling silver coffee urn without having poured herself any coffee. She left the bone china cup and saucer rattling on the mahogany sideboard as she advanced on the dining room window and peered out.

  The pale, sun-misted light of early morning crept over the rolling, wooded hills of the estate grounds and flooded the mullioned panes of the bay window, bathing her in a brightness that made her eyes teary. But Lily had no interest in the beauty of nature this morning. She was scathingly angry at her stepsister for sneaking off to ride without permission. According to Daniel, the stable hand, Gus and that primitive male friend of hers had left on Sapphire, Lily's own mount, and one of the other dozen horses they kept for guests to ride.

  Husband, Lily corrected. Gus had married some lowlife security person whom no one had ever heard of! Her sigh held genuine distress. "What's happening to this family?" she asked plaintively.

  "They're not having sex on the horses, I can assure you of that."

  Lily swung on her brother, furious with him for being so cavalier about the latest disaster Gus had brought down on their heads. Their younger stepsister had been a constant source of humiliation since the day she and her mother arrived, with their cheap Kmart clothes packed in cardboard boxes and their drugstore cosmetics. Why couldn't the trashy woman have taken Gus with her when she ran off?

  "How could you possibly think that?" she asked Lake. She tweaked the collar of her crisp white cotton blouse, unhappy with the way the placket was lying. "Did you see the way those two were looking at each other? I thought they were going to strip off in the drawing room and have at it right there. "

  "Would have been an improvement on the pianist."

  Lake's wry smile did little to mollify Lily. Her twin brother was still sitting at the dining room table, an unfinished plate of scrambled eggs and one of Frances's apple-bran muffins in front of him. They were alike in so many ways, including their disinterest in food before noon. Lily could barely stand the smell of cooked eggs. But there was a child in the house, as Gus so often reminded them, and children's growing bodies had to be nourished. What disturbed Lily was Lake's stubborn insistence on underestimating Gus. He persisted in seeing her as a rather charming nuisance as opposed to what she actually was—an insidious threat to the Featherstone family and everything they represented.

  "How can you say they're not having sex?" she wanted to know. "I'm quite sure they're having it on the horses, with the horses, and every other way they can think of. "

  Lake's expression was infuriatingly tolerant of his sister's pique. "They're not even sleeping together, Lily. They don't share a bedroom. "

  She made an impatient gesture and began to fuss with her blouse again. The Liz Claiborne slacks and matching vest she'd picked for her day of running errands were wrong, simply wrong. The western cut did nothing for her at all. With a growing sense of frustration, she scrutinized her reflection in the huge antique mirror that ran the length of the wall behind Lake. At thirty-seven she was already beginning to look droopy and pinched. Sad, she thought. She really looked quite sad. Time, like everything else in their lives, had clearly picked Lake to favor. It didn't seem to matter that they were twins. He looked ten years younger.

  "What does that mean—they're not sleeping together?" she wanted to know. "Lots of married couples don't sleep together. That doesn't stop them from having sex in the bathroom sink. "

  "And if they were?" He threw down his napkin and rose from the table, then picked up his cup and walked to the sideboard for more coffee. The dazzling white light from the window sheened his hair and stole what little color there was from his handsome, angular features. "Their sex lives are the least of it. We don't know who this man is. We don't know what he wants. "

  "Yes, exactly, " she chimed in, relieved they agreed on that much. "I think we can assume money's a large part of the attraction, don't you?"

  "Fo
r him? Probably, but I'm not convinced that's all there is to it. " He poured himself some coffee and joined her at the window, as if to help her spot the marauding couple.

  "I suppose we could hire a detective, " Lily ventured. Lake said nothing for a moment. "I've already taken care of that. "

  "You've hired a detective?"

  "Not exactly."

  Lily was astonished. Glancing at him, she wondered if she were imagining the grim set of his profile as he gazed at the hills of the Angeles Crest Forest in the distance. The sprawling state park bordered the northern border of the estate and conveniently provided Lily and her guests with myriad trails for riding. He was concerned, she realized. "Do you think Culhane is dangerous in some way?"

  "Just being cautious, " he said with a quick shake of his head. His easy smile returned.

  Lily had the distinct feeling he was keeping something from her, though that hardly seemed possible given their relationship. The rich aroma of his fresh, hot coffee drifted to her, and she reached for his cup with a smile, reassured when he relinquished it as if he'd read her intentions. They did understand each other. They'd always been able to communicate without words.

  She sipped the coffee slowly, savoring the hint of cinnamon that Frances often added. "One of your security guards—Howard, I think it was—told me he caught two tabloid reporters trying to climb the walls yesterday. There's tremendous curiosity about Gus's mystery man, as they're calling him. I'm just afraid they'll come after us, the family, I mean, and try to find something scandalous to expose. "

  "The Featherstone family secrets? Our own private can of nightcrawlers, you mean?" Lake tapped the windowpane as a sparrow landed on the sill in pursuit of the muffin crumbs that Frances sprinkled around after breakfast every morning.

  He was in a mood today. Lily couldn't decide if he was being mysterious or obtuse. Nightcrawlers? The analogy was so apt it made her want to shudder! "How can you be so casual about something like that? It would be a disaster if the media began probing into our lives. You know that as well as I. "

  He was suddenly contrite. "They're not interested in us, Lily, " he assured her. "It will take a few days, maybe even a few weeks, but the furor will die down. Something else even more sensational will distract them. "

  "If Gus will let it die. You know how she is, Lake. And she's going to want all the publicity she can get for this magazine of hers. " Lily could hardly contain her scorn. "She's already taken it upon herself to announce that ridiculous foundation. Can a press conference be far off? I swear, if she does one more thing to embarrass us, if she uses Jillian's name again to further her glory-seeking, I'll—"

  Lake stepped back from the window, took the cup from her hand, and set it down. With a knowing smile he turned her away from him and began to massage her neck and shoulders. "Everything's under control, Lily, " he crooned softly. "I'll take care of things. Haven't I always?"

  That wasn't entirely true. Lily could have mentioned a failing or two, including the vast sums he spent on art— squandered, in her opinion. But the mere touch of his hands brought a sigh to her lips. Her body was tight, especially there, and the pressure felt wonderful. As he began to knead more deeply, she rolled her head back and caught a glimpse of someone standing in the arched doorway. A soft exclamation slipped through her lips. "Who's there?"

  "Good morning to both of you. "

  Lake's hands dropped away as Ward McHenry entered the room. "Ward, " he said, clearly startled. "I didn't hear you come in. "

  McHenry looked a bit disconcerted himself. His ruddy features were rosier than ever, and his coppery hair seemed to be ablaze in the morning sunshine. He was carrying his suit jacket over his arm and his shirt collar was unbuttoned at the neck.

  Lily moved quickly to get their guest some coffee and put an end to the awkwardness. "Oh, didn't I tell you, Lake?" she explained as she went to the sideboard. "I invited Ward to spend the night. It seemed silly for him to make the drive back to Malibu at that time of night. "

  "Silly, yes," Lake agreed.

  But Lily could tell by the tone of her brother's voice that he didn't like having been taken by surprise. Ward had practically become a member of the family since their father died, but he'd also assumed the position of leadership in Featherstone, Inc., that would have gone to Lake had their father believed his son capable of running the family dynasty. Ward was chairman of the board and trust officer, which gave the older man nearly total control over the business. Lake's only power came from the majority shares of voting stock he'd been left by his father. He'd rarely exercised that power against McHenry, but Lily knew there was tension between them.

  "Did you sleep well?" Lily searched for any indication of Ward's reaction to what he'd seen as she approached him with the coffee.

  "Too well, " he said, returning her scrutiny as he took the cup she offered. "Apparently I missed breakfast?"

  "Not at all! I'm sure the eggs are still warm." She turned away from him, flushing from his inquisitive stare and feeling very much like a kitchen maid in her own home. Secretly Lily was angry with the man. He had confided his decision to release Gus's funds, but when Lily had pleaded with him to reconsider, he'd dismissed her arguments, claiming he had no choice. That was when Lily had begun to feel the true frustration of her situation. She had always been the weakest link in the Featherstone power structure, if not content to let the men run things, then resigned to it. Only recently had she become aware of her own wellspring of power, her inner resources, and the discovery felt good. It felt right. Was it possible that despite everything, she had more guts, more nerve, than all of them?

  The thunderous clatter of four pounding hooves beneath her and the rising heat of the horse's lunging body filled Gus's senses with excitement. A breeze from the west whipped the dark hair from her ponytail and stung her face with rushing blood. She hadn't ridden in years. She'd forgotten how rigorous and exhilarating it could be.

  When she drew back on the reins, Sapphire snorted wildly, resisting her, and Gus was struck by the shuddering strength that was hers to control. It reverberated upward to the roots of her hair. Horsepower, someone must have called it once, before that standard of measurement was used for cars.

  "Come on, girl!" Gus shouted, turning the restless horse toward the stream that ran through the Featherstone property. The glen, as the family had always called the wooded acreage on the northwestern border of the property, was still verdant and leafy green in July, its meadowlike clearings carpeted with summer wildflowers and tasseled, willowy grasses.

  Shouldering around as the horses slowed, Gus saw Jack bobbing along like a proverbial jack-in-the-box on the roan mare that Daniel had recommended as one of the gentler mounts in their stable. He was still some distance behind her, and she was glad he couldn't hear her laughter.

  By the time he arrived at the bank of the stream, she had already tied Sapphire to a post alongside the sparkling water, and she was standing in the shade of a large, bushy California oak, chewing on a blade of grass. She tried not to smile at his struggle to get his horse under control.

  "I thought you said you could ride, " she called to him over the noisy splash and gurgle of the stream. The glen was a veritable Eden this year, she'd decided, enchanted by all the growth and greenery. Summer showers had kept the streambed overflowing with clear, sparkling water, even though it was usually close to dry by now. Laced delicately through the tree branches overhead, emerald vines, heavy with summer's last honeysuckle blooms, perfumed the air with sweetness.

  "I thought you were talking about a trot through the meadow, not a goddamn rodeo event, " he called back. He whipped his leg over the horse's back and slid off the saddle like a pro. "Every time you goosed your horse, mine took off, too. "

  "It's all about controlling your animal, Jack, " she said, laughing as Ruby, his mare, began to wander off behind him toward something that had attracted her attention. "For example, right now she's heading for the greener pastures, and you may neve
r get her back. "

  "Shit!" Jack swung around and shot off after the beast. Ruby was apparently heading for a tasty patch of clover in the next county, but fortunately, he caught her before his outburst frightened her into flight. There was another little tussle as man and animal battled for ascendance, but to his credit, Jack quickly mastered the art of sweet talk. Crooning softly, he led her to a tree by the streambed, wrapped her reins around a low-hanging branch, and scratched her muzzle gently, making kissy noises. She seemed thoroughly charmed by the time he left her to cool her heels near a pool of water and a patch of grass. Staring after him with yearning in her big brown eyes, she nickered softly.

  Swell, Gus thought despairingly. Even female animals loved him. Bridget had clearly been smitten with him at dinner, though she'd hidden it by acting like a perfect little fiend and insisting on knowing everything about his relationship with Gus, including whether or not they planned to have children. Frances had saved the evening by scooping up the tiny white swan and carrying her off, with Bridget complaining all the way that she hadn't had her Ben & Jerry's Wavy Gravy ice cream for dessert.

  As Jack walked toward her now, Gus was not unaware of how sexy he looked with his long legs encased in faded denim. For a big man, he moved well in cowboy boots, too, effecting a rolling gait and an easy, unhurried air. He brushed absently at the sleeve of his denim jacket and then shook his head as if wanting to feel the breezes in his springy black hair.

  It actually gave her a little thrill watching him approach. She could feel a shiver of energy gathering in the pit of her stomach, and the vibrations built with each step he took. Perhaps it was nothing more than her trained eye, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from observing him as if he were a male candidate for the catwalk and assessing the physical details.

  The white T-shirt was a nice touch, too, she allowed, a striking contrast to the earth tones of his skin. So was his strong, rugged face and wide, sensitive mouth. She'd never noticed that about his mouth before, that it was sensitive.