Secret Star

by Nora Roberts

  He toed off his shoes, then lowered her zipper inch by inch. His fingers barely brushed her skin as he spread the parted material, eased it down her body until it pooled at her feet. He turned her, stepped back.

  She wore only a garter, in the same hot blue as the dress, with stockings so sheer they appeared to be little more than mist. Her body was a fantasy of generous curves, and satin skin. Her hair fell like wild black rain over her shoulders.

  “Too many men have told you you’re beautiful for it to matter that I say it.”

  “Just tell me you want me. That matters.”

  “I want you, Grace.” He stepped to her again, took her into his arms, but instead of the greedy kiss she’d expected, he gave her one to slowly drown in. Her arms clutched around him, then went limp, at this new assault to the senses.

  “Kiss me again,” she murmured when his lips wandered to her throat. “Just like that. Again.”

  So his mouth met hers, let her sink a second time. With a dreamy hum of pleasure, she slipped his shirt away, let her hands explore. It was lovely to be savored, to be given the gift of a slow kindling flame, to feel the control slip out of her hands into his. And to trust.

  He let himself learn her body inch by generous inch. Pleasured them both by possessing those full firm breasts, first with hands, then with mouth. He lowered his hands, flicked the hooks of her stocking free one by one—hearing her quick catch of breath each time. Then slid his hands under the filmy fabric to flesh.

  Warm, smooth. He lowered her to the bed, felt her body yield beneath his. Soft, willing. Her lips answered his. Eager, generous.

  They watched each other in the light. Moved together. First a sigh, then a groan. She found muscle, the rough skin of an old scar, and the taste of man. Shifting, she drew his slacks down, feasted on his chest as she undressed him. When he took her breasts again, pulled her closer to suckle, her arms quivered and her hair drifted forward to curtain them both.

  She felt the heat rising, sliding through her blood like a fever, until her breath was short and shallow. She could hear herself saying his name, over and over, as he patiently built her toward the edge.

  Her eyes went cobalt, fascinating him. Her pillowsoft lips trembled, her glorious body quaked. Even as the need for release clawed at him, he continued to savor. Until he finally shifted her to her back and, with his eyes locked on hers, buried himself inside her.

  She arched upward, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body stunned with pleasure. “Seth.” Her breath expelled in a rush, burned her lungs. “It’s never… Not like this. Seth—”

  Before she could speak again, he closed her mouth with his and took her.

  When sleep came, Grace dreamed she was in her garden in the mountains, with the woods, thick and green and cool, surrounding her. The hollyhocks loomed taller than her head and bloomed in deep, rich reds and clear, shimmering whites. A hummingbird, shimmering sapphire and emerald, drank from a trumpet flower. Cosmos and coneflowers, dahlias and zinnias made a cheerful wave of mixed colors.

  Pansies turned their exotic little faces toward the sun and smiled.

  Here she was happy, at peace with herself. Alone, but never lonely. Here there was no sound but the song of the breeze through the leaves, the hum of bees, the faint music of the creek bubbling over rocks.

  She watched deer walk quietly out of the woods to drink from the slow-moving creek, their hooves lost in the low-lying mist that hugged the ground. The dawn light shimmered like silver, sparkled off the soft dew, caught rainbows in the mist.

  Content, she walked through her flowers, fingers brushing blooms, scents rising up to please her senses. She saw the glint among the blossoms, the bright, beckoning blue, and, stooping, plucked the stone from the ground.

  Power shimmered in her hand. It was a clean, flowing sensation, pure as water, potent as wine. For a moment, she stood very still, her hand open. The stone resting in her palm danced with the morning light.

  Hers to guard, she thought. To protect. And to give.

  When she heard the rustle in the woods, she turned, smiling. It would be him, she was certain. She’d waited for him all her life, wanted so desperately to welcome him, to walk into his arms and know they would wrap around her.

  She stepped forward, the stone warming her palm, the faint vibrations from it traveling like music up her arm and toward her heart. She would give it to him, she thought. She would give him everything she had, everything she was. For love had no boundaries.

  All at once, the light changed, hazed over. The air went cold and whipped with the wind. By the creek, the deer lifted their heads, alert, alarmed, then turned as one and fled into the sheltering trees. The hum of bees died into a rumble of thunder, and lightning snaked over the dingy sky.

  There in the darkened wood, close, too close to where her flowers bloomed, something moved stealthily. Her fingers clutched reflexively, closing fast over the stone. And through the leaves she saw eyes, bright, greedy. And watching.

  The shadows parted and opened the path to her.

  “No.” Frantic, Grace pushed at the hands that held her. “I won’t give it to you. It’s not for you.”

  “Easy.” Seth pulled her up, stroked her hair. “Just a nightmare. Shake it off now.”

  “Watching me…” She moaned it, pressed her face into his strong, bare shoulder, drew in his scent and was soothed. “He’s watching me. In the woods, watching me.”

  “No, you’re here with me.” Her heart was pounding hard enough to bring real concern. Seth tightened his grip, as if to slow it and block the tremors that shook her. “It’s a dream. There’s no one here but me. I’ve got you.”

  “Don’t let him touch me. I’ll die if he touches me.”

  “I won’t.” He tipped her face back. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, and warmed her trembling lips with his.

  “Seth.” Relief shuddered through her as she clutched at him. “I was waiting for you. In the garden, waiting for you.”

  “Okay. I’m here now.” To protect, he thought. And then to cherish. Shaken by the depth of that, he eased her backward, brushed the tumbled hair away from her face. “Must have been a bad one. Do you have a lot of nightmares?”

  “What?” Disoriented, trapped between the dream and the present, she only stared at him.

  “Do you want the light?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but reached around her to switch on the bedside lamp. Grace turned her face away from the glare, pressed her fisted hand against her heart. “Relax now. Come on.” He took her hand, started to open her fingers.

  “No.” She jerked it back. “He wants it.”

  “Wants what?”

  “The Star. He’s coming for it, and for me. He’s coming.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t…I don’t know.” Baffled now, she looked down at her hand, slowly opened it. “I was holding the stone.” She could still feel the heat, the weight. “I had it. I found it.”

  “It was a dream. The diamonds are locked in a vault. They’re safe.” He tipped a finger under her chin until her eyes met his. “You’re safe.”

  “It was a dream.” Saying it aloud brought both relief and embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” He studied her, saw that her face was white, her eyes were fragile. Something moved inside him, shifted, urged his hand to reach out, stroke that pale cheek. “You’ve had a rough few days, haven’t you?”

  It was just that, the quiet understanding in his voice, that had her eyes filling. She closed them to will back the tears and took careful breaths. The pressure in her chest was unbearable. “I’m going to get some water.”

  He simply reached out and drew her in. She’d hidden all that fear and grief and weariness inside her very well, he realized. Until now. “Why don’t you let it go?”

  Her breath hitched, tore. “I just need to—”

  “Let it go,” he repeated, and settled her head on his shoulder.

  She shuddered once, t
hen clung. Then wept.

  He offered no words. He just held her.

  At eight the next morning, Seth dropped her off at Cade’s. She’d protested the hour at which he shook her out of sleep, tried to curl herself into the mattress. He’d dealt with that by simply picking her up, carrying her into the shower and turning it on. Cold.

  He’d given her exactly thirty minutes to pull herself together, then packed her into the car.

  “The gestapo could have taken lessons from you,” she commented as he pulled up behind M.J.’s car. “My hair’s still wet.”

  “I didn’t have the hour to spare it must take to dry all that.”

  “I didn’t even have time to put my makeup on.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  “I suppose that’s your idea of a compliment.”

  “No, it’s just a fact.”

  She turned to him, looking arousing, rumpled and erotic in the strapless dress. “You, on the other hand, look all pressed and tidy.”

  “I didn’t take twenty minutes in the shower.” She’d sung in the shower, he remembered. Unbelievably off-key. Thinking of it made him smile. “Go away. I’ve got work to do.”

  She pouted, then reached for her purse. “Well, thanks for the lift, Lieutenant.” Then laughed when he pushed her back against the seat and gave her the long, thorough kiss she’d been hoping for.

  “That almost makes up for the one miserly cup of coffee you allowed me this morning.” She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, and her eyes sparkled into his. “I want to see you tonight.”

  “I’ll come by. If I can.”

  “I’ll be here.” She opened the door, shot him a look over her shoulder. “If I can.”

  Unable to resist, he watched her every sauntering step toward the house. The minute she closed the front door behind her, he shut his eyes.

  My God, he thought, he was in love with her. And it was totally impossible.

  Inside, Grace all but danced down the hall. She was in love. And it was glorious. It was new and fresh and the first. It was what she’d been waiting for her entire life. Her face glowed as she stepped into the kitchen and found Bailey and Cade at the table, sharing coffee.

  “Good morning, troops.” She all but sang it as she headed to the coffeepot.

  “Good morning to you.” Cade tucked his tongue in his cheek. “I like your pajamas.”

  Laughing, she carried her cup to the table, then leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth. “I just adore you. Bailey, I just adore this man. You’d better snap him up quick, before I get ideas.”

  Bailey smiled dreamily into her coffee, then looked up, eyes shining and damp. “We’re getting married in two weeks.”

  “What?” Grace bobbled her mug, sloshed coffee dangerously close to the rim. “What?” she repeated, and sat heavily.

  “He won’t wait.”

  “Why should I?” Reaching over the table, Cade took Bailey’s hand. “I love you.”

  “Married.” Grace looked down at their joined hands. A perfect match, she thought, and let out a shaky sigh. “That’s wonderful. That’s incredibly wonderful.” Laying a hand over theirs, she stared into Cade’s eyes. And saw exactly what she needed to see. “You’ll be good to her.” It wasn’t a question, it was acceptance.

  After giving his hand a quick squeeze, she sat back. “Well, a wedding to plan, and a whole two weeks to do it. That ought to make us all insane.”

  “It’s just going to be a small ceremony,” Bailey began. “Here at the house.”

  “I’m going to say one word.” Cade put a plea in his voice. “Elopement.”

  “No.” With a shake of her head, Bailey drew back, picked up her mug. “I’m not going to start our life together by insulting your family.”

  “They’re not human. You can’t insult the inhuman. Muffy will bring the beasts with her.”

  “Don’t call your niece and nephew beasts.”

  “Wait a minute.” Grace held up a hand. Her brows knit. “Muffy? Is that Muffy Parris West-lake? She’s your sister?”

  “Guilty.”

  Grace managed to suppress most of the snort of laughter. “That would make Doro Parris Lawrence your other sister.” She rolled her eyes, picturing the two annoying and self-important Washington hostesses. “Bailey, run for your life. Go to Vegas. You and Cade can get married by a nice Elvis-impersonator judge and have a delightful, quiet life in the desert. Change your names. Never come back.”

  “See?” Pleased, Cade slapped a hand on the table. “She knows them.”

  “Stop it, both of you.” Bailey refused to laugh, though her voice trembled with it. “We’ll have a small, dignified ceremony—with Cade’s family.” She smiled at Grace. “And mine.”

  “Keep working on her.” Cade rose. “I’ve got a couple things to do before I go into the office.”

  Grace picked up her coffee again. “I don’t know his family well,” she told Bailey. “I’ve managed to avoid that little pleasure, but I can tell you from what I do know, you’ve got the cream of the crop.”

  “I love him so much, Grace. I know it’s all happened quickly, but—”

  “What does time have to do with it?” Because she knew they were both about to get teary, she leaned forward. “We have to discuss the important, the vital, aspects of this situation, Bailey.” She took a deep breath. “When do we go shopping?”

  M.J. staggered in to the sound of laughter, and scowled at both of them. “I hate cheerful people in the morning.” She poured coffee, tried to inhale it, then turned to study Grace. “Well, well,” she said dryly. “Apparently you and the cop got to know each other last night.”

  “Well enough that I know he’s more than a badge and an attitude.” Irritated, she pushed her mug aside. “What have you got against him?”

  “Other than the fact he’s cold and arrogant, superior and stiff, nothing at all. Jack says they call him the Machine. Small wonder.”

  “I always find it interesting,” Grace said coolly, “when people only skim the surface, then judge another human being. All those traits you just listed describe a man you don’t know.”

  “M.J., drink your coffee.” Bailey rose to get the cream. “You know you’re not fit to be around until you’ve had a half a gallon.”

  M.J. shook her head, fisted a hand on a hip covered with a tattered T-shirt and equally tattered shorts. “Just because you slept with him, doesn’t mean you know him, either. You’re usually a hell of a lot more careful than that, Grace. You might let other people assume you pop into bed with a new guy every other night, but we know better. What the hell were you thinking of?”

  “I was thinking of me,” she shot back. “I wanted him. I needed him. He’s the first man who’s ever really touched me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and make something beautiful into something cheap.”

  No one spoke for a moment. Bailey stood near the table, the creamer in one hand. M.J. slowly straightened from the counter, whistled out a breath. “You’re falling for him.” Staggered, she raked a hand through her hair. “You’re really falling for him.”

  “I’ve already hit the ground with a splat. So what?”

  “I’m sorry.” M.J. struggled to adjust. She didn’t have to like the man, she told herself. She just had to love Grace. “There must be something to him, if he got to you. Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

  “No, I’m not sure I’m okay with it.” Temper drained, and doubt snuck in. “I don’t know why it’s happened or what to do about it. I just know it is. It wasn’t just sex.” She remembered how he had held her while she cried. How he’d left the light on for her without her having to ask. “I’ve been waiting for him all my life.”

  “I know what that means.” Bailey set the creamer down, took Grace’s hand. “Exactly.”

  “So do I.” With a sigh, M.J. stepped forward. “What’s happening to us? We’re three sensible women, and suddenly we’re guarding ancient mythical stones, running from bad guy
s and falling headlong into love with men we’ve just met. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s right,” Bailey said quietly. “You know it feels right.”

  “Yeah.” M.J. laid her hand over theirs. “I guess it does.”

  It wasn’t easy for Grace to go back into her house. This time, though, she wasn’t alone. M.J. and Jack flanked her like bookends.

  “Man.” Scanning the wreck of the living area, M.J. hissed out a breath. “I thought they did a number on my place. Of course, you’ve got a lot more toys to play with.”

  Then her gaze focused on the splintered railing. And the outline below. “You don’t want to do this now, Grace.”

  “The police cleared the scene. I have to get started on it sometime.”

  M.J. shook her head. “Where?”

  “I’ll start in the bedroom.” Grace managed a smile. “I’m about to make my dry cleaner a millionaire.”

  “I’ll see what I can do with the railing,” Jack told her. “Jury-rig something so it’s safe until you have it rebuilt.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Go on up,” M.J. suggested. “I’ll get a broom. And a bulldozer.” She waited until Grace was upstairs before she turned to Jack. “I’m going to do this down here. Get rid of…things.” Her gaze wandered to the outline. “She shouldn’t have to handle that.”

  He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You’re a stand-up pal, M.J.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” She inhaled sharply. “Let’s see if we can dig up the stereo or the TV out of this mess. I could use some racket in here.”

  It took most of the afternoon before Grace was satisfied that the house was cleared out enough to call in her cleaning service. She wanted every room scrubbed before she lived there again.

  And she was determined to do just that. To live, to be at home, to face whatever ghosts remained. To prove to herself that she could, she separated from M.J. and Jack and went shopping for the first replacements. Then, because the entire day had left her feeling raw, she stopped by Salvinis.

  She needed to see Bailey.

  And she needed to see the Stars.

  Once she was buzzed in, she found Bailey up in her office on the phone. With a smile, Bailey gestured her in. “Yes, Dr. Linstrum, I’m faxing the report to you now, and I’ll bring you the original personally before five. I can complete the final tests you’ve ordered tomorrow.”

  She listened a moment, ran a finger down the soapstone elephant on her desk. “No, I’m fine. I appreciate your concern, and your understanding. The Stars are my priority. I’ll have full copies of all the reports for your insurance carrier by end of business day Friday. Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”

  “You’re working very quickly,” Grace commented.

  “Despite all that happened, hardly any time was lost. And everyone will feel more comfortable when the stones are in the museum.”

  “I want to see them again, Bailey.” She let out a little laugh. “It’s silly, but I really need to. I had this dream last night—nightmare, really.”

  “What kind of dream?”

  Grace sat on the edge of the desk and told her. Though her voice was steady, her fingers tapped with nerves.

  “I had dreams, too,” Bailey murmured. “I’m still having them. So is M.J.”

  Uneasy, Grace shifted. “Like mine?”

  “Similar enough to be more than coincidence.” She rose, held out a hand for Grace’s. “Let’s go take a look.”

  “You’re not breaking any laws, are you?”

  As they walked downstairs together, Bailey sent her an amused look. “I think after what I’ve already done, this is a minor infraction.” She tried to block it, but a shudder escaped as they descended the last flight of steps, under which she’d once hidden from a killer.

  “Are you going to be all right here?” Instinctively Grace hooked an arm around Bailey’s shoulder. “I hate thinking of what happened, and now thinking of you working here, remembering it.”

  “It’s getting better. Grace, I’ve had my stepbrothers cremated. Or rather, Cade took care of the arrangements. He wouldn’t let me handle any of it.”

  “Good for him. You don’t owe them anything, Bailey. You never did. We’re your family. We always will be.”