By Private Invitation (10 page)

“Well, who is this woman?” Beatrice demanded. “I want to meet her.”

Jared couldn’t sit still any longer so he moved to the kitchenette in his grandmother’s
suite for a Coke. His grandmother didn’t drink coffee and Jared would kill for a whole
pot right now.

“I’m not quite sure how to contact her.” He hated lying to his grandmother. He popped
the top on the can and chugged half of it. “But she gave me the pin, and I’m returning
it to you. I thought you’d be thrilled.”

Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know where she found it?”

“She told me her grandfather found it at a flea market.”

“Really? A flea market? Did you ask her if there were any other pieces?”

He shook his head and turned to set his soda can on the table to avoid meeting her
gaze. “I honestly didn’t think about that, Nana.”

“So,” Beatrice said slowly, “you’re telling me you told her that this pin had been
stolen almost forty years ago, was rightfully mine, and she simply gave it to you?”

With nothing to do but grin and bear it, Jared looked her straight in the eyes. “Yeah.
Amazing, huh?”

His grandmother paused, staring back at him. “Yes, a little too amazing.” Beatrice
shook her head as she held the pin out to him, her mouth a straight, flat line. “This
pin is no longer mine, Jared.
You have to give it back to the woman you took it from. Then you have to beg her to
forgive you for being a complete jackass. I know you. You’re hiding something, something
that wouldn’t reflect kindly on you. How
exactly
did you tell her the pin was stolen?”

Yes, his grandmother knew him too well.

He sighed but didn’t reach for the pin. “I didn’t actually tell her. She overheard
a conversation I had with Tyler that she…misinterpreted. And”—he pushed forward before
his grandmother could say whatever she’d opened her mouth to say—“I am planning to
apologize. But I’m sure she’d want you to have the pin. Of course I’ll compensate
her—”

Beatrice cut him off with a sharp hand motion. “You will do no such thing. You will
take this pin back to her. You will apologize for whatever you did and you will find
a way to make it up to her.” Shaking her head, Beatrice sighed and her shoulders sagged.
“Didn’t you listen to anything I’ve said about the legend in all these years? Jared,
you may have thrown away your one chance at true love.”

Silence filled the room as that four-letter word floated in the air.

Love.

She didn’t really believe that. Did she? Jared stared at his grandmother, trying to
figure out when she was going to laugh, to tell him she was joking.

But hadn’t there been something there, some spark with Annabelle that you’ve never
felt with another woman?

Chemistry, yes. Amazing chemistry. But love?

No.

They’d had a good time last night. Yes, he’d fucked up by not closing the door tightly
enough to talk to Tyler. He certainly hadn’t meant for her to overhear his conversation.

You hurt her feelings and didn’t even bother to try to make it right.

Yes, he’d been an asshole not to apologize right away. He’d walked away with her pin,
thinking…What? What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been thinking. He’d simply decided to avoid the whole mess. He didn’t do
drama. Life was too short and he had enough in his life already.

He started shaking his head and couldn’t stop. “Nana, if you want me to, I’ll gladly
return the pin. She’s a very nice woman, but please don’t read any more into this
than there is.”

“Oh, there’s already more here than meets the eye.” She nodded primly. “Tell me something.
Was the pin the first thing you noticed about her?”

Jared could see where this was going. “No, Nana, it wasn’t. But…”

“But what?”

With a sigh, he walked to the window and placed one hand on the cold glass. It was
freezing outside at almost two in the afternoon. So different from last night’s mild
temperatures in the garden. And the warmth of the Salon. With Belle.

Which wasn’t her real name. In fact, he wasn’t sure who Belle really was. Her credit
card was listed in the name of a business. He’d checked before coming here, knowing
Nana would want to know who had found the pin.

Bullshit. You wanted to know who she was.

He wanted to tell his little inner voice, his conscience, to take a flying leap.

But he had to admit, there’d been something about Belle, something that drew him…

Silence surrounded him like a wet blanket, his grandmother’s
displeasure nearly tangible as he felt the heat of her glare on his back.

“Alright, alright.” He spun from the window. “I admit I found her attractive before
I noticed the pin. But, Nana, that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry the woman.”

Beatrice smiled as she lifted her hand, holding out the pin again. “Tell Belle I’d
like to meet her. Have a nice day, dear.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I could stay, if you want. We could do some
damage to a bottle of wine and a box of Double Stuf Oreos.”

Idling in her car outside Kate’s home in Adamstown on Sunday evening, Annabelle forced
a smile and shook her head. “I’m fine, Kate. Really. I’m just tired. I’m going to
take a hot bath, watch a little TV in bed, and probably fall asleep in ten minutes.
Shopping all day wore me out.”

Yeah, right. Shopping. Sure.

Kate’s eyes narrowed and Annabelle began to silently beg her best friend not to push.
They hadn’t spoken about what had happened, not since this morning when Annabelle
had woken Kate and spilled the whole story.

How the only reason Jared had seduced her had been to get the pin.

Kate had been shocked, then furious. She’d wanted to tear Jared a new one. She wanted
Annabelle to demand he give back the pin.

But Annabelle had only wanted to get the hell out. Humiliation burned like acid. She’d
dealt with it before, and she knew the only cure was to shore up her defenses and
she could only do that alone. Where no one could see her pain.

Pain was not for public consumption. The public twisted pain, consumed it like candy
and left only ashes behind.

Finally, Kate sighed as she grabbed her overnight bag and shopping bags from their
trip to the King of Prussia Mall. “Alright. I’m going. But I’ll be by to check on
you tomorrow. And you
will
let me in.”

Kate’s fierce expression actually made Annabelle’s lips curve in a tiny, true smile.
“I’ll be fine tomorrow. Just make sure you bring doughnuts.”

After a kiss and a hug, Kate reluctantly left the car, her expression worried. Annabelle
drove home in silence and parked her car in front of the sturdy brick building that
housed Elder Antiques.

Through the large front window of the first floor, she traced the controlled chaos
of the store. The faint glow of the security lights outlined the larger furniture
and display cases. She knew exactly what each case held and where to find every piece
of inventory.

Her gaze then lifted to the second floor where she lived.

Home, sweet home.

For years after her parents’ deaths, she’d felt adrift, anchorless. She’d lived all
over Europe during those first three years with her grandfather, never staying in
one place more than four or five months. Then she’d moved to Gettysburg and a series
of dorms and apartments at college. She’d felt safe there. Insulated.

Now, finally, she had a place to call home.

But no family to make it one.

Pushing out of the car and gathering her stuff, she made her way up the stairs at
the side of the building to the private entrance to the second floor.

Once inside, she did a quick check to make sure nothing had been disturbed and that
the security system had registered nothing
out of the ordinary. Dumping her bags by the door, she headed straight for the kitchen
and the bottle of red wine on the counter.

Glass in hand, she made her way to her bathroom and turned the taps to fill the old-fashioned
claw-foot tub her grandfather had had restored for her. As it filled, she wandered
back into her bedroom to gather underwear but found herself stopping to pick up the
photo on her nightstand.

It was candid, not a studio shot. Three adults gathered around a child who could’ve
played the lead in
Annie
without the curly red wig. The girl was blowing out eleven birthday candles on a
homemade cake that leaned to one side.

Everyone was smiling. Happy.

She remembered later that night, she’d crept out of her bed in the loft to go to the
bathroom and caught a glimpse of the adults continuing the party.

Which had reminded her very much of last night’s party.

Liquor flowing, couples, threesomes. Mom and Poppa on a bench by the wall, bodies
entwined.

Daddy with his ever-present pad seated beside them, sketching, watching.

She remembered being transfixed by the sight, like a deer in the headlights. Not by
her parents having sex. No, she’d been a fairly normal preteen and that was just too
icky for her.

But her dad, the intensity in his eyes, the way his hands moved over the paper, the
picture that slowly emerged from a series of lines and curves…That was amazing to
her.

Her gaze lifted to the painting hanging on the wall. The one her dad had done from
that sketch.

Only, instead of two people in the painting, there were three. He’d added himself.

It wasn’t nearly as explicit as most of his other work. And it
was one of his only watercolors, so it was hazy, almost indistinct. Lovely.

Annabelle thought it was one of his best pieces. It was certainly her favorite.

Peter O’Malley had had an incredible talent. And an incredible capacity for love,
which had included her mom and their lover, Poppa Danton.

Until a crazy woman had murdered the three of them in a jealous rage.

Leaving one Graceanna Belle O’Malley an orphan.

“So far, I got nothing. She’s either a ghost, Jed, or she’s got a lot to fucking hide.”

Dane tossed a manila folder on Jared’s desk the Tuesday after the party, then stood
there looking pissed.

“I’ll be damned.” Jared picked up the folder and flipped it open to see exactly why
Dane looked so furious. “Something you can’t do.”

Dane shot him the finger and started to pace. “It’s no skin off my ass if I can’t
find her. And I’ve spent too much time on this already. I have paying customers.”

“No, actually, you don’t.” Jared’s gaze narrowed on the slim amount of information
in the folder. “You don’t charge anyone therefore you have no paying customers. What
the hell does this mean? How can there be no actual people listed as owning this corporation?”

“Because the corporation doesn’t actually exist.” Dane finally threw himself into
the chair opposite Jared’s desk, shoving his hand through his dark hair to push it
out of his face. “Whoever set this up was a fucking genius. I think I need to hire
him.”

“So you can’t find her?”

Dane shot him a dirty look. “I didn’t say that. It’s just going to take a little time.”

“How much time?”

“Maybe a week. Maybe more to sift through everything. I’m telling you, whoever did
this did not want to be found.”

Well, shit.
Why the hell would an antiques dealer from some small town in Pennsylvania not want
to be found? It sounded like the plot to a mystery novel.

And seriously pissed him off.

“Are you working the antiques store angle?”

Dane flipped him off with both middle fingers this time. “Stick to hotels and let
the professionals handle the heavy lifting. Of course I am, but like I said, it’ll
take some time to wade through.”

Jared sighed and tossed the file back on the desk. He was tempted to tell Dane to
forget it. He’d tell Nana he couldn’t find her and that would be the end of it.

But the look on her face as she’d tossed him the pin. The hurt…

And last night, he’d dreamed about her, naked and writhing under him while he thrust
into her. She’d begged for more, bit his skin, licked him, sucked him. And he hadn’t
been able to get enough of her.