Читать книгу Dream Wedding - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

“THERE IS a perfectly logical explanation,” Chloe told herself as she exited the freeway and headed for the university. “Things like this happen all the time. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m not going insane.”

She braked at the stop sign and shifted her car into neutral. Her mouth curved up into a smile. “The fact that I’m talking to myself is not an indication of mental imbalance. I’ve always talked to myself. The trick is to not answer. At least not out loud.”

The intersection cleared. She shifted into first and accelerated. Okay, so she was still feeling very strange about the dream she’d had two nights ago. Being exhausted didn’t help. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all the previous night, what with trying to make sense of everything. Obviously she’d seen Arizona’s picture somewhere in the past, and his image had been lodged in her subconscious. It happened all the time. Cassie had been talking about the nightgown legend for weeks before Chloe’s twenty-fifth birthday. The combination of life pressures, family-legend expectations and Lord knew what else had created a very real dream. But it was only a dream.

The fact that Arizona had invaded her life the next day was merely coincidence. The world was full of them.

“I’m going to be fine,” she said aloud. “This article is a great opportunity for me. I’m going to turn in a dynamite project, impress the socks off my editor and write my way into a job with a big New York publisher.”

She drew in a deep breath. The spring air was warm, the sun bright, the sky clear. At the next stop sign Chloe glanced around at the budding trees and green lawns that marked the outskirts of the university campus. For the first time in months she had the top down on her little sports car. The wind ruffled her hair and made her want to laugh. She would get through all this. She’d always been a survivor. If nothing else, she would keep reminding herself that Arizona Smith was just a man. Okay, he was very good-looking and the sight of him made her heart race. And maybe when they’d shaken hands yesterday she had felt a slight electrical charge, not to mention the fact that she didn’t even have to close her eyes to picture him naked, next to her, on top of her, touching her everywhere as he—

“Stop it!” she commanded herself. “Don’t go there. It’s way too dangerous territory. Keep it light, keep it professional.”

With that she turned into the parking lot by the exhibition hall. She found a parking spot by the main walkway and put up the top on her convertible. She’d barely finished collecting her leather briefcase when a black four-wheel-drive Ford Explorer pulled into the spot next to her. As she stepped out of her convertible, she had the feeling her car looked like a gnat buzzing beside an elephant. Then the tiny hairs on the back of her neck all stood up and a shiver raced down her spine. She couldn’t think about cars or even breathing because she knew. He was there.

Sure enough, a tall, handsome guy climbed down from the driver’s seat and circled around the front of the Explorer. Arizona wore khakis and a long-sleeved dark green shirt. His hair needed a trim, his boots were scuffed, and none of that mattered because there was a glint in his green eyes that made her wonder if the devil was half so appealing as this man standing in front of her.

“Morning,” he said. “I thought I saw you zipping by me on the freeway. You were talking to yourself.”

Chloe tightened her grip on her briefcase, then faked a casual chuckle. “Dictating, actually. I’m a journalist. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I see.” His gaze traveled leisurely over her body. The attention was as tangible as a blast of hot air. She found herself wanting to move close and rub up against him, just to make the moment complete. Before she could make a total fool of herself, he turned his attention to her car.

“Nice,” he said, pointing at the silver BMW Z3 convertible. “You ever pretend you’re James Bond?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. She’d heard the question before. Yes, the car had been featured in Pierce Brosnan’s first film as James Bond, but that wasn’t why she’d bought it. Some of her trust money had become available a couple of years before, she’d needed a new car and she’d always wanted a convertible. She’d bought the car on a whim and had never regretted it even once.

But she wasn’t about to explain that to Arizona. She was in a lot of danger with this man. He was the subject of a story she intended to write, so she had to get the upper hand. His respect for her professional abilities was required. But she had a feeling he wouldn’t care about her years of study or how many articles she’d written. He exuded power the way flowers exuded scent. He would respect someone who gave as good as they got. She was having enough trouble trying to forget about the dream and ignoring her unexplained attraction to him. She refused to let him best her in a game of wits.

She made a great show of glancing around the parking lot. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Dr. Smith, but Bradley is firmly located in an area referred to as the Sacramento delta. This part of California is completely flat. So unless you plan on scaling a building or two, this four-wheel-drive monstrosity you’ve rented seems a great deal like overkill to me.” She kicked the closest monster tire and smiled. “Of course, you’re the expert in archaeology. Perhaps there’s something I should know to explain this.”

Their gazes locked. Chloe didn’t dare back down. Better to have gone too far than not far enough, she told herself.

A slow smile pulled at his mouth. His eyes brightened with humor. “Yeah, yeah. You called me on that one. I couldn’t help it. I hate little cars.” He took her arm and led her toward the exhibit hall. “Let’s get one thing straight. I prefer Arizona to Dr. Smith, okay? Let’s keep things informal.”

The victory was sweet, although not enough for her to ignore the tingling in her arm or the way her heart fluttered in her chest. “Works for me. I want you to feel comfortable.”

He looked at her. “I do. I feel very comfortable.”

If they ever made love, they would be in danger of experiencing spontaneous combustion.

She didn’t know where the thought had come from, but she knew it was true. Dear Lord, the man turned her on. But she couldn’t let him know.

“Good. Then you won’t mind answering all my questions.”

They’d reached the building. Arizona held the door open for her. “Not at all. We can talk about anything you’d like.”

The hallway was dim and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. They stood facing each other. “I have a whole list of things I want to ask you.”

“I think I’d rather talk about you.”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Chloe’s body screamed a gratified “Yes!” when she finally absorbed the meaning of his statement. Her brain resisted. Was this teasing or testing? She didn’t allow herself to think it might be an invitation. He couldn’t possibly know about the dream. Did the attraction go both ways? The thought both excited and terrified her.

“That’s not very subtle,” she told him, pleased that her voice was calm. Shrieking would have been so unattractive.

“I can be if that’s what you would prefer.”

“What would you prefer?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that question, but it was too late to call it back. Once the words were out, she really wanted to hear the answer.

The devastating smile returned. “I’d like to take you to an island in the South Pacific. Somewhere isolated and romantic.”

“I’m sure you have just the one in mind.”

“Of course. You’d like it. The indigenous population has a society based on a female deity. The social structure is matriarchal. In their eyes, men pretty much have one use.”

Chloe was grateful for the dimness of the foyer. She could feel herself flushing. Based on what she’d read about him, he was probably telling the truth about the island. Despite herself, she laughed.

“I should be insulted,” she told him.

“But you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” How could she be, when every cell of her being responded to him. Not just because he was good-looking. In fact, that was the least of his appeal. Much of what drew her was his energy. She felt like a cat seeking out the warmth of the sun. She wanted to bask in his glow.

“Don’t you have some gems you want to show me?” she asked in an effort to change the subject.

“Absolutely.” He led the way down the hall toward the exhibit hall.

She fell into step with him. “You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.

“So you’ve been doing your homework. Did you think I’d be more scholarly?”

“No, although I’m sure you’re the expert everyone claims. I guess I didn’t think you’d be just a regular guy. I try not to form too much of an impression of someone before I meet him. I don’t want to be writing the article in my head too early. But in your case, that was more difficult than usual. There’s a mythical element to your press clippings.”

“Tell me about it.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Despite the press trying to make it seem otherwise, I’m not Harrison Ford or Indiana Jones.” His mouth twisted. “I can’t tell you how many times those comparisons have been made.”

“How often do you come out ahead?”

“Good question.” His features relaxed a little. “We’re running about fifty-fifty. You wouldn’t believe the people who have trouble understanding that he’s an actor portraying a fictional character. What happens in the movies has very little to do with real life. But people have expectations.”

“You don’t want to disappoint them,” she said guessing.

“Of course not. But I’m not a larger-than-life character. Who can compete with a movie legend? This is real life. I don’t get a second take to make sure the line is said just right.”

“I would guess that the fans who most want you to be like Indiana Jones are the ladies,” she said.

He groaned. “They bring me hats like his. And whips.”

Chloe wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I see.”

He winked. “Of course some of them have been quite satisfied with reality.”

I certainly was.

She jumped. Had she said that or just thought it? Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her expectantly. Her heart, which had stumbled a couple of beats, resumed its steady thudding. She must have just thought it. Thank goodness. Arizona could never know about that night—or her dreams.

“Chloe, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

His statement didn’t make sense for a second. Then she realized she’d been quiet and he probably thought she’d been insulted by his comment. “It’s fine,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Seriously, there was a time when I enjoyed all the press and comparisons. I worked hard to live up to the hype.”

“A girl in every port?”

“Something like that.”

“What happened?”

“I grew up. It got old. I’ve learned that quality is the most important part of a relationship.”

That surprised her. “So you’re a romantic at heart?”

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Yes. But not the way you mean it. If you’re asking if I believe in love, the answer is no.”

That didn’t make sense. “You said you believe in magic.”

“Of course. One doesn’t have anything to do with the other. Magic exists. Love is the myth.”

“No way. I’ve never seen magic at work, but you only have to look around to know love is everywhere. Parents and their children, couples who have been together fifty years, kids with their pets. How can you deny all that evidence?”

He stepped toward the wide double doors that led to the exhibit. “It’s surprisingly easy,” he said, pulled a key from his pocket, turned the lock and pushed open the right door.

As she moved to step inside, she was instantly assaulted by cool air. The light was even more dim inside, with only an illuminated path to guide them. A shiver rippled up her spine, but this one was from nerves, not attraction. Chloe instinctively fingered the heart-shaped locket she wore around her neck.

“This way,” Arizona said with the confidence of someone who could see in the dark.

They’d taken about two steps when a voice stopped them. “You can’t come in here,” a man said. “The exhibit isn’t open yet.” Seconds later a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her.

“It’s okay, Martin,” Arizona said. “This is Chloe Wright. She’s a journalist. I brought her by to show her the exhibit.”

The light clicked off and a security guard stepped out of the shadows. “Oh, sorry, Dr. Smith. I didn’t know it was you.” The fiftysomething man smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, Martin, thanks.”

When they were alone again, Arizona motioned to the dark draperies on either side of the lit path. “The entrance is going to have blown-up photographs showing some of the ruins, that sort of thing. Robert Burton, a friend of mine, is composing appropriate music. Whatever the hell that means.”

Chloe chuckled with him. “Probably something with a South American flavor.”

“Probably.”

They continued down the walkway toward bright lights. Dark drapes gave way to glass cases exhibiting tools, bowls and animal hides fashioned into primitive clothing. Arizona briefly explained the significance of the items.

“I constantly offend my colleagues,” he admitted, not looking the least bit concerned by the fact. “I know I should be interested in this kind of thing.” He motioned to a row of cutting knives. “They are the basis for understanding how a people lived day by day. But I’m a true romantic. I find the living more interesting than the dead, even the long-dead, and I prefer magic to reality. I don’t care what they used to skin their kill. I want to know how they prepared for the hunt. I want to learn the rituals and hear the songs.” He shrugged. “As I’m frequently reminded, religion and magic have their place, but a good knife in the hands of a skilled hunter can keep a family alive for the winter.”

Chloe studied the honed cutting edges. “But religion feeds them as well—their souls rather than their bodies. That has to count for something.”

“Exactly.”

Arizona beamed at her as if she were a rather dull student who had finally come up with the right answer. She barely noticed, being too busy wondering where on earth that thought had come from. She was way too pragmatic to be concerned about the state of anyone’s soul.

“I’m glad you see my point,” he told her. “However, there are a few people I can’t seem to convince. They’re much more into the physical than the spiritual. We need to go through here.”

He led the way into a brightly lit alcove. There was a closed door at the far end. He knocked once. Another security guard stepped out. “Yes, Dr. Smith?”

“Jimmy, I made arrangements to show Ms. Wright the gem collection. You ready to unlock the cases for me?”

The guard, a young man of Chloe’s age, nodded seriously. “Yes, sir. Let me get the keys and disable the alarm.”

When he disappeared back into the room, Arizona winked at her. “Jimmy is in charge of the gems. He’s very proud of that. He’ll be accompanying us. With him around, we can unlock the cases and you can actually touch the stones.”

“I’d like that.” She stared at him. “How long have you been in town?”

“A couple of days. Why?”

“You seem to know everyone’s name. Or is that just a habit with security guards?”

“I told you. I’m interested in the living.”

Jimmy joined them, cutting off any further chance for conversation. He led the way to the last room. The walls were plain black. Tall glass cases formed a staggered line down the center. Spotlights illuminated their precious cargo.

Arizona nodded at the first case. “We’ll start at this end and work our way down.” As Jimmy unlocked the case, Arizona sighed heavily. “I found them, but do they trust me with them now?”

“Sorry, sir,” Jimmy said without cracking a smile. “I’m following the rules.”

Chloe moved close to the display. The door opened and Arizona reached inside to pick up a huge pink stone. It was the size of an orange, with an irregular shape. He held it with a reverence that made her nervous about taking it from him when he offered it to her.

“This will heal you,” he said. “Arthritis, stomach trouble, anything internal. I don’t think it would work on a broken bone, although I could be wrong. Some of the incantations were written down. We’ve found pieces on tablets and animal hides. The tribe is obscure. The language is tough. Not related to other Indian tribes in the area. I don’t have any of the incantations with me, so just think good thoughts while you hold it and hope for the best.”

She took the stone from him. It was heavier than it looked. The top was bumpy, but the bottom was smooth and fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. She studied the way the light glinted off the facets.

“They didn’t find the stone this way, did they?” she asked.

“No. It’s been cut. There are definite markings. That’s one of the mysteries. The tools we found aren’t strong enough or sharp enough to have done this, so how did it happen?”

She handed him back the stone. “Do you have a theory?”

“Of course. But you’re going to have to come to my lecture series to hear what it is.”

He put the stone back in the case, waited until Jimmy locked it, then moved to the next exhibit.

There were stunning gems used in religious ceremonies, more healing stones, some of undetermined purpose. Arizona talked about them all, as if they were well-loved friends. When they were at the last case, he removed a huge diamond nestled in a flower-shaped bed of gold. The object was so heavy, she had to use both hands to hold it.

“Close your eyes,” Arizona instructed. “Focus on the stone.”

Chloe did as he requested. Instantly, the diamond began to glow. She frowned. That was impossible. For one thing, she had her eyes closed. How could she know if something was glowing or not? For another, she didn’t believe in the mystical. But she could feel the heat and would have sworn she saw the light.

“This is a loving stone,” he said. “It would have been used in ancient weddings to bind a couple together.”

Instantly she could see the cave, the two of them entwined on their bed of straw. Which was crazy, right?

As the image filled her brain, the stone definitely brightened. Chloe stiffened and opened her eyes. She stared at the diamond. Nothing about it had changed. It wasn’t glowing at all, and now that she was paying attention, there really wasn’t any heat.

Arizona took the stone from her and returned it to Jimmy. After thanking the guard, he led her out of the exhibit hall. There was a small garden behind the building. Stone benches surrounded an inverted fountain.

Still confused by what had happened, she settled on one of the benches. He took a seat next to her.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“It’s very impressive. I can see why you enjoy your work and why you have such a following. You’ve brought a great find to national attention.”

He dismissed the compliment with a wave. “I haven’t done anything that special. I followed a few clues, refused to give up when other people did, but I’m no hero. There are a lot of great scholars out there. I’m just some guy interested in pretty rocks and religious icons.”

“You’re selling yourself a little short, aren’t you?”

“Not really. When I met Joseph Campbell I was so impressed, I couldn’t talk. He was my idol. I don’t say that lightly. I’ve met many impressive people, but he was the best.”

Interesting. She made a mental note. That information could add some depth and human interest to her story. “Are there any important people you haven’t met yet who intrigue you?”

His smile was slow and lazy. It should have warned her. He relaxed back in the bench. “Yesterday I would have said yes, because until yesterday I hadn’t met you.”

It was a line, she reminded herself. But it was a good one. “Not bad.”

His smile didn’t fade, but something dark and dangerous crept into his expression. “I wasn’t kidding, Chloe. I know you felt it, too. The energy when you were holding the diamond. Did the stone glow when you closed your eyes? That’s supposed to be significant.”

She tried swallowing, but her throat was too tight. When coughing didn’t clear it, she decided to ignore both the sensation and the question. She opened her briefcase and pulled out a small handheld tape recorder.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” she said.

He eyed the machine. “Obviously we’re on the record.”

“We have been all morning.”

His gaze sharpened. “Really? That surprises me.” He crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. “Ask away.”

The sun was warm, but the heat filling her body came from the inside. There was something about him, about his relaxed posture. She angled away from him, but even so, the bench was suddenly too small. She felt confined and much too close. She could inhale the masculine scent of his body. Her mind didn’t want to focus on questions or interview techniques. She wanted to move closer still; she wanted to run away.

Neither possibility was wise, she reminded herself, so she dug out a list of questions she’d prepared the previous night when she couldn’t sleep.

“You traveled with your grandfather for most of your formative years,” she said.

“That’s right. He showed up one day when I was about three or so, and took me with him. One of my first memories is riding a yak somewhere in Tibet.” He stretched out his arms along the back of the bench. His strong tanned fingers lay within inches of her shoulder and she tried not to notice.

“Grandfather traveled in style,” he continued. “At heart, he was an adventurer. Fortunately the family had money, so he was able to go where and when he wanted. He’d run guns into Africa before the Second World War. He knew heads of state, from Nixon to obscure tribal elders in kingdoms the size of a grocery store. He would decide to spend a summer somewhere or maybe a winter, but we never stayed longer than a few months. Grandfather loved to be moving on.”

Chloe knew this from her research. “He arranged for tutors?”

Arizona nodded. “Sometimes several at once. I studied for hours every day. When I was fourteen, he put me in university, Oxford, then I moved to Egypt for a year or so. India, South Africa. I have an assortment of degrees.” He grinned. “None of them practical.”

“Are you an adventurer, too?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’ve tried to be more methodical, to use what I know to discover the past. Grandfather wanted to travel for the sake of being gone. I want to accomplish something.”

She looked at him. From where she was sitting, he looked like a fairly normal guy. Perhaps he was a little too good-looking, but otherwise, he seemed to be much like the rest of the world.

“You’re staring,” he said. “Is there a reason?”

She shook her head. “You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever known. My family is one of the founding families of this town. My mother’s maiden name is Bradley. The Victorian house has been ours for generations. I’ve traveled some, but not like you. Bradleys have been in this valley for more than a hundred years.”

He shrugged. “Roots aren’t a bad thing.”

“I know. I’m not unhappy with my life. I’m just wondering what it would be like to have lived yours.” She tried to imagine always moving around, never knowing where one was going next. The thought wasn’t pleasant.

She remembered the running tape and the fact that this was supposed to be an interview. “Okay, next question. I know your mother died shortly after you were born. When did your father pass away?”

If she hadn’t been studying him so closely, she wouldn’t have noticed the subtle stiffening of his body. “My father is alive and well. At least he was the last time he called me.”

“But you grew up with your grandfather. He took you away when you were three.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you stay with your father?”

“It just worked out that way.”

The journalist in her jumped onto the detail. Questions sprang to mind. Had there been a problem? An estrangement? Some legal issues? Why had Arizona’s father let his only child be taken from him and subjected to such an odd upbringing?

“You’re going to pursue this line of questioning, aren’t you?” Arizona sounded more weary than annoyed.

“Yes. I’m figuring out which way to go.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he raised his head to the sun. “It’s warmer than I thought it would be,” he said.

“We’re about ten degrees above normal for this time of year.”

“I should have dressed for it.” He reached for his right cuff and undid the button.

All the questions and strategies about how best to handle the interview fled from her mind. The entire world disappeared as she focused her attention on those long fingers and his casual act.

He finished rolling up the right sleeve and started on the left. She knew what she was going to see there. Despite the fact that she’d only met the man yesterday and that he’d been wearing long sleeves then, too. Despite the fact that none of the photos in her research files showed him in anything but long sleeves. She knew about the scar because she’d seen the man naked in her dreams.

That wasn’t real, she reminded herself. It hadn’t really happened. So when he rolled up the sleeve, there wasn’t going to be a knife scar on the inside of his left forearm. Except she knew that was exactly what she was going to see.

She stopped breathing.

He made one fold of the fabric, then another. The tail of the scar came into view. She told herself this wasn’t really happening, except it was and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

He caught her stare. “It’s not so bad,” he said, motioning to the scar. “Want to hear how it happened?”

“I can’t,” she said, her voice tight. “I can’t. I have to—” She couldn’t think of a real excuse so she didn’t bother making one. Instead she gathered up her notes and her tape recorder and thrust both into her briefcase.

It was too much to take in. The dream and the man and the fact that she’d known what the scar looked like before she’d even seen it.

“I’ll be in touch,” she managed as she scrambled to her feet and headed for the parking lot.

“Chloe? Is something wrong?”

She held him off with a wave. As soon as she was on the far side of the garden, she began to run. It was only when she tried to fit her key in the lock that she realized she was blinded by tears she could neither explain nor understand. What on earth was happening to her?