“You have no idea how stimulating it is when she questions my work. Instead of accepting that I’m a bestselling author, and should know what I’m doing, she asks about every page. Most of all, she doesn’t mind the work. She’s extremely adaptable to my schedule.”
“Isn’t that her job?” He kept hold of his aunt’s arm as they descended the stairs.
“Her primary assignment is to protect me, not to do transcription. However, her deductive skills are excellent—far superior than most of my assistants. It’s only been one day and we’ve already had some of the most stimulating conversations I’ve enjoyed in years.”
As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Kane mentally questioned Shelby’s deductive skills. She hadn’t demonstrated good judgment by attacking him without confirming his identity. Then again, he’d have probably done the same. Secure the threat. Ask questions later.
Regardless of how smitten his aunt was with the bodyguard, he preferred to reserve judgment until he had more facts. “I’ll check her out,” he said. “I mean, check her background.”
“Really?” Aunt Rosalee grinned. “Check her out? The way you did before we came downstairs?”
“I know what you’re hinting at, and you can put that thought right out of your mind.”
She gave him an innocent look. “Whatever do you mean, Nelson?” But her laugh held no innocence at all.
He grimaced. It was his own fault he’d stared too long at the Northstar agent and inadvertently gave his aunt ammunition for her constant matchmaking attempts. “Come on. Your fans are waiting.” He steered her toward the party.
They crossed into the dining room where a few guests remained. “What about all these friends of yours?” He gestured to the crowd clustered into conversational groups. “Don’t they stimulate you?”
“Of course. However, I have a different expectation for this party. This…” Her wave encompassed the room. “Is my opportunity to give back to my fans. It’s apart from my real life. Besides, at my age, I’ll take all the adoration I can get.”
Kane thought about the threats she’d received. “Some of that adoration is getting out of hand.” He inspected the gathering in the dining room, grateful to see it had thinned out some, but there were still too many people for the conversation he wanted to have with his aunt. “Is there a room where we can talk in private?” It was time to settle the issue of these threats. He wanted his aunt to understand she didn’t have to put her life at risk for the sake of a story.
Rosalee glanced at her guests and then at the grandfather clock next to the staircase. “They’ll be leaving soon. Come and mingle for a bit. We’ll discuss whatever you’d like later.”
Chapter Six
Kane stood in the dining room next to his aunt, conversing with the last of the guests. Votive candles flickered on small tables scattered around the perimeter, adding to the festive atmosphere already provided by the old-fashioned Christmas tree centered in the large picture window. Traditional Christmas carols alternated with Celtic tunes and filled the air with holiday cheer. Kane mostly enjoyed the holiday season, but tonight, the only spirit that had moved him was the shot of whiskey he’d tossed back after coming downstairs. Not even the small plate of Marta’s enchiladas improved his mood.
He’d endured forty minutes of small talk, and well-wishers congratulating his aunt on her latest best seller. Having read a couple of her books, Kane knew the adulation was her due, but the steady diet of people touting her greatness was wearing.
Smiling at yet another congratulatory statement of a departing guest, he caught a glimpse of the Northstar agent slipping into the house. Her cocktail dress swished enticingly along the backs of her knees. The running shoes she’d changed into didn’t detract from slim, toned calves as she raced upstairs with the dog tucked securely under one arm.
It bothered him that Shelby had been the one checking the outside. He should’ve done it—along with taking a more serious tactic regarding the threats against his aunt. The least he could do was stand guard while the Northstar agent pretended to walk the dog, even though it meant enduring another version of Christmas Bells.
He should’ve arrived sooner. If he’d taken time to meet some of Rosalee’s friends, instead of sneaking up to her office, he would be in control of the situation. Instead, he rubbed the raw spot on his neck where the leash had bit into his skin and begrudgingly admitted the scrap of a woman had bested him.
Aunt Rosalee leaned close to him and murmured near his chin. “You’re staring again.”
Kane jerked his gaze back to his aunt and shrugged sheepishly. She was too observant. “Where’s Dad?”
“I hate people changing the subject on me, Nelson. You know that, and yet you do it just to avoid the real issue.”
Kane smiled. “I’m not avoiding anything.”
His aunt raised an eyebrow in complete disagreement.
“Dad?” He pressed.
“Fine. Don’t forget you’re the one who wanted a private discussion. I’ll get my licks in later.” Rosalee perused the nearly empty dining room with a sigh. “Your father must be hiding in the kitchen again, on the pretense of helping Marta. Never mind that the caterer has the holiday feast under control.”
Kane grinned. “That sounds like Dad.” He nodded toward the stairs. Shelby was descending, wearing those strappy sandals once again. “Now that your bodyguard has returned, I think I’ll join him.”
Rosalee glanced in Shelby’s direction. “Don’t be gone too long. After my guests leave, I want a few minutes with both you and your father.”
“I’ll drag him out by his collar if I have to.” Kane gave his aunt a quick hug. He’d only gone three steps when she called after him.
“Thirty minutes, or I’ll send Shelby after you—with a leash.”
Kane caught himself reaching for that tender spot again. His aunt would do exactly as she promised. He wondered if he held out for thirty-one minutes would Miss Shelby Northstar run around doing his aunt’s bidding?
****
As Shelby reached the bottom step, she watched Special Agent Kane escort one of the last guests to the door. He turned the lock and then headed through the dining room toward the kitchen. Good. She hadn’t wanted to face him after the humiliating reversal he pulled on her. But she refused to give the grumpy FBI agent the satisfaction of thinking he’d scared her. Even if it was just a little bit true.
Her wrists would sport bruises for a few days from those cuffs. Her ego might take a bit longer to heal. She took satisfaction in knowing she wasn’t the only one with marks. She’d left a few of her own with the dog’s leash.
She peeked at her watch. Earlier, when she’d checked in with the extra security help, Gerard Theron, everything had been quiet. The biggest challenge Gerard had was avoiding Marta’s spatula whenever he reached for the hors d’oeuvres. Soon, she could dismiss him with genuine gratitude for helping her guard all the doors to Rosalee’s home.
Now that she’d completed a circuit of house’s exterior, she needed to get back on duty. She entered the dining room to find Rosalee tidying up a side table. Without all the chatter, the cheerful holiday music seemed too loud. However, it didn’t drown out the sound of the door chime.
Shelby quickly crossed to the door before Rosalee could reach it. All night, Shelby had had to stop Rosalee from personally answering every knock. Marta had handled the greeting duties for most the evening, but right now she was in the kitchen wrapping up with the caterers.
Shelby opened the door to a tall elderly gentleman with an aristocratic bearing.
“Manny!” Rosalee exclaimed from behind Shelby. “You made it after all.”
He entered the foyer followed by another man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, complete with cap. The chauffeur removed the older gentleman’s overcoat and handed it to Shelby.
“You may wait for me in the car,” the man said to his chauffeur.
Without a word, the chauffeur nodded, turned, and closed the d
oor behind him.
Shelby draped the overcoat over the back of a chair as Rosalee and the older gentleman embraced.
The man had to be nearing the century mark. Although one bony hand held a cane, there was a sharpness about those blue eyes under a full head of white hair that lent an air of authority.
“Shelby, meet my dear friend and mentor, Herbert Mansfield.” Rosalee gestured to the older man.
Herbert Mansfield. Shelby’s stomach tightened as she recognized the ninety-year-old billionaire. It took all of her willpower to paste a smile on her face.
She’d never personally met Mansfield, but she’d dealt with the managers who ran his properties. She rented an apartment in one of his buildings and knew firsthand neither he, nor his managers, cared about the tenants as much as they cared for on-time payments.
She’d read that Mansfield branched into real estate after he’d made billions in oil. Rumor had it he’d gotten his start with Middle Eastern oil as early as the end of World War II. Shelby didn’t doubt it. Even though she stood back a few feet, he came off as slippery as old sludge.
“Manny, this is Shelby.” Rosalee conducted the introductions. “She’s my…new assistant.”
Shelby inwardly cringed at Rosalee’s hesitation. They’d agreed to introduce her to everyone but family as the assistant. If word got out she was here as Rosalee’s bodyguard, the person making the death threats might run to ground, then they’d never catch the culprit.
Shelby stretched out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mansfield.” She hoped an enthusiastic greeting would mask her immediate dislike of the billionaire.
“Ms. Shelby.” The oil baron took her hand and held it longer than was polite, as he sized her up.
She knew the moment he realized she wasn’t as old as her hair made her look. His bony grip tightened, surprisingly firm, and a gleam entered his eyes as though assessing whether he could take advantage of her. He gave her hand a final squeeze, and then dropped it as though he’d found no use for her at all.
Shelby wondered if she’d inadvertently given away her role.
Mansfield turned his attention to Rosalee. “My apologies for arriving so late. However, I couldn’t let the night pass without wishing you congratulations on reaching the best-seller’s list with your latest release. Again.”
“I know how busy you must be these days.” Rosalee patted his hand. “Your timing is perfect. The last of my guests have just left. We’ll have a quiet moment to catch up. How are the nomination hearings going?”
“Barely a media blip.” Mansfield gave a satisfied nod. “Nothing is going to stand in the way of Troy’s appointment.”
Rosalee glanced at Shelby. “Manny’s grandson, Troy, has been nominated for the U.S Court of Appeals.”
“Only one step away from Supreme Court Justice,” Mansfield said with a proud smile.
“He’ll make it. His integrity is above reproach.” Rosalee placed a hand on Mansfield’s arm. “Remember when he used to splash us all when we’d go to the pool?”
“He did like to tease you.” Mansfield’s chuckle seemed to rattle in his throat. “Takes me back some years and reminds me how old I am.”
Rosalee took his arm. “Nonsense. You get around better than I do some days.”
Shelby doubted that, knowing Rosalee was up with the sun to practice Tai Chi. However, she conceded Mansfield looked quite fit for his age. She wondered if the cane was more for effect than for necessity.
“The next time you see Troy, remind him he has my support.” Rosalee gestured toward a group of chairs beside a small table. “Please join me for a nightcap.”
“Will your…assistant join us?” The look he gave Shelby made her think he didn’t really believe she was Rosalee’s assistant.
“If you’d like.” Rosalee nodded with a smile.
“I’d be honored,” Shelby replied, ignoring the challenge in Mansfield’s expression.
“Honored?” Mansfield’s blue gaze pinned her like a butterfly to felt. “I see you spout fiction like your employer.”
Shelby took a mental step backward at the rude comment and wondered why this man was spoiling for a fight. They’d never met until tonight. He seemed to have taken as much of a dislike to her as she did to him. She nodded at Rosalee and hoped her smile didn’t look too tight. “I’ve learned from the best.”
“Be nice, Manny,” Rosalee said as she settled into the chair Mansfield held out for her. “I won’t have you scaring off the best assistant I’ve had in years.”
Shelby was startled by the compliment, and wondered if Rosalee was spouting more fiction, or truly appreciated her help on the manuscript pages this morning.
Mansfield gave a throaty growl. He sat and turned his stare on Rosalee. “You can’t blame me for the revolving door on your assistants, Rosie. I’m not the taskmaster. I’m not sure why, but I suspect Ms. Shelby here doesn’t like me.” He faced Shelby again. “Perhaps it’s not me, but my status.”
Shelby was surprised by Mansfield’s astute assessment. She dropped all pretense. “Your Midas touch makes no difference to me, Mr. Mansfield.”
“Ah. The little mouse has sharp teeth.” He punctuated his retort with a thump of his cane. “You don’t approve of my wealth?”
The author and the billionaire seemed to have a close relationship. Instead of crossing some unseen line, Shelby bit her unruly tongue and settled for not backing down from his stare.
He watched, waiting for her reply. When she stayed silent, he shook his head. “Such a waste. Won’t even defend herself.”
Rosalee leaned slightly forward in her chair, the sparkle in her eyes showing how much she’d enjoyed the interchange. “Don’t be fooled, Manny. Shelby likes to speak her mind. I’m surprised you’re still in one piece.” She looked over at Shelby. “Dear, perhaps you could tell Marta that Manny has arrived and to bring some tea?”
Shelby relaxed a little, hoping she hadn’t upset her client during the terse exchange. She usually didn’t worry about blending in as part of her job. She’d do well to remember that blending in was part of this job. “I don’t think I should leave—”
“And please tell Nelson and Phillip to stop hiding in the kitchen and join us,” Rosalee continued.
Shelby hesitated.
“I’ll be fine.” Rosalee used emphasis to ensure Shelby understood.
She didn’t like leaving the author unguarded, but couldn’t deny the request without blowing her cover. She nodded and hurried through the dining room, unsure if the disquiet she felt came from leaving her charge with an ornery old man or was due to the prospect of confronting Rosalee’s nephew again.
The reprieve from thinking about Agent Kane was too short. Now, it seemed they’d all sit down like one big happy family. Except, she wasn’t family. She wasn’t even a real assistant. As much as she’d like to give in to her natural instincts to avoid the group, she couldn’t. Her job was to protect Rosalee, no matter how uncomfortable the circumstances.
When she entered the kitchen, she found Kane and his father, Phillip, whom she’d met earlier, sitting at the breakfast nook with Gerard. They looked up as she crossed to the table.
“Is everything okay?” Gerard asked.
“Yes.” She spoke quickly. “Rosalee would like Mr. Kane and his son to join her in the dining room for a nightcap with Mr. Mansfield.”
Kane groaned, but she ignored him and looked at Marta. “Could you prepare some tea?”
“Sí, Mees Shelby.” Marta gave a smile, nodding.
“Thank you.” Shelby turned back to Gerard. “All the guests have left, except Mr. Mansfield. Once the caterers are finished, we can wrap up. Maybe another thirty minutes?”
“No problem.” Gerard checked his watch. “I’m here until you say otherwise.”
“I appreciate your help this evening.” Looking around, she noticed the younger Kane lingered to eavesdrop on her conversation with Gerard. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business but conceded his aunt
’s safety was his business.
When she headed back to the dining room, Kane joined her.
“Looks like you’ve got everything under control, Northstar.”
She refused to rise to the bait. “It’s my job.” It should have been his job if he’d taken these threats seriously. Maybe he got the point, since he didn’t say any more as they crossed the room to where Rosalee, Mansfield, and Phillip sat around the small table.
As Shelby approached, she heard Mansfield ask, “What does this letter say?”
She paused mid-stride. This man knew about the threats? How much had Rosalee told him?
Even Kane stopped and stared.
Rosalee leaned back in her chair and pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, making her bracelets clink. “It’s only another warning for me to stop writing my autobiography.” A look passed between her and Mansfield.
The temperature around the table seemed to drop. Phillip and Agent Kane had known about the letter, but obviously hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with Rosalee. And now, the author was airing out the whole thing for everyone.
“This makes the third one, doesn’t it?” Mansfield observed.
Rosalee nodded, her expression resigned.
“And not even forty-eight hours after that body was found in your hotel room.” Mansfield shook his head.
“What?” Both Kane and his father spoke at once.
“What body?” Kane stared at Rosalee and then Mansfield in turn.
“Just a hotel maid.” Mansfield waved a dismissive hand.
Rosalee gasped. “Manny! That’s so callous!”
“How the hell do you know about that?” Shelby asked before she could stop herself.
“Watch your language, little mouse,” Mansfield barked. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” Shelby attempted to keep her footing on professional ground, but in that moment, a surge of protectiveness to shield Rosalee from discussing the gruesome murder washed over her like a rogue wave. She’d never felt anything like it during her other assignments.
Tell It Like It Is Page 8
