Читать книгу The Heart Beneath - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 8

December 31

1600

“Oh, Morgan, this is such an unexpected and beautiful New Year’s gift!” Laura Trayhern whirled around in the sumptuous suite of the Hoyt Hotel. She smiled at her husband who was grinning proudly. “I never expected this!” she exclaimed as she flew to his arms. They had just arrived at the hotel from Los Angeles International Airport. The lavish suite was a surprise—as was Morgan’s plan for them to spend New Year’s Eve there, just the two of them.

Morgan swept his pretty blond wife into his arms, almost dwarfing her petite form. The childlike expression of joy on her face made his heart sing. As she brushed his neck, cheek and finally his mouth with quick, wet kisses, he picked her up and twirled her around. Then, when his masterful Fred Astaire dance routine had made him dizzy, he placed her feet on the thick, white carpet, and murmured, “Happy New Year, darling. I wanted this to be a surprise for you….”

Smoothing her hands over her ankle-length, blue wool skirt, then straightening her pink blazer, Laura looked around. “The Hoyt…a five-star hotel! It’s so old and beautiful, Morgan. Oh, I’ve always wanted to come here. This is where the Hollywood elite from the thirties and forties came to party and be seen by the press. Why, there’s a gorgeous mahogany bar, trimmed with brass, where actors like Clark Gable came to drink. And so did some of the most famous writers from those eras, too!” She gazed up at her husband, who was dressed casually in accordance with California fashion in a bright-red polo shirt, dark-blue blazer and tan chino pants. “This is a dream come true, Morgan,” she said, wandering about the suite, which was the best the hotel had to offer.

Laura knew the Sun King’s suite, situated at the top of the old hotel, was expensive with its elegant white-and-gold Louis XIV furniture. The place looked like a palace. Gliding her fingertips across the sideboy, she gazed out through the open curtains. The Suite faced toward central Los Angeles, visible in the distance. The lurid brownish cloud of pollution that always hung across the wide basin was clearly visible. But the damask curtains, burgundy embossed with gold flowers, made the scene look like a postcard to Laura.

Fourteen stories below them, she saw the old, stately palm trees in front of the Hoyt moving in the breeze. The trees lined the broad avenue in front of the pink hotel like guardians standing at rigid attention. California was wonderfully warm compared to their icy-cold home in Philipsburg, Montana, where they’d just flown in from. Even at the end of December the temperature often reached eighty degrees here.

She felt Morgan come up beside her and slide his arm around her shoulders, drawing her near.

“Merry post Christmas,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to her mussed gold hair, which always reminded him of Rapunzel’s spun-gold tresses. When Laura lifted her chin and flashed him another excited smile, he felt his heart expand with joy.

“I couldn’t believe it, Morgan! When you handed me that red envelope at the Five Days of Christmas celebration we just held for everyone at Perseus, I had no idea it would contain airline tickets and a voucher for the Hoyt.” She sighed happily and leaned against him, her arm going around his strong body. “What a gift! You know how long I’ve been dying to come here and snoop around this historic mansion, doing some in-depth research.”

Morgan nodded. “I know we’ve been busy. Perseus has taken up a lot more of my time than I envisioned,” he said, referring to the covert team of mercenaries he headed up. Now, as he looked into his wife’s eyes, he found himself drowning in her dancing gaze. Even after all these years, bearing and raising his four children, she managed to retain her childlike enthusiasm and joyful heart. That ability forever astounded him, and over the years had helped heal him from the many massive wounds he’d carried from active service in the Marine Corps during the closing days of the Vietnam War.

When they met, Laura had been working as a research writer and historian, well known for her military articles, and living in Washington, D.C. They had literally run into one another.

Morgan had been at the airport and seen Laura struck down by a car. It was that accident that had brought them together, and changed their lives forever. Over the years, they had had difficult times, but their love for one another had only been strengthened as a result. Even after that terrifying time, when he, Laura, and their oldest son, Jason, had been kidnapped in an act of revenge by drug lords, Laura had emerged with her spirit in tatters, but still intact. It was a miracle, Morgan realized, because his wife had suffered horribly at the hands of their captors. The kidnapping had stolen a piece of her soul, but she battled back from the ordeal with the help of his unquenchable love and support.

Morgan knew well her penchant for research and for history. And since the Hoyt was one of the last of the elite, Gothic-style hotels built in Hollywood during the twenties, he knew she’d get a kick out of staying there. For a long time she had been wanting to depart from the military articles she still wrote upon occasion, even though she was a full-time mother, to do in-depth research on some magnificent landmarks from a bygone era.

“Well, we’re going to mix business with pleasure,” he told her. When he saw the crestfallen look on her face, he quickly added, “More pleasure and less business.”

“Let me guess,” she said impishly, turning and leaning fully against him, her arms around his waist. “Camp Reed, the major Marine Corps base in Southern California, is only a stone’s throw from here—about twenty miles or so. And you’re probably going to nose around over there, right? Talk to the general at the base because you’ve had some of his Marine Recon detachments or individual marines assigned to Perseus black ops missions?”

“Yep.” Morgan breathed in, inhaling the lilac fragrance of her hair. “I have two appointments before we party in the New Year. First I’m going to see General Jeb Wilson on January first.”

“He’s the commanding officer of Camp Reed?”

“Yeah. More a courtesy call than anything, darling. To thank him for all his help, loaning his people out to us over the past year.”

“And you’re not going to be cooking up new missions with him?” Laura raised one eyebrow. She knew Morgan didn’t waste time; he made the most of every trip he went on. And Lord knew, he was constantly flying here and there on the Perseus jet—checking on his mercenaries who, around the world, were involved in life-and-death missions, helping others.

Shaking his head, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Nope, for once we’ll just have a drink over at the O Club—officer’s club—and remember old times. I’ll wish him a belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.”

“Okay,” she murmured petulantly, pouting provocatively as she moved her hips suggestively against him. “I know there’s a New Year’s party at the hotel tonight and I don’t want to go to it alone.” She saw his eyes narrow, and slowly smiled. “In the meantime I guess I’ll keep myself busy by talking to the manager of this lovely old hotel, snooping around and taking photos. Maybe I can start building a research file on it. I’ve already got a major magazine that wants my article. Or maybe I’ll just relax a bit. Take a hot bath…”

“Hmm, you make it tough to think about leaving,” Morgan said.

Her mouth drew into a knowing smile. “I sure hope so, Morgan Trayhern. Because after having fifty houseguests milling around during our Five Days of Christmas extravaganza, I think we deserve some quality downtime together. Don’t you?”

Sliding his fingers through her mussed gold hair, he murmured, “Absolutely…” Laura made it tough for him to think when she started that sweet, loving assault upon him. She knew what took his mind off business—her. The years of marriage hadn’t lessened his love or need of her, it had only increased his desire.

“Good, we’ll be partying tonight and will ring in the New Year together. You mentioned you had two appointments. What else are you planning while we’re out here for the next five days?”

Having the good grace to blush, Morgan felt the heat creep into his cheeks as his wife gave him that knowing look. “I can’t keep anything from you at all, can I? I have a very brief meeting to attend here at the hotel, after I get back from Camp Reed.”

Chuckling, Laura eased out of his arms. She knew that Morgan had other demands and duties. She wouldn’t cause him to be late for his appointments, but she did want to know his plans. “No, darling, you can’t. So—” she stood by the window, stroking the thick burgundy drape hanging there “—what else do you have to do?”

Rubbing his jaw, Morgan said, “I see Jeb on New Year’s Day at 1300. He’s sending a Huey helicopter over to the landing pad in back of the hotel to pick me up. We’re planning on spending about an hour together, and then they’ll drop me back here.”

“VIP, red-carpet service,” Laura murmured, impressed. Of course, Morgan had complete access to all military branches, as well as to the highest office in the land, the presidency, if he needed it in order to pull off a mission. Because of Perseus’s success in solving problems globally where governments had failed, Morgan was a military heavyweight in a world that usually closed its doors to civilian outsiders. He was a megastar in some of the most powerful political circles, like a Hollywood actor on the A list. Still, Morgan never threw his weight around, and had always been humble about the power he wielded. Laura loved him for that. He ran Perseus to help people in need around the world, when authorities in those countries were unable to. And many times, the federal government used Perseus as a covert branch of the CIA. Consequently, Morgan was known by presidents and heads of states around the world, but not by the general public or media. Few people knew Perseus existed, which was fine with her.

“Well,” Morgan said, “I managed to get hold of one of my old friends from Vietnam days—Darrel Cummings, a fellow officer I’d gone through school with. He’s the head of a Silicon Valley computer company now, doing software work for the Pentagon and the army. I called him before we left, and I’m going to have a quick drink with him down in the bar about 2100 tonight. After I take my beautiful wife to the Jungle Room of this hotel for a very intimate and expensive dinner. Once I meet with Darrel, I’ll come up here, get you, and we’ll go find that party, which starts at around 2200. Does that meet with your approval?”

Laughing softly, Laura nodded. “Perfectly.” She returned Morgan’s dark, intimate look before he clasped her arm and walked into the main room with her. On the table was a massive bouquet of Hawaiian flowers freshly flown in from the islands. There were red and pink ginger, wild-looking purple-and-orange bird-of-paradise, white blossoms of plumaria, whose fragrance drifted through the suite, and red lobster-claw heliconia at the top. It was a rainbow feast of color for the eyes, Laura decided, as she watched Morgan move to the solid silver champagne bucket and pull a dark-green bottle from the ice.

There were two crystal champagne flutes on the table, and she stepped closer as he uncorked the bottle and slowly poured golden bubbly into each glass. La-lique crystal, she noted, admiring how the base of each glass was shaped like the rounded petals of a flower.

“Here, to celebrate your Hoyt adventure and our New Year together,” Morgan murmured, as he put the champagne bottle back into the ice bucket. Picking up both glasses, he handed one to Laura. “Let’s drink to your great writing project here. I’m sure when the manager lets you into the archives in the basement, you’ll dig up dirt on every Hollywood star that ever came here.” He chuckled and lifted his glass. Clinking it gently against hers, he saw Laura smile wickedly.

“Now, darling, I don’t ‘dig dirt’ on anyone. I’m just interested in some of the wonderful old myths and legends that have drifted out of this hotel. I want to see if they’re really true or not.” She lifted her glass and sipped the champagne. It tasted more like a bubbly fruit juice than wine, and was sweet and delicious as she rolled it around on her tongue.

Morgan had gotten her favorite champagne—from a very small vineyard, Echo Canyon, in Page Springs, Arizona. They knew the owner, John Logan, an attorney who had worked for the federal government at one time. Morgan had brought home some of his wine over a year ago, and Laura had gone bonkers over it. She’d never before tasted such a wonderful Syrah burgundy, or the sparking champagne he’d hand-grown on sixteen acres out in the high desert, near Sedona. Morgan had made sure he had a crate of John’s best flown in for their Five Days of Christmas celebration this year. Laura’s favorite, however, was this incredible-tasting champagne. She closed her eyes, made a humming sound of pleasure and smiled.

“This has to be John’s best year,” she murmured as she opened her eyes and held the glass up, viewing it with a critical eye. “His wine gets better with every season.”

Morgan chuckled. He didn’t have such a sensitive or appreciative pallet for champagne or wine. “John said this was his best champagne since he’s opened the vineyard ten years ago. He sent us two bottles here, to the Hoyt, as a New Year’s gift.”

“Wonderful,” Laura said, sipping the champagne with enthusiasm. “John’s wine goes for hundreds of dollars a bottle. I feel so lucky!”

As he stood near the huge Hawaiian flower arrangement, watching Laura appreciate every sip of her favorite champagne, Morgan’s heart nearly burst with happiness. His wife deserved something special like this, and he didn’t give it to her often enough. His work kept him on the move twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Although his offices were only three miles from their home, he often was so immersed in work he didn’t see her much during the day. As a result, she had borne the brunt of raising their four children.

He tried to come home for lunch every day to be with her and the children. Their oldest, Jason, was now at Annapolis, the U.S. Naval Academy. Katy was seventeen and getting ready to leave for college next year. The fraternal twins, Peter and Kelly were now twelve, a wonderful age, and Morgan was trying to be home with them more often.

He frowned, knowing he’d been working too much. Jason and Katherine especially had grown up without him being there much of the time. He’d been a shadow father in their lives. Because of the mounting problems with Jason, who didn’t have an easy time of it at school, and Katherine’s distance from him, Morgan was trying to correct that problem. Laura was much happier that he was taking weekends off, and sending his second-in-command, Mike Houston, around the world on many Perseus missions in his place. The twins, at least, were much happier and well adjusted as a result.

Guilt ate at Morgan as he stood there sipping champagne with Laura. Nothing mattered more to him than his family. They were a close, tight-knit family. Silently, he promised Laura that he would continue to be there for their children and for her. His life wasn’t all about military objectives and missions. He realized now it was about being around for his family, supporting Laura and helping her to raise their kids.

Laura eased her sensible black shoes off her feet and dug her nylon-clad toes into the plush carpet. Turning, she walked back to the window. The sun was setting.

“Look at the strange color of this sunset, Morgan. Have you ever seen anything like it?” she asked, turning as he came up behind her.

Morgan stared out the huge window toward central Los Angeles, at the needlelike buildings that seemed to be clawing the sky. “Hmm. No, it looks yellow-green, or a dirty yellow color. It is unusual…”

Wrinkling her nose as she sipped the wine, Laura leaned once more against Morgan’s tall, steady frame. His arm came around her waist to keep her solidly in place. “Dirty yellow is a good description. It really is a strange, rather ugly color. We’ve been out to California many times in the past and I can never remember the sky looking like this.” A chill went through her. She felt Morgan’s arm tighten around her reassuringly.

“Cold?” he murmured near her ear.

Shaking her head, she said, “No…just, well, a strange chill just shot through me.” Twisting to look up at him, she said, “Isn’t that odd? Here we are at the top of the world, literally speaking, in a terribly expensive penthouse suite, drinking some of the best champagne on the face of the earth, and I get this awful feeling….”

“About what?” Morgan knew Laura was highly intuitive. With the children, she’d often get a premonition when one of them was in some kind of danger, and it always turned out that she was correct. Morgan didn’t take Laura’s intuition lightly. Frowning, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I…don’t know, Morgan. Boy, this is strange, you know?” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Maybe we should call home and check with the baby-sitter to see if the twins are okay.”

Releasing her, he nodded. “Sure, go ahead….” And he stepped aside so she could go to the flowery couch and sit down near the ornate, antique-style phone there.

Turning to gaze out at the lurid yellow sunset, he listened as Laura dialed home. The cloud of pollution hung like a dirty brown ribbon across the sky. Stretching for a good fifty miles from north to south and roughly thirty miles from east to west, the Los Angeles basin contained millions of people. This was one of the most congested, overpopulated spots in the U.S.A. Everyone wanted California sunshine, the good life, and perfect weather conditions without snow or ice. Morgan couldn’t blame any of them for moving out here, for the Los Angeles area was a powerful draw. And having Hollywood here was just another plus. Disneyland was nearby, and so was Knotsberry Farm. Los Angeles, the City of Angels, had many attractions that drew families.

As he listened to Laura talking to their baby-sitter, Julie Kingston, he didn’t hear any consternation or worry in her voice. Sipping the champagne as he stood there, Morgan slid his free hand into the pocket of his chinos. The sky was a deepening yellow now, one of the oddest colors he’d ever seen. Searching his memory, he could not find a clue to this unusual meteorological event.

“Well,” Laura sighed as she came back to stand with him, “everyone’s okay, thank goodness. Julie said the twins are fine.”

Morgan glanced at her and saw the relief in her eyes. Laura loved her children with the fierceness of a lioness and she was a wonderful mother to them.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I want you to enjoy the vacation.” Pulling his hand from his pocket, he slid his arm across Laura’s slim, proud shoulders and drew her close. She came without resistance, that soft look in her blue eyes once again, replacing the worry.

“Oh, you know me, Morgan. I’m such a worrywart when it comes to the kids. That’s part of being a parent. You and I both know that.”

Nodding, he stood with his wife in his arms, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. “I know,” he whispered huskily, and placed a kiss on her silky hair. “Maybe when we go to dinner tonight, our waitress might know what this dirty yellow sky means.”

Laughter burbled up in Laura’s throat. “Oh, let’s not ask! She’ll probably think we’re backwoods hicks from Montana, and get a good laugh out of it. Let’s not embarrass ourselves that way, okay?”

Smiling good-naturedly, Morgan murmured, “Fair enough, woman of my heart. Now, let’s enjoy the rest of this bottle, laze around a little and enjoy life one minute at a time with one another.”

A glint came to Laura’s eyes as she met her husband’s warm gray gaze, which burned with desire for her. Her lips parted in an elfin smile. “I’d love to take that champagne bottle over to the huge, four-poster Louis XIV bed, lie beneath that incredible burgundy-and-gold canopy, and enjoy it with you.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I like your idea, Mrs. Trayhern. You’re forever creative about such things…”

Giggling, Laura felt the chill and worry leave her. Slipping out from beneath Morgan’s arm, she skipped across the room and slid the champagne from the silver bucket. Bottle in hand, she moved to the king-size bed and leaped onto it like a gleeful child, her laughter tinkling.

“I have a few more creative ideas we can explore together,” she challenged wickedly.