The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

“For the thought first.”

  Her breath sighed out when she snapped the top open. The horse glowed against the black velvet, caught forever in mid-gallop, airborne and magnificent. The pin was fashioned of ruby jade, carved so intricately, so delicately that she almost expected to feel the bunch and flow of muscles as she ran a fingertip over it. The diamond eye glistened with triumph.

  “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.” She looked up at him. “So are you.”

  “That was my line.” He slipped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer. “You’re welcome,” he said as his mouth closed over hers.

  Of course, she was late. Kelsey dashed into the beauty salon babbling apologies. She was checking her watch anxiously by the time the manicurist was trying to do something elegant with her neglected nails.

  “Honey, why don’t we go for some tips?”

  “No, I’ll just break them off.” Her hair was bundled in huge foam rollers, her face coated with a pale green cream she’d somehow allowed herself to be talked into, and time was ticking away. “Just shape up what’s there and slap on some clear polish.”

  “Don’t you want something a little snazzier?”

  Kelsey stole a peek at the manicurist’s lethally long, carmine-slicked nails. “No, I’ll stick with subtlety.”

  With a shake of her head, the woman dunked Kelsey’s right hand in warm water. “Whatever you say, honey.”

  “It’s Kelsey, isn’t it?” A woman at the next station smiled at her. “I’m Janet Gardner. Overlook Farms, Kentucky?”

  “Oh, yes, Mrs. Gardner.” Kelsey decided not to say she hadn’t recognized the woman, not with the flame-colored hair coated with glistening blue cream and her face plastered with shocking pink. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “A face-lift without the scalpel, they tell me.” Janet laughed as she tapped a finger to the drying pink mask. “We’ll see about that. Yours?”

  “Oh, something about relaxing. Apparently I looked harried.”

  “Who doesn’t by the Belmont? My Hank and I are going to sleep for two weeks when we get back home. We promised ourselves.”

  Kelsey remembered Hank now—the stringy man she’d danced with the night before. He’d had sun-scored cheeks, a pencil-thin mustache, and a voice as rich as molasses. He’d wanted to teach her to tango.

  “Give your husband my best. He’s a terrific dancer.”

  “Oh, that’s my Hank.” Janet chuckled and preened. “All the ladies want a turn around the floor with him. He likes to tell people I married him for his feet.”

  Obliging the manicurist, Janet slipped off an emerald ring that could have doubled for a paperweight.

  “I saw your mother today at the track. It’s hard to believe we’ve been making the rounds together for . . . Well, that would be telling.”

  “You’ve known Naomi a long time.”

  “Since I married into this horse race. Of course, she was born into it.” Much more interested in gossiping than in the fashion magazine she’d been thumbing through with her free hand, Janet set it aside. Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “You were, too.”

  “Belatedly.”

  “Oh, I think it’s more that you came back to it belatedly. I remember seeing you at the track when you were in diapers.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, goodness, yes. Naomi was prouder of you than of any wall full of blue ribbons. We used to call you Naomi’s thoroughbred. But you wouldn’t remember that.”

  Naomi’s thoroughbred. The idea both pleased and saddened her. “No, I don’t.”

  “I met your father once or twice. Poor dear, he always looked so lost. He was a librarian?”

  “My father is the head of the English department at Georgetown University.”

  “Oh, yes,” Janet bubbled on, oblivious of the stiffness in Kelsey’s voice. Obligingly she dunked her fingers in the soaking bowl for her own manicure. “I knew it had something to do with books. Naomi doted on him. We all thought it was a shame things didn’t work out. But then, it happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

  “According to the statistics.”

  “Hank and I are the lucky ones. Twenty-eight years this September.”

  “Congratulations.” Since there was no escape, Kelsey tried a shift in topic. “You have children?”

  “Three. Two boys and a girl. Our DeeDee’s married now, and has two little girls of her own.” If she’d had a hand free, Janet would have gone straight for the pictures in her wallet. “My boys tell me they’re still looking. Of course, my youngest is barely twenty. He’s studying structural engineering. Not that I know anything about that.”

  She went on about her children at some length until Kelsey relaxed into the rhythm.

  “But there’s something special between a mother and daughter,” Janet said, cagily veering back. “Don’t you think? I mean, even after all these years of separation, you and Naomi look so sweet together. To tell you the truth, it’s been so long a lot of people forget she even had a daughter, if they knew in the first place.”

  Janet held up one hand, examined the first coat of mauve polish. “Yes, dear, that’s very nice.” When she shifted her attention back to Kelsey, her voice took on a confidential air. “I hope you won’t be offended if I tell you that most of us who knew Naomi, and the situation, were rooting for her. I mean, the idea of taking a child from its mother just seems unnatural.”

  Well aware that both manicurists had their ears pricked, Kelsey kept her voice cool. “I’m sure Naomi appreciated it.”

  “Not that it did any good. I’m sorry to say she was her own worst enemy during that trying time. I’ve always thought it was anger at your father that made her behave so recklessly. And the social scene was a bit . . . wilder back then. Still, Alec Bradley.” She clucked her tongue. “Naomi should have known better than to flirt in that direction. Oh.” As if she’d just remembered the outcome of that flirtation, Janet blinked and squirmed. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry. That would be a sore point.”

  The idea of a shooting death and a decade in prison being termed a sore point might have amused Kelsey under different circumstances. But she backtracked to the one statement that had caught her attention. “Did you know Alec Bradley?”

  “Oh, yes. Most of us back then at least knew of him. He was drop-dead gorgeous, as my DeeDee would say. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a smile that could melt a woman’s heart. He knew it, too. Believe me, he knew it and he used it. He even fluttered around me a bit—but Hank put a stop to that.” She giggled girlishly. “I admit I was a little flattered, even knowing his reputation.”

  “What reputation was that?”

  “Well, dear”—eagerly she scooted forward in her chair—“his family would barely acknowledge him. They may have had some financial reversals, but the blood was still blue. And there was that scandal with his first wife.” She hunkered still closer, assuming the gossip position. “He had a taste for older women, you know. Wealthy older women. Everyone knew his first wife settled on him generously in the divorce to save face. Not that it helped, really, because everyone knew he’d been, well, servicing the fillies, shall we say?”

  “So, he was a womanizer.”

  “Oh, a champion. And the buzz was, he charged for the service.”

  “He—women paid him, for sex?”

  Another giggle, slightly embarrassed. Janet preferred cagey euphemisms. “I don’t know if it was quite that blunt, but it was common knowledge that he could be bought. As an escort. There are a lot of single women, even in racing. Unmarried, divorced, between husbands. Alec could be hired to fill the gap. A handsome arm to hold for a party, at the track. He was, as I said, quite charming. And he tended to bet heavily. And badly.”

  When she smiled, pink flakes cracked from her face and drifted onto her black-and-gold bib like colorful dandruff. “Now, no one thought it was a business deal between him and your mother, dear. A woman like Naomi could have had any man she wanted. Still could. Alec seemed quite b
esotted with her. Though he did continue to indulge in the side flirtations. Naomi wasn’t one to put up with that sort of nonsense. They argued heatedly about that, and she gave him the boot.”

  This time Janet’s flustering was quite genuine. “That is—I mean—”

  “You were there that night.” Not interested in evasions or a sudden attack of conscience, Kelsey pressed. “The night he died?”

  “Yes, I was.” Janet moistened her lips, surprised and a bit unnerved by Kelsey’s direct question. “Hank and I were in Virginia on business. A number of racing people were at the country club for a party. There now, looks like I’m done.” She held up her hands. “And speaking of parties, I’m so looking forward to tonight. That handsome young man of yours has us all on the edge of our seats.”

  “They argued.” Kelsey ignored the squawk of protest from her manicurist when she shot out a hand and gripped Janet’s arm. “That night, they argued.”

  “Yes, dear.” Sorry now that she’d let her yen for gossip sink her over her head, Janet spoke kindly. “Several of us were questioned about it after the . . . difficulties. They argued quite audibly, and Naomi told him, in blunt terms, that their relationship was finished. They’d both been drinking perhaps a little more than was wise. Words flew. Naomi dashed a glass of champagne in his face, and walked out. It was the last I saw of her for a very long time.”

  In the bright clown mask, Janet’s eyes softened. “I was fond of Naomi. I still am. The man wasn’t worth it, dear. He simply wasn’t worth one minute of her time. I think the real crime is she didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Kelsey struggled to put the conversation in the back of her mind. She wanted to take it out again, to examine each and every word separately. It made a difference, didn’t it? Somehow it made a difference that Alec Bradley had been for hire.

  But however it altered the puzzle she so badly wanted to piece together, there was too much interference to concentrate.

  Whatever her mood, she had no intention of spoiling Gabe’s moment, or her mother’s contentment.

  She dressed early, and left Gabe a note in the center of the bed for him to meet her in the ballroom at precisely eight.

  Final details required her attention, whether the caterer, the florist, and the hotel staff agreed or not. It was to be perfect. And as she stood in the center of the huge, chandelier-lit room, it was.

  The red-and-white colors of Longshot predominated. In tablecloths, candles, flowers. To honor the three jewels in the Triple Crown, banks of red roses, sunny black-eyed Susans, and white carnations spilled from tables, tumbled from baskets. Black-suited waiters were lined up for inspection while the catering staff put the finishing touches on three enormous buffet tables.

  But her inspiration, her pièce de résistance, and her biggest headache had been the gambling.

  Oversize play money was available for purchase, and all for charity, but the details had kept her racing for days with the bureaucracy. Naomi’s thoroughbred had nipped all opposition at the wire.

  Now she could stand and study the roulette wheels, the dice and blackjack tables, and know she was presenting Gabe with the party of the season. And one, she thought, that would suit him like a second skin.

  While the orchestra tuned up she walked over and gave the wheel a reckless spin.

  “I’ll take red.”

  With a laugh, she turned around and smiled at Gabe. “You’re on time.”

  “You’re beautiful.” He didn’t cross to her, not yet. He just wanted to look. She wore glimmering white, a column that shimmered from the curve of her breasts to her ankles. His gift was pinned at her heart. Her hair was a tumble of curls, scooped back with glittering clips, falling over bare shoulders. Diamond and ruby drops dripped from her ears. “Really incredibly beautiful.”

  “Your colors.” She held out her hands to his. “What do you think?”

  “I think you astonish me.” Still holding her at arm’s length, he scanned the room. “What have you done here?”

  “Besides driving every merchant and city official within fifty miles insane? I’ve given you a casino for the night. Slater’s.”

  “And the proceeds?”

  “There’s a shelter for abused women and children in D.C.”

  His eyes darkened, then lowered to their joined hands. “You humble me, Kelsey.”

  “I love you, Gabe.”

  Moved, he lifted her hands to his lips. “What spin of the wheel brought you to me?”

  “The luckiest one of your life.” She glanced down, smiled at the silver ball nestled in its slot. “Red,” she murmured. “You win again. You know, Gabe, this isn’t just for you.”

  “No?”

  “No.” She inched closer, slipping her arms around his neck. “I want to watch you work here tonight. I have a feeling I’m going to find it very arousing.”

  And she did. Hours later when the room was crowded with people, the buffet tables decimated, the dance floor spinning with couples, she stood at Gabe’s shoulder and studied his technique.

  She’d thought she’d understood blackjack. A simple card game of luck and logic where you tried to get as close as possible to twenty-one. If you went over, you lost. But she couldn’t for the life of her understand why Gabe held and won on a measly fifteen one hand and hit, and won, on sixteen the next.

  “It’s just numbers,” he told her. “Nothing but numbers, darling.”

  That’s exactly what she’d thought. Until she’d seen him play. “There’s no way you can possibly remember all the numbers, the combinations.”

  He only smiled, tapped his cards, and added a four to his seventeen for twenty-one. “Here.” He pushed a stack of red and white chips at her. “You play for a while.”

  “All right, I will.” She took the seat he vacated, then glanced up when Naomi sat down beside her.

  “I’ve just lost a bundle at craps. I’m giving this game ten minutes before I nag Moses into dancing with me.” She tucked a sweep of golden hair behind her ear, then crossed her legs. After pushing out some chips, she scanned the room. “Quite a party.”

  “Your daughter’s amazing.”

  “I know.” Naomi’s brow furrowed as she studied her cards. “Hit me,” she instructed, then huffed out a breath. “Busted.”

  “It’s all for a good cause. Losing should warm your heart.” Nibbling her lip, Kelsey contemplated her eight and five. “Okay, I’ll take one. An eight! Another eight! I won!” She was chuckling as she raked in her chips, until she caught Naomi’s narrowed eye. “Well, winning warms the heart, too. Dance with my mother, Gabe, and I’ll see how much of your money I can lose.”

  “How could I turn down an offer like that?” He held out a hand, curling his fingers around Naomi’s. “You look wonderful tonight,” he said when they matched steps on the dance floor.

  “How would you know? You haven’t looked at anyone but Kelsey.”

  He said nothing for a moment. “I don’t seem to have a smooth answer to that.”

  Tilting her head back, she studied him carefully. “I’d be disappointed if you did. I like watching what she feels for you rush into her face. And I like knowing what you feel for her causes you to miss a step. In an odd way you’ve both been so structured. You trip each other up.”

  “But you’re worried.”

  “Not about what’s between the two of you. About everything else.” She glanced back to where Kelsey sat laughing at the blackjack table, shoving more chips forward. “I know she tried to brush off what happened the other night. But it terrifies me.”

  His eyes went cool, deceptively so. “It should never have happened. I should have been with her.”

  “No, it should never have happened,” Naomi agreed, but she was still looking at her daughter, not at Gabe. “I think she should stay at Three Willows—or better yet, go back to her father until this is settled.”

  He’d thought the same, but hearing it didn’t make it ea
sier. “Even if she agreed to that, we don’t know how long it will take to settle any of it.”

  “Any of it?”

  He cursed himself, another misstep. As far as Naomi knew, there was only the current trouble over the horses. “Who broke through my security, and what they intended to do. On the other hand, it might be over tomorrow, after the race is run.”

  “I’m going to count on that. I couldn’t stand for anything to happen to her, Gabe. I hate the idea that she’s been touched by any of the ugliness—just the kind of sordid business Milicent always claimed was part and parcel of racing.” She shook her head back, her eyes flashing. “But it’s not. It’s not what it’s about. Not what we’re about. But when it happens, it’s all people remember.”

  “Are you worried about Milicent Byden’s opinion?”

  “Hell, no.” The old defiance came back. “But I won’t let her be right. And I’ll be damned if I let her smirk over another blot on my honor. So I want this over. For Kelsey, for you. And for myself.”

  The room was cool and dark when Kelsey woke. She shifted lazily while images from the night before flowed through her mind. Color and light, voices, music. The dizzying spin of the wheel, the lightning toss of dice. She’d lost half of Gabe’s winnings at cards; he’d doubled them back at craps.

  Most of all, she remembered how he’d looked, dark and dangerous in evening clothes, those mouthwatering and unreadable blue eyes following the spin of the wheel, the fall of the cards. Then the way they would suddenly lock on hers and stop her breath.

  And when they’d been alone, when the evening and the noise and the crowds had been behind them, he’d lowered her to the bed. Those clever hands had played her then, teasing out moans, tempting out darker and darker needs.

  He had done things to her, done things for her she’d never imagined allowing, much less demanding.

  Now, waking, her body felt soft and tender, bruised and cherished. Eyes closed, she skimmed her hand over the sheet, wanting him. Groggy, she pushed herself up in bed and found herself alone.

  He wasn’t getting away that easily, she told herself. Still half dreaming, she crawled out of bed. She stumbled out into the parlor of the suite, belting her robe.