Maybe This Time, page 45
“Can’t take it?”
She paddled over to him, arcing ripples in the water by trailing her hands. She stopped in front of him, standing so close that when he drew breath, her soaked blouse grazed his chest.
Crooking a finger up at him, Alyssa smiled. “Come here.”
He cast her a wary look. “I don’t trust you.”
“I want to kiss you,” she said.
He bent down. Her arms loosely draped his neck and her lips met his. Deciding all she really wanted was a kiss, he settled into it, relaxed his guard. Her hand drifted the width of his chest. “Mmm, that’s nice,” he said against her mouth.
She smiled, and lowered her hand to his waist. “Isn’t this a much nicer way to start the morning?” She curled her leg around his thigh. “I like your kissing more than your grumping. Don’t you?”
“I do.”
“You’re a very good kisser.” She curled a fingertip at his chin. “I’m not sure I approve. It must have taken a lot of women for you to become this accomplished.”
“A few,” he confessed. “Think of it as a fringe benefit.”
“Would you care to explain that?”
“No, I don’t think I would. Now you’ve got that look.”
“What look is that, darling?”
“The one you had when I tried to shave and found out you’d used my razor on your legs. The very one that tells me if I open my mouth you’re going to rip my tongue out.”
“Such violence. And I thought you a peaceable man.” She tut-tutted. “Still, I think you’d better explain.”
He arched a brow at her implied threat. “And if I don’t?”
Smiling sweetly, she let her hand drift across his ribs, then quickly swept down and captured him. “Go down, Kevan.”
“Alyssa,” he said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Come on, honey. You wouldn’t—”
“I would. Go down, Kevan.”
“You realize you’ll pay for this.”
“God, I hope so.”
Smiling, Kevan dutifully dunked himself—and took Alyssa with him.
ON THE BEACH, Alyssa curled her toes in the sand. Sitting back to back with Kevan, she looked out over the sun-sparkling water and saw no sign of the boat that would rescue them. “Kevan?”
“Yes.”
“You are going to marry me.” The sea breeze whipped a strand of her hair across her face. She brushed at it and looked back at him. “I mean, you haven’t decided against it, have you?”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I’m going to marry you.”
Relief eased the tension in her. His hand draped his steepled knees and sunlight glinted on his signet ring. She frowned. “The visions don’t frighten you?”
He pivoted on his rump until their knees met. “They don’t frighten me.”
“Good.” She tried a tentative smile.
Kevan didn’t smile back. “You’re going to marry me, aren’t you?”
She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Do you love me?”
“Forever,” he vowed.
“I’m going to marry you.”
He closed his eyes for a scant second and his expression eased. “My being a genius doesn’t frighten you?”
He hadn’t run. She’d risked telling him the truth—down-playing the extent of her visions—but the truth. And Kevan hadn’t run. “No, you don’t frighten me. I love you.”
“You will,” he promised, sealing their bond with a heart-melding kiss.
When he released her, Alyssa stood up and scanned the open water. Rigging rose high above the water line and the outline of a squatty shrimp boat broke the pencil thin line of the horizon. She extended a hand down to him. “Our ride’s here.”
Looking out on the water, Kevan squinted. Alyssa watched him and not the boat, fearing, anticipating, his reaction. Would he run now? Would he?
Wary, Kevan turned to face her. For a long moment, he studied her eyes, then a brilliant smile spread on his face.
Thirty-five
ALYSSA HUNG UP her office phone and cleared a spot on her cluttered desk to rest her head. The pain at her left temple had grown almost unbearable. In seven hours she would marry Kevan. Getting married in itself incited stress. Marrying Kevan, the man in her visions, pushed her beyond stress and headlong into anxiety. Especially after last night.
She groaned and rubbed her left temple. The pain throbbed stronger, gripping her like a pulsing fist. Last night’s vision had shattered her. Kevan had been with her, but, of course, he’d seen nothing. Should she marry him? Knowing what she knew now, was it wrong to grab what happiness she could in this life?
Pain streaked through her chest. The Elder was summoning. Alyssa forced her head up, her eyes open. A silvery mist swirled in thin bands beside her desk, growing thick as fog. From within it appeared the Elder of the Council of Perfection.
“Child?”
Alyssa bowed her head, crossed her heart with her hand. “It’s good to see you again, your grace.”
“You are in pain.”
He waved a bony hand knobby with blue vessels. It seemed a great strain for him, and, immediately, the throbbing in her head stopped. “Thank you. Are you ill, your grace?”
“It is of no consequence,” he replied, his right eye flat and colorless, his left flooded with light. “Have you found him?”
“Yes, I have. And you were right, of course. I saw Kevan’s ring, before I saw him.”
“And the other visions? Of Scotland and England?”
“I saw those, too. And one of a dim and eerie place with odd glimmering light. He wore a loincloth there.”
“Yes, I know.” The Elder stroked his long white beard.
Alyssa wasn’t surprised by his disclosure. It had happened often through the years. “You also know about the vision last night.”
“The one regarding your death?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Her heart plummeted and she fought the urge to cry. “Yes.”
“The season has come, child. The leaves are changing.”
Tears clogged her throat. “I’m to marry him today. How can I do that, knowing I’m going to die?”
The Elder graced her with a tender smile. “All mortals must die, child.”
“But they don’t know when,” she countered. “I do. I—I can’t do it, your grace. I love him. It’ll hurt him more to lose a wife than to lose a lover.”
The Elder nodded. “If your heart knows, you shall not know.”
Alyssa pondered then voiced her interpretation. “The heart can’t discern the difference. Love is love, and either way Kevan will suffer, is that your message to me?”
“You have learned well, child. The Council is most pleased with you.”
“Thank you.” Alyssa inclined her head. “I’m concerned about you. Why do you seem so ill? What is the significance of your eyes?” She smiled at him. “And please don’t say, ‘it’s of no consequence’ because I shall then be forced to disagree with you.”
“It is of consequence,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “The season is come, not passed. Marry your heart’s desire, Alyssa—you must to fulfill your destiny. And take joy in your time together.”
“Yes, your grace.” The tears threatening her, spilled down her cheeks. “He loves me.”
“Yes, he does.”
“And I love him, too.” She resisted the urge to wring her hands in her skirt, keeping them tightly fisted at her sides. “With all my heart.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I don’t want to leave him. It took so long to find him. What else must we do?”
“Have faith in your humble servant.” The Elder’s image, the vaporous mist, faded.
Alyssa plopped down at her desk. She served the Elder, the Council. Who served her?
The intercom buzzed. Alyssa started, then lifted the phone. “Yes, Margaret.”
“‘Bout time you answered. I’ve got work to do, you know.”
“Margar—”
“I thought you’d want to know,” Margaret interrupted. “We haven’t got spit.”
Alyssa stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“We sent a messenger over to Paragon Oil to drop off those papers to Duncan Foster.”
“Yes, so?”
“So,” Margaret said sharply, “Paragon Oil isn’t there.”
“How can Paragon not be there? Honestly, Margaret, have you dipped your head in one too many weird books?”
“I said, Paragon isn’t there. The office is rented to an oil company, all right. But it isn’t Paragon.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Horizon Oil,” Margaret informed her. “They’ve been there three years.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“James MacMillian didn’t either. But he learned different. On his way back to the office, he did some checking. Horizon’s been in that same office three years, just like the man said.”
“What man?” Alyssa asked, wondering what exactly was going on.
“Kenrick Innes.”
An ill feeling overcame Alyssa. One she didn’t understand, but couldn’t deny. “Have James come to my office.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Margaret. You’d better get Kevan on the phone for me. Something’s rotten in the woodpile.”
“And you can bet your bippie it isn’t a log.”
Alyssa rolled her gaze heavenward, hung up, and re-dialed Paragon’s number. Her hand, holding the receiver, felt clammy. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since she and Kevan had returned to New Orleans. And with each one of them, this Paragon Oil thing had become more baffling.
A high-pitched signal pierced her ear. A recording followed.
“Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again.”
Alyssa followed that advice twice, then called the phone company. Eventually, she was connected with customer service, and finally with a supervisor named Mrs. Serge.
“That number hasn’t been active for years, Ms. Cameron.”
“That’s impossible,” Alyssa countered. “A month ago, Paragon Oil—”
“I’m sorry. Hold please and I’ll verify.”
Kevan strode into Alyssa’s office, bent over her desk and kissed her. “Hi. Busy?”
“On hold,” Alyssa whispered.
He walked around, helped her to her feet, sat in her chair and pulled her onto his lap. His satisfied sigh made Alyssa laugh. “Kevan Buchannan, you are incorrigible.”
“I know.” He smiled and nibbled at her earlobe, not at all bothered by his shortcomings. “What’s this about Paragon?”
“James went to deliver the proposal. Paragon’s address turns out to be Horizon Oil’s headquarters. And Paragon’s number is dormant, Kevan. I’ve got a woman verifying that now.”
“A subsidiary, maybe?” he suggested, moving down to taste her neck.
“Ms. Cameron,” Mrs. Serge said, coming back on the line.
“Yes.”
“That number’s been inactive for three years. It belonged to a skating rink before then. We assigned it twice afterward, but the clients complained about receiving too many calls from kids, so we pulled it.”
“Is that uncommon?”
“Oh, no,” she assured Alyssa. “Quite common, in fact. I also ran a check on Paragon Oil.”
Alyssa knew what was coming. Not why, but what. “There isn’t a listing,” she said.
“No,” the representative confirmed, “there isn’t.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Serge.”
Alyssa dropped the receiver onto its cradle, then looked at Kevan. “We’ve been had.”
KEVAN STOOD beside Alyssa in Kenrick Innes’s sleek executive office. Innes lounged back against his desktop. His flaming red hair glinted in the sun streaking in through vertical blinds at the window. Why had Alyssa refused his offer to sit down? Had she hated the man on sight, too?
Kevan stifled a shiver. He hadn’t experienced that feeling before: hating a total stranger. But he hated Innes.
“You’re sure about this,” Alyssa asked. “You’ve never heard of Paragon Oil?”
Innes’s laugh was as crafty as his eyes. “Oil’s my business, Ms. Cameron. If Paragon existed, I’d know it.”
Kevan caught Alyssa’s arm. “Thank you for your time.” He extended his hand to end the brief meeting.
Alyssa stood woodenly at his side. She said nothing, and she didn’t accept Innes’s hand.
They exited the chrome and glass office, rode down to the street level floor in a wide, paneled elevator, then crossed the lobby filled with lush, green foliage. Alyssa still hadn’t said a word. But when they stepped outside, she stopped, took in a deep breath, and turned to him.
“Kevan, I hated that man.”
He felt relieved. Upset, Alyssa ranted, she didn’t clam up. “I did, too.”
She frowned. “Do you know why?”
“No,” he replied. “Just a feeling. You?”
She wrapped her body with her arms. “Every time I looked at him, I saw spiders and . . .” She gave Kevan a negative nod.
“And what? What else did you see?”
He saw fear in her wide eyes. “Blood,” she whispered, looking shaken. “I saw blood.”
“Have you done that with anyone before?”
“No, I haven’t.” She reached out and clasped his hand. “Do you think he lied?”
“I think we’d better find out.” Kevan glanced down at his watch. “But it’ll have to wait. Right now, we’ve got something more important to do.”
“What?”
Kevan smiled. “We’re getting married.”
Alyssa’s jaw fell slack. “It’s that late?”
“Ten till five.”
She grimaced. “Well, flip.”
“That enthused, huh?” He forced the grin from his face.
“Blast it. I wanted to get dressed up, to look gorgeous for you.” She arched him a warning look. “I only intend to do this once.”
“Damn right,” he agreed. “And you’re already gorgeous.”
He bent and kissed her there on the street.
THE JUDGE’S chambers smelled of old money, lemon oil, and cherry tobacco. Files and opened books littered every inch of the wide desk. Feeling bittersweet, Alyssa stood beside Kevan. He took her hand, and she felt his slight tremble. How she loved this man. And, God forgive her, how she would hurt him.
The judge adjusted his thick black-framed glasses, and began the ceremony. His rich melodious voice soothed her, brought the Elder’s rasped words of comfort to her mind: “Have faith in your humble servant.”
She responded at the appropriate times. So did Kevan. Then he was saying he loved her, kissing her, and the ceremony officially ended.
They were married. Kevan Buchannan was now her husband. And, soon, he would be her widower.
God help them both.
KEVAN WANTED to shake her. Two months they’d been married. Alyssa’d been amiable on everything: merging their businesses, their homes, their lives. Two months, and not once had she raised her voice or vented her hellish temper. It wasn’t natural, or normal. Not for Alyssa.
Lying in bed, he looked at her. Rigid as a board, she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. It shone like spun silver. He scrunched his pillow and folded his arms behind his head. “We need to talk about this.”
Her brushing hand hesitated for a brief second. “About what, darling?”
“About your not showing up for work until noon today. And, when that mystery’s resolved, we can discuss your seeing a doctor instead of a quack.”
“I went for a walk, Kevan, and Dr. Samuels is not a quack.”
“You walked for four hours?” He felt his temper rising and squelched it. “Were you off trying to resolve the Paragon thing again? Never mind. Don’t answer that.” He raked a hand through his hair. “We agreed to drop it. To let the whole Paragon issue remain unsolved.”
“We did.”
Kevan felt his gut knot. His suspicion had been growing for weeks. Did Alyssa think that he wasn’t measuring up to his visionary counterpart? Was she in love with the vision and not the man, after all? By God, he needed an answer. Feeling more vulnerable than he ever had in his life, he asked her. “Is there another man? Is that it?”
She dropped the brush. “No!”
“For God’s sake, Alyssa, would you look at me?”
Her shoulders lifted and she slowly swiveled toward him on her stool. “There is no other man, darling. I swear it. I love you.”
The sadness in her voice cut him like a knife. “Where were you, then?”
Alyssa paused. She’d love to tell Kevan where she’d been. But she couldn’t. She didn’t know herself. She’d racked her brain all afternoon, but she recalled nothing between leaving home at 7:30 and arriving at their office at 11:30. And she couldn’t tell Kevan the truth about why she couldn’t remember. She had promised herself to protect him as long as she could.
Unable to meet his eyes and lie, she studied her hands folded in her lap. “I was investigating Paragon.” She looked up at him. “Did you know that no articles of incorporation were filed? No Louisiana business license was issued. No charter, no—no nothing.”
Kevan’s voice softened. “I know, love. We found that out six weeks ago.”
“Yes,” she agreed, having no memory of that at all. “That’s right.”
Pain seared her left temple. She pressed her fingertips to it.
“Hurting again?” he asked.
She walked over and lay beside him on the bed. Her silk gown tangled with their thighs.
Kevan drew her close, began massaging her forehead. “Sweetheart, I want your promise to forget about Paragon. I don’t know who set us up, or why, but it’s not important anymore. You’ve got to accept that we’ll probably never know.”
“But—”
“I want your promise,” he said firmly. “You’re driving yourself crazy with this, honey.”
“I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make sense. No one goes through that kind of trouble without a reason. Somebody, somewhere, wanted us on that boat—and on that island. I want to know who and why.”
