asleep. Finally.” Lacey came into the room. “So…did you make the call?”
“Yeah.”
“You talked to Felicity?”
“No.”
“Did you leave a message on her answering machine?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you just ask her to call you back when she gets home—”
“She’s home.”
“She’s screening her calls? How can you know that?”
“No, she’s not screening her calls. She picked up the phone.”
“I don’t underst—oh.” Lacey slid her hip onto the edge of the desk, and sent him a disappointed reproachful look. “You didn’t have the courage to—”
“It had nothing to do with courage, dammit.” He pushed to his feet and planting his fists on his hips he glowered at his sister. “It had to do with—”
“Bitterness.” Lacey gave a sympathetic nod. “Jordan, we’ve been over this ground before. OK, you feel bitter. But you’re letting your emotions get in the way of what’s best for your daughter. Mandy loved Felicity Fairfax, and it’s my belief that she’s missing her dreadfully and that’s why she’s so difficult to handle. She’s letting you—and everybody else!—know that she hates the way things are now and she wants to get back to her old routine, where she felt safe, and loved, and happy. Jordan—”
Lacey’s beeper went, and she exhaled a weary breath. “Honey, I have to go. I have a plane to catch tonight. Will you promise me you’ll phone again…and talk to her this time? I do realize there’s a possibility she may not even want to take on the job. She may blame Marla for what happened to her brother, and may feel as bitterly toward the Maxwell family as you do toward hers!”
“So what you’re saying now is that I should call and plead with her to look after Mandy again and risk having her spit the suggestion back in my face?”
“That’s a chance you’ll have to take.”
He walked Lacey to the front door. The night was clear and bright, and from this location high on the slopes of West Vancouver, he could see the city lights spread out ahead like an endless field of stars…
Heaven upside down.
Lacey put her arms around him and gave him an encouraging hug. “Do it, Jordan. For Mandy’s sake.”
Felicity continued packing till well after midnight then decided to call a halt. After dragging the boxes she’d packed through to the utility room next to the kitchen, she let RJ outside for a quick prowl and then got ready for bed.
She’d just put on a T-shirt nightie, braided her hair, and slathered her face with white cleansing cream, when through the bathroom window she heard RJ yowling to get in.
She hurried to open the back door before he disturbed the neighbours.
“Come in, you handsome beast—” Her breath froze in her throat. RJ shot past her while she stood rooted to the spot and stared, startled out of her wits, at sight of a man standing on her doorstep. With the moon at his back, his face was in shadow, but his hair was dark and his eyes glittered as they fixed on her.
“If that’s the way,” he drawled, “that you welcome strangers in the night, I’ve come to the wrong place.”
What did he mean?
Uh-oh. Come in, you handsome beast.
Feeling like a fool, she nevertheless felt her fright dissipate. If he’d meant to harm her, surely he’d have grabbed her by now. Still, she stepped quickly back and pulled the door till it was almost closed, and peered at him through the narrow gap left.
“What can I do for you?” she asked. “Are you lost?”
His chuckle had a harsh quality. “No, I’m not lost,” he said. “At least, not in the way you mean.”
“What do you want then?”
“I want to talk to you.”
Felicity frowned. “Who are you?”
Impatiently, he looked around, and as he did, his profile was outlined against the bright backdrop of the moonlit sky. A sharply cut profile, with a swathe of dark hair falling over his brow, a strong nose, an uncompromising chin.
Fantastic bone structure. The kind that artists would adore. And women, too…
Felicity blinked the thought away.
“I’m going to close the door right now,” she said, “If you don’t tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
He turned and faced her. Just then, the people upstairs put on their bedroom light, and the yellow rays shone down on this stranger, illuminating him.
He was a handsome beast, Felicity thought. Handsome—and hostile. Oh, yes, no doubt about it…hostile.
“I’m Jordan Maxwell.” The words came out as jarringly as a jackhammer on granite. “And what I want to talk to you about is not something I wish to discuss out here.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and lanced her with his glittering gaze. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
He had expected someone who looked older. More solid. More mature.
Not this slip of a thing in an old T-shirt nightie, with her hair in a braid and her eyes filled with apprehension.
When she’d invited him in, it had been with an unsure gesture of her hand. The only words she’d spoken since had been to ask him if he wanted a drink.
He’d have liked a Scotch; she offered tea.
While the kettle was boiling, she’d left the room. When she came back, her face was scrubbed clean and she’d put on a gray cotton shortie robe and a pair of thongs.
So here they were, sitting at her kitchen table, drinking tea that tasted like cranberries.
And still she hadn’t said a word.
She looked down at the table as she sipped her tea, so he had an opportunity to scrutinize her further. She didn’t resemble her brother. She was fair, he’d been dark. She was slim as a reed, he’d been ruggedly built…and had looked mature. But he’d been anything but. He’d been irresponsible and wild and spendthrift. Just like Marla.
They had been a pair.
He felt anger rise inside him as it did so readily these days. But he controlled it.
“I’m here about Mandy.” He shoved aside his half-empty mug. “I want to ask—” He broke off as his glance moved beyond her to another room. A utility room. He could see packing boxes there, all neatly taped up. At the same time, he belatedly realized the kitchen had an echoing feel to it. And the walls were bare, many of the shelves
