The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  They would be against. Temper might urge her to fly biting and scratching into his face, but she’d only end up on her butt again. Still, she had other weapons. And she’d use them all to pay him back for the years he’d left her alone.

  “I won’t waste good wine on you.” When his fingers relaxed, she brought the glass back to her lips. “And my time’s even more valuable. I have an engagement, Luke. You’ll have to excuse me.”

  “Your calendar’s free until the press conference tomorrow.” He lifted his glass in toast. “I already checked with Mouse. Why don’t we have a late supper? We can hash things out.”

  Fury simmered just below flash point. Carefully, Roxanne turned to her dressing table and sat. “No, thanks just the same.” Setting her glass aside, she began to cream off her stage makeup. “I’d just as soon dine with a rabid bat.”

  “Then we’ll talk here.”

  “Luke, time passes.” She tossed used tissues aside. He could see that beneath the glamour she’d painted on for the stage, she was only more beautiful. None of the pictures he’d managed to find and hoard over the years came close to what she was in the flesh. None of the longings he’d suffered could equal what speared through him now.

  “When it does,” she continued, patting moisturizer over her skin, “events either become larger than they were or smaller. You could say that whatever we had has become so small, it’s next to invisible. So let’s not hash, all right?”

  “I know I hurt you.” Whatever else he had been prepared to say froze in his throat as her eyes flashed to his in the glass. They were green smoke, and in them the emotions which swirled were painful to watch.

  “You have no idea what you did to me.” The words were hardly more than a whisper and left him battered. “No idea,” she repeated. “I loved you with all my heart, with everything I was or could be, and you shattered it. Shattered me. No, don’t.” She sucked in her breath, going stiff and still as his hand reached for her hair. “Don’t touch me again.”

  He let his hand hang a bare inch away before dropping it to his side. “You have every right to hate me. I’m only asking you to let me explain.”

  “Then you ask too much. Do you really think anything you could say would make up for it?” She turned on her seat and rose. She’d always been strong, he remembered. But she was stronger now, and distant as the moon. “That whatever explanation you could conjure up would put things right so I’d welcome you back with open arms and a turned-down bed?”

  She stopped herself, realizing she was preciously close to shouting and losing whatever small handhold she had on dignity. “I do have a right to hate you,” she said with more calm. “I could tell you that you broke my heart, and I put it back together with a lot of sweat and effort. And that would be true. I can also offer you a more pertinent truth. I simply have no heart where you’re concerned. You’re smoke and mirrors, Luke, and who knows better how deceiving they are than I?”

  He waited until he could be sure his voice would be as even as hers. “You want me to believe you feel nothing?”

  “It only matters to me what I believe.”

  He turned away, amazed that he’d wanted to be close to her for so long and now desperately needed distance. She was right. Time passes. No matter how much magic was left in him, he couldn’t wink away the years.

  Still, he wasn’t going to let the past continue to dictate his future. And he wanted that cool, succulent taste of revenge. For all of those things, he needed her.

  “If you’re telling me the truth about your feelings, then doing business with me shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I handle my own business.”

  “And very well, too.” Changing tactics, he took out a cigar and sat. “As I said earlier, I have a proposition for you. A business offer I think you’ll be very interested in.”

  She shrugged and removed the silver stars at her ears. “I doubt it.”

  “The philosophers’ stone” was all he said. The earrings clattered on the dressing table.

  “Don’t push the wrong button, Callahan.”

  “I know who has it. I know where it is, and I have some ideas on how to get it.” He smiled. “Those buttons suit you?”

  “How do you know?”

  Perhaps it was the flare of his lighter as he lit the cigar, but Roxanne thought she saw something hot and vicious flash into his eyes. “Let’s just say I’ve made it my business to know. Are you interested?”

  She shrugged, picked up her brush and began to pull it slowly through her hair. “I might be. Where do you think it is?”

  He couldn’t speak. Not when the memories and all the longings that ran through them were flooding him. Roxanne brushing her hair, all rose and gold, laughing over her shoulder. So slender, so lovely.

  Their eyes met in the mirror again. The shock of the mutual memory snapped like lightning in the air. Her hand trembled once as she set the brush aside.

  “I asked where you thought it was.”

  “I said I know.” He took a long, quiet breath. “It’s in a vault in a library of a house in Maryland. It’s owned by an old friend of ours.” Luke drew in smoke, expelled it in a thin blue cloud. “Sam Wyatt.”

  Roxanne’s eyes narrowed. Luke knew that look, and knew he had her. “You’re telling me Sam has the philosophers’ stone. The stone Max spent years looking for.”

  “That’s right. It seems to be genuine. Sam certainly believes it to be.”

  “Why would he want it?”

  “Because Max did,” Luke said simply. “And because he’s convinced it represents power. I doubt he sees anything mystical about it.” He shrugged and crossed his legs at the ankles. “It’s more a symbol of conquest. Max wanted it, Sam has it. Has had it for the last six months.”

  It seemed wise to sit again, to get her bearings. She hadn’t really believed in the stone. There had been times when she had hated even the legend of it for drawing her father further and further away from his narrowing pinpoint on reality. Yet if it existed . . .

  “How do you know about it, about Sam?”

  He could have told her. There were so many things he could have told her reaching back over that five-year gulf. But to tell some was to tell all. He, too, had pride.

  “It’s my business how. I’m asking you if you’re interested in acquiring the stone.”

  “If I were interested, there’s nothing stopping me from acquiring it on my own.”

  “I’d stop you.” He didn’t move from his relaxed slouch on the chair, but she sensed the challenge, and the barrier. “I’ve put a lot of time and effort into tracing that stone, Roxanne. I won’t let you slip it out from under me. But . . .” He turned the cigar to study the tip. “I’m offering you a kind of partnership.”

  “Why? Why should you offer, why should I accept?”

  “For Max.” He looked back at her. “Whatever is between us, or not between us, I love him, too.”

  That hurt. As she absorbed the pain, she gripped her hands together on her lap. “You’ve certainly shown your devotion over the last five years, haven’t you?”

  “I offered to explain.” He shrugged, reached out for his champagne. “Now you’ll have to wait. You can work with me and have the stone, or I’ll get it alone.”

  She hesitated. Her mind was already mulling over the possibilities. It wouldn’t be difficult to locate Sam’s home in Maryland—not since he was the front-runner in the upcoming senatorial elections. The security would be a little more difficult for precisely the same reason, but not impossible.

  “I’ll need to think about it.”

  He knew her too well. “Yes or no, Rox. Now. It would take you months to gather the information I already have. By the time you did, I’d have the stone.”

  “Then why do you need me?”

  “We’ll get to that. Yes or no.”

  She stared at him, at the face she’d known so well. There had been a time when she would have known what he was thinking, and certainly what
he was feeling. But the years had made a stranger of him.

  That was for the best, she decided. If he remained a stranger she could cope.

  “Yes.”

  The wave of relief was like a flood of fresh air. He could breathe again. His only outward reaction was a slight smile and nod. “Good. There are certain conditions.”

  Her eyes frosted. “Of course there are.”

  “I think you can live with them. There’s an auction to be held this fall in Washington.”

  “The Clideburg estate, I know.”

  “You should also know that the jewelry alone is valued in excess of six million.”

  “Six point eight, conservatively.”

  “Conservatively,” he agreed and downed the last of his champagne. “I want to hit it.”

  For an instant she couldn’t speak at all. “You’re out of your mind.” But the excitement in her eyes betrayed her. “You might as well stroll into the Smithsonian and try to cop the Hope Diamond.”

  “Bad luck.” Oh yes, he knew he had her. Rising, he reached for the bottle to pour them both more wine. “I’ve done quite a bit of the initial research. There are a few bugs to iron out.”

  “Atomic-sized, I imagine.”

  “A job is a job,” he said, quoting Max. “The bigger the complications, the grander the illusion.”

  “The auction’s in October. That doesn’t give us much time.”

  “Time enough. Particularly if you announce at your press conference tomorrow that you’ll be working with a partner again.”

  “Why in hell would I do that?”

  “Because we will, Roxy, onstage and off.” He took her hand and, ignoring her resistance, drew her to her feet. “Strictly business, babe. I’m a mystery come back. Put that together with the act we’ll create, and we’ll be a sensation. And have a tidy diversion in October—in our performance at the gala before the auction.”

  “You got us booked already?”

  He didn’t mind the sarcasm, not when he played to win. “You leave that to me. It’s all a hook, Rox, the performance, the auction, the stone. When it’s all over, we’ll both have what we want.”

  “I know what I want.” He still held her hand. She would have sworn she felt the power leaping from his fingers. It was a sensation that both frightened and aroused. “I’m not sure about you.”

  “You should be.” His eyes locked on hers. “You always were. I want you back, Roxanne.” He brought her rigid fingers to his lips. “And I’ve had a long time to figure out how to get the things I want. If you’re afraid of that, back out now.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.” She yanked her hand free of his, tossed up her chin. “I’m in, Callahan. When the job’s done, I’ll snap my fingers.” She did so, in front of his nose. “And you’ll be gone. That’s what I want.”

  He only laughed and, taking her by the shoulders, yanked her to him for one short, hard kiss. “God, it’s good to be back. Knock them dead at the press conference, Roxy. Tell them you’re working on something new. Whet their appetites. Afterward, I’ll come to your suite. We can start working out the details.”

  “No.” She pressed both hands on his chest to shove him away. “I’ll handle the press, then I’ll come to you. Make sure you have enough to keep me interested.”

  “That I can promise. I’m at the same hotel as you, one floor down.”

  Some of the color washed out of her cheeks. “How long have you been there?”

  “I only checked in an hour before the show.” Curious about her reaction, he tilted his head. “Why does that bother you?”

  “It just means I’ll have to check my locks more carefully.”

  The smile died out of his eyes. “No lock would keep me out if I decided to come in, Rox. A no from you would. Make it around noon,” he said and started toward the door. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Luke.” She didn’t move toward him. That was something she couldn’t give. “Have you seen Lily yet?” When he only shook his head, the heart she thought was so barricaded against him broke a little. “I’ll get her for you if you like.”

  “I can’t.” In his entire life he’d only loved two women. Facing both on the same night was more than he thought he could handle. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  Then he was gone, quickly and without another word. Roxanne wasn’t certain how long she stood staring at the door he’d closed behind him. She couldn’t be sure what she was feeling. Her life had been turned upside down when he’d left her. She didn’t think it had righted again by his return. If anything, he’d skewed it in an entirely different manner. This time, it would be up to her to control the angle and degree.

  But she was tired. Bone tired. Even the act of changing from her costume to street clothes seemed almost more than she could bear. Her fingers froze on the snap of her jeans when she heard the knock on her door.

  If he’d come back, she—but no, she thought with a sneer. Luke wouldn’t bother to knock.

  “Yes, who is it?”

  “It’s me, honey.” Eyes bright, Lily poked her head in the door. Some of the gleam faded when she scanned the room and found it empty but for Roxanne. “Mouse told me—I waited as long as I could.” She stepped in, spotted the mess of water and flowers on the floor. “He is here!” The smile was back and brilliant. “I could hardly believe it. Where’s he been? Is he okay? Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know where he’s been.” Roxanne picked up her purse, checking the contents to give her something to do with her hands. “He seems fine, and I have no idea where he is.”

  “But—but—he didn’t just leave again?”

  “Not the way you mean. He’s staying in town, at our hotel. We may have some business to discuss.”

  “Business?” With a laugh, Lily threw her arms around Roxanne and squeezed. “I guess that’s the last thing you two would have to talk about. I can’t wait to see him. It’s like a miracle.”

  “More like one of the seven plagues,” Roxanne muttered.

  “Now, Roxy, I’m sure he must’ve explained everything.”

  “I didn’t want to hear it.” She pulled away, fighting not to resent Lily’s easy acceptance. “I don’t care why he left or where he was. That part of my life’s over.”

  “Roxy—”

  “I mean it, Lily. If you want to kill the fatted calf, go right ahead. Just don’t expect me to join the feast.” She crouched to toss mangled roses in the trash. “It seems we might be working together, temporarily. But that’s all. There’s nothing personal between us anymore. That’s the way I want it.”

  “It may be what you say you want,” Lily said quietly. “It may even be the way you feel right now. But that isn’t the way it is, or ever can be.” Lily knelt down to lay a hand on Roxanne’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell him about Nathaniel.”

  “No.” She tossed a rose aside and stared dully down at the spot of blood where a thorn had pierced her thumb. “I was afraid at first when he said he was at the hotel that he already knew. But he doesn’t.”

  “Honey, you have to tell him.”

  “Why?” Her eyes burned fierce and furious.

  “Luke has a right—”

  “His rights ended five years ago. All the rights are mine now. Nathaniel’s mine. Damn it, Lily, don’t look at me that way.” She sprang to her feet to escape the soft, pitying gaze. “What should I have said? Oh, by the way, Callahan, a few months after you took a hike, I gave birth to your son. Looks just like you, too. He’s a great kid. Why don’t I introduce you to him sometime?” She pressed her hand over her mouth to hold back a sob.

  “Don’t, Roxy.”

  “I’m not going to.” She shook her head when Lily’s arms came around her. “I never cried over him. Not once. I’m not going to start now.” But she let herself be comforted, turning her cheek to Lily’s shoulder. “What would I tell Nate, Lily? Here’s the father I told you had to go away. He’s back now, but don’t get used to it because he might play n
ow-you-see-him-now-you-don’t.”

  “He wouldn’t turn his back on his son. He couldn’t.”

  “I won’t risk it.” She took a deep breath and stepped back, steadier. “If and when I decide to tell Luke about Nathaniel, it’ll be at a time and place of my choosing. I call the shots on this.” She gripped Lily’s shoulders and held firm. “I want your promise that you’ll say nothing.”

  “I won’t tell him, if you promise to do the right thing.”

  “I’m trying to. Let’s get going, okay? It’s been a long day.”

  Hours later, Roxanne stood in the doorway of the room where her son slept. Shadows were just beginning to fade, going pale and pearly in the early dawn. She listened to Nathaniel breathing. Her child, her miracle, her most potent magic. And she thought about the man who slept in a room below, the man who had helped her create a life.

  And she remembered how frightened she’d been when she’d sat down to tell her father that she was pregnant. How tightly Max had held her. Unflagging support from him, from Mouse and LeClerc. The booties Lily knitted that had looked like mutant mittens, the wallpaper Mouse had surprised her with for the nursery, the milk LeClerc had forced her to drink.

  The day she had felt the baby quicken for the first time. She’d nearly given in and wept then, but she’d held the tears off. Maternity clothes, swollen ankles. That first solid kick that had awakened her out of a sound sleep. Lamaze classes with Lily as her coach. And always that tiny seed of hope that remained planted deep that Luke would come back before their child was born.

  But he hadn’t. She’d gone through eighteen sweaty hours of labor, at turns terrified and exhilarated. She’d watched their son fight his way from her womb, she’d listened to his first indignant cry.

  And every day she’d looked at him and loved him and had seen Luke mirrored in his face.

  She’d watched her son grow, and had seen her father swallowed up by the illness no one could fight. She’d been alone. No matter how much love she’d felt in her home, there had been no one to turn to in the night. No arms to come around her and offer her comfort when she wept because her father no longer recognized her.