Dragon eggs? How stupid was that? Still, it was a great excuse to talk. Maybe a morning meeting would put her back on Jace’s radar.
Jace was Beau’s opposite and worked as a producer managing content for the magazine and the International Explorer channel. Well-respected, and in demand, he was outgoing and authoritative. When he entered the room, others stopped what they were doing to listen. He had an artistic, wild vibe about him too that was exciting to be near. Always eye-catching, he dressed well, with accents of bold colors like earthy orange or rich purple. It was a treat to watch him walk past her desk and catch a whiff of his subtle sandalwood aftershave—that was, if he ever really shaved. His strong jaw seemed perpetually stubbled in a sexy way. With coppery skin and the swarthy good looks of a Barbary pirate chief, she half fantasized he was the son of some powerful khan and his mother was some delicate-boned beauty. Jace was both puzzling and stunning to look at. His sleek nose and chiseled bone structure made his origins difficult to guess. She wondered if there was a tribe of exotic people hiding somewhere on some long-forgotten island, who every now and then snuck away from their hidden paradise to work as office managers.
Foolishly, she’d told Jace on a casual date that she had no intention of getting involved with a coworker, so maybe some of the distance between them was her fault. She wanted to take it back. What a dummy she was for saying that.
Turning the corner, she darted down the hall after Beau, watching in frustration as he headed into Jace’s office and shut the door behind him.
Damn it. She was too late.
Devon cautiously approached the office, careful to avoid the frosted-glass panel near the door that would expose her loitering. She could clearly see Jace and Beau’s silhouettes inside, and when she pressed her ear to the thin wall, she heard their conversation.
“Where did you get that?” Jace grumbled.
“I’m so sorry I doubted you.” Beau sounded excited. “You were right about Devon. She just gave this to me. It’s still warm from her hand. She just reached into her pocket and offered it.”
Jace sighed. “Does she know what it is?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where did she get it?”
“She said some kook in Salem gave it to her.”
“Perhaps one of the old ones lives there?” Jace appeared to be examining the stone in his open hand. “This is more than good fortune—it’s a full-on sign of fate.”
“What do we do next?”
“We wait. We can’t pressure her,” Jace insisted.
Beau stepped back “You didn’t wait. You’ve dated Devon.”
“I’m not going to apologize for that.” Jace’s voice deepened. “It’s my right, and besides, I restrained myself.”
“So?” Beau sounded bitter. “I guess I’m expected to continue restraining myself?”
“Be patient.” Jace’s tone softened. “Everything’s falling into place.”
“You’re right. I just don’t want to lose the opportunity. She’s so perfect.”
“It won’t be long.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her scheduled photo spread just got canceled.” Jace laughed quietly. “Who do you think caused the cancellation? In good conscience, I had to inform legal that International Explorer had no right to reproduce those images.”
“I suspected it was you. Devon’s so talented and fearless. We should let her get the next round of exclusive photos.”
“She’s definitely my first choice.” Jace sighed with a deep purr that carried a distinctly sensual note.
“I agree.” Beau’s answer sounded soft and dreamy.
“You’ll get your chance.” Jace playfully slapped Beau’s chest. “Remember we share—”
Beau sniffed the air. “Hush.”
Both men remained silent for a few tense moments.
Devon pressed her ear to the wall, wondering what was going on. The silence in the other room dragged.
“I’m going to give the dragon egg back to Devon.” Beau said the words as if he were on stage. “Now.” He moved toward the door, taking deliberate steps.
Devon froze when she realized the door was about to be opened in her snooping face. She turned and dashed down the hallway toward her cubicle, her heart pounding. She leaped onto the edge of her desk and crossed her ankles as if she’d been comfortably perched there all along.
Her pulse raced as she reviewed the odd conversation in her mind. It was now obvious there was a wide world of weird going on under her nose, that plumbed a mile deeper than the staid office politics she was used to. The seemingly disjointed conversation in Jace’s office was nearly indecipherable. She had no idea what the hell all this meant. Both Jace and Beau seemed to see special significance in the wish stone, so she knew she was missing some important kernel of information. What was even more mystifying was the possibility that Jace and Beau were engaged in some sort of covert competition over her. That was a heady thought. Too bad they were both more talk than action.
Beau walked into the art department.
Devon struggled not to sound breathless when she spoke. “What did Jace say about the stone?”
“Not much.” Beau took hold of Devon’s hand and placed the stone in her palm with a gentle touch before he protectively curled her fingers around it. “Take good care of it. You don’t want to lose it.” He brought her clenched fist to his lips and brushed a little kiss against her hand.
A warm tremor shimmied up her spine. She stared into Beau’s eyes, suddenly unable to look away. Why didn’t the rest of the world see how wonderful this man was? Errant words slipped past her lips before they could be censored. “Would you like to go to lunch with me someday—just to talk?”
“I thought you didn’t get involved with coworkers.” Beau’s long, golden lashes flicked upward.
She already knew, but asked anyway. “Who told you that?”
“There you are.” Jace strode into Devon’s cubicle wearing a handsome silk shirt so dark a shade of emerald it was almost black. He plunked down a packet of flight vouchers and travel documents onto her desk. “There’s a travelers’ aid shot clinic on Ash Street, and if you leave now, you can get most of the immunizations during your lunch hour.”
“Why?” She stared at the vouchers in disbelief. The magazine’s budget had been whittled to straw. No one’s travel was comped.
Jace grinned. “You’re going to Amboseli National Park, Kenya. Actually, the park is near the border of Tanzania. Be sure to bring your Scherberg camera with you and take lots of pictures. Scherberg Corporation is sponsoring this little photo safari.”
Oh my God! This was life-changing. Her dream was coming true, and in such a bizarre way. Work was handing her this assignment? Unheard of. “Kenya? Tanzania? That’s where Mount Kilimanjaro is!” Her gaze drifted toward Beau. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”
Looking guilty, Beau shrugged. “You deserve it, and I’m happy for you.”
How sweet! And Beau had pretended her stone had something to do with Mount Kilimanjaro. Maybe he recommended her for the assignment and this was a cute way of surprising her? What an angel he was. She reached for his hand. “Beau, if you had something to do with me getting the assignment, you should say so and take credit.”
Beau’s eyes flashed with joy before immediately looking away. “It wasn’t me.”
A blinding smile lit Jace’s face. “Don’t I get credit for anything? I saw that sponsorship going to waste and funneled it right into your hands.”
Her mind raced. “Is this for real? I’m really being given a paid photo expedition?” Devon’s gaze darted between both men. She hoped to get some clue that this was a prank or a mistake, but saw nothing suspicious on either man’s face. This was too good to be true and right in line with wacky Witch Casey’s prediction. So much so it was a bit terrifying. “When do I leave?”
“As soon as you get your immunizations and pack.” Jace reached out and lightly brushed Devon
’s arm with his fingertips. “I’ve been to both Kenya and Tanzania. You’re going to love it.”
She smiled at Jace and Beau. Seeing the two of them standing together and beaming with happiness for her was almost too much. “I know there’s something going on here that I don’t understand, but I want to say thank you. I really appreciate it. This trip means so much to me. It’s my dream come true.” Had she told others in the office about her ambitions? She must have, but couldn’t remember when that would have happened.
They both smiled.
Jace tapped Beau’s shoulder. “My printer and my laptop have stopped speaking to each other. Can you do something about it?”
Beau blushed furiously. “Sure.”
Both men walked away and left her feeling like she was dreaming as she tidied her desk and made an appointment with the travelers’ aid clinic.
On her way to the clinic, she called her mom. In past months, taking care of her mother had been her main focus, and she was proud of it. Hell, with all the overtime she pulled, and flying back and forth between coasts, sometimes weekly for her mother’s chemo, there had been no time or energy to restart her own life. But that would change. Annie’s prognosis looked good; she was stronger than ever. “Mom, guess what?” She pushed the lobby door open and exited the building. Cool, moist air bathed her face. “I’m going on a photo safari to Amboseli National Park!”
“What?” Annie squealed.
“It’s at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro.”
“I know where it is, honey. How are you paying for this? You don’t have that many frequent flyer miles.”
She laughed. “The magazine is sending me.”
“You?” Annie sounded incredulous. “By yourself? Will you be safe?”
Oh no. She knew that tone all too well. As an only child, she’d been both coddled and burdened by her mother’s overprotective streak her entire life. “Yes, me. I can handle it.” Even as she said it, she wondered if it was true.
Annie sounded anxious. “When do you leave?”
The street was crowded with people bustling to catch a tram, a train, or a break. “I’m not sure, but soon.”
“Is your passport up to date? That can take six weeks, you know.”
A slow-moving group of pedestrians blocked the entrance to the BART subway. “I’m good.”
“What about shots?”
“I’m on my way to the travelers’ clinic now.”
“Some of those shots need to be taken in a series.”
Sometimes her mother treated her like she was two instead of thirty-two. “I know, Mom. I’ll plan accordingly. I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not stupid, it’s just this is a big trip. Africa is so far away, and....”
Here it comes, worry topped with more worry. “And what?”
“It’s a big unknown!”
“Not to the people who live there. Mom, aren’t you curious? I’ve always wanted this. It’s my dream.” She braced for the motherly dire warnings about spiders the size of kittens, parasites in the drinking water, or the threat of a political coup.
“I’m so happy for you, Devi. Especially after all you did for me this past year. You deserve this.”
“Really?” She was so stunned by her mother’s acceptance of the situation, she stepped off the curb and was nearly clipped by a man on a bicycle as he whizzed past. “I sort of thought you might try to talk me out of it.”
“Devi, you will always be braver than me. I’m so proud of you. Have an adventure. Take some chances. Live your life. I want you to do it.”
The words were so sincere and unexpected, she almost cried. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Bye, Devi. I have to run.”
“Bye.” She clicked the phone off. Her mother had changed for the better. Perhaps her brush with mortality had lightened her anxieties. For so many years it had been just her and her mother against the world. How she used to long to be part of a large, loud family and live in a home crowded with many different personalities and lots of love.
Across the street, she caught sight of a little girl clutching her mother’s hand, and her thoughts drifted.
DEVON HAD A FEW VIVID memories of her father, but they grew dimmer each year. Professor Tavin Mitchell had had a silly sense of humor, tousled ginger hair with a touch of silver, a broad smile with a slight overbite, and he had suffered a massive heart attack and died when she was only six. Afterward, her and her mother’s lives had changed drastically.
One memory that remained clear, largely due to its emotional charge and the many times her mother had recounted it, was a decisive day in a lawyer’s office.
The morning had started foggy and cool, and she’d been forced to wear fussy ribbons in her hair, her best heavy coat, tights, and a woolen dress that felt uncomfortably warm inside the overheated space. By her childish reckoning, they’d been there forever, and she was incredibly bored. Looking for distractions, she’d briefly break free of her mother’s lap, only to be scooped into Annie’s arms and held tight in place.
Annie made an appeal to the lawyer. “Mr. Breck, are you sure Elizabeth is coming? We’ve been waiting for over an hour.”
“I’m sure she’ll come.” Mr. Breck was a stout man with a steel-gray toupee that sat too far forward on his head and looked like a diving board. “It’s to her advantage to settle with you now and not drag things out.”
Her mother appeared uneasy. “Can’t you do more for me and Devon? As Tavin’s only child, doesn’t Devon have some rights?”
“Devon has rights.” Breck nodded. “But they are limited to what an illegitimate child not named in a will can claim.”
Annie raised her hand in anger. “We were married!”
“A provisional ceremony in Mexico with no existing paperwork filed in the US.” Mr. Breck sounded snappish. “Unfortunately, the divorce from the original Mrs. Mitchell was never finalized, so it’s a moot point.”
“It’s not a moot point.” Annie hugged Devon so tightly, Devon could barely breathe. “The week I found out I was pregnant, we went to Cancun to get married. Doesn’t that prove clear intent? Tavin was a loving man. He meant for Devon and me to be provided for.”
Breck looked away. “I’m sure he loved you very much, but Mr. Mitchell never updated his will, and his first wife, Elizabeth Mitchell, never signed the divorce papers. The properties are hers. The bulk of Mr. Mitchell’s estate is in the UK and subject to a much higher rate of taxation. Those are the facts, so let’s concentrate on what can be done for you.”
Her mother almost shook her. “This is flesh and blood. I’m a single mother now. How am I going to raise this child in San Francisco on a teacher’s salary?”
With his head tipped down, Mr. Breck stared over the top of his glasses. “We can help you locate a more affordable apartment in Oakland.”
Annie tensed. “So, Elizabeth is selling the townhouse? Terrific. She already has homes in London, Madrid, and Cornwall. Would she at least consider leasing the townhouse for a reasonable fee while Devon is living at home?”
“No.” Mr. Breck frowned. “Mrs. Mitchell was quite unmovable on the subject.”
“I’m Mrs. Mitchell.” Annie tapped her chest. “I should be Mrs. Mitchell. Tavin and Elizabeth had been living separate lives for years. For God’s sake, Tavin was only forty-six!” Every moment that passed, she sounded more desperate. “He was in great shape and cycled to campus every day. He thought he had years to figure this stuff out, and to be honest, he was convinced he’d outlive Elizabeth. Tavin said, ‘Liz is a drop-to-the-floor drunk and smokes like a fucking chimney!’”
The door opened. “I’m here!” An elegantly dressed but aloof woman walked into the office and unbuttoned her impeccably tailored tweed jacket. “Hello, Mr. Breck. I think you should know that your office walls are rather thin. Voices carry.” Elizabeth’s attention turned to Annie and Devon, and her cold, gray eyes narrowed to slits. “So, you’re Tavin’s black mistress. Finally we meet face-to-face.
I suppose I can see what the attraction was.” She leaned over Devon. “And this is his little walk on the wild side.” Elizabeth squinted. “She has Tavin’s freckles. How charming.” Her smile grew taut. “Don’t worry. I’m not a complete bitch. I’m not going to deprive little Devon of necessary child support. But I’m not going to give you a penny more than I legally have to. Your needs will be met, and the money will be delivered responsibly, a trickle at a time.” She turned to Mr. Breck. “Tavin was so sloppy with legalities. Let’s make sure matters are handled properly this time. Please write up a trust, naming me as the executor in charge of Devon’s financial welfare.”
Chapter 4
The flight to Africa was daunting. The sponsorship only paid for coach, which meant Devon was squeezed between other passengers in a long row of seats, far from the window, which was just fine with her.
Despite her ultralight adventure, when she’d had a goal and some semblance of control, she found heights deeply disturbing. Especially when the clouds parted to reveal jagged landscapes or endless vistas of plane-swallowing ocean. In short, a window would have been wasted on her.
Her legs and lower back ached, and she longed to stand or move around, but every time she stood or attempted a yoga stretch in the aisle, a beverage cart appeared or others crowded past, shooing her back into her assigned seat. Plus the man seated next to her seemed to be out of patience with her fidgeting, so Devon stayed put as much as possible.
A little inconvenience now would be worth it later. She’d been promised that the accommodations on the edge of Amboseli National Park would be authentically rustic, devoid of all modern amenities, but comfortable. She would become one with nature and experience Africa the way Victorian explorers had, except she wouldn’t be strolling through the foothills of Kilimanjaro carrying a silver-handled parasol and a loaded pistol. She’d have an expensive digital camera in one hand and the steering wheel of a wildly bouncing Jeep in the other, neither of which was very Victorian.
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