Mistress of Magic (13 page)

But she hadn’t had time to think about it. She’d leaped up, spilling the coffee, then pausing as he pulled her into the crook of his arm. “Woah! Take a second! Drink the coffee—it will help. Promise. I tried it already.”

And so, in the crook of his arm, she’d swallowed the coffee and spoke shyly. “Thanks! It is good.” But then she had moved out of his arm and run down the hallway and into a quick shower that was, at best, a promise of things to come. Then she’d hopped into black jeans and a short-sleeved tailored white cotton shirt, whisked her lashes with a brush of mascara and come running down the stairs with her comb tearing through the wild disaster of her hair.

Wes had been quiet while they drove to the park, so quiet that she felt walls building between them. But then his hand had fallen over hers when they reached the park, and he’d given her one of those smiles that could eclipse the heart.

“See you later?”

“Well, of course—”

“No, I meant, see you later?” And those golden eyes had blazed into hers with such a startling fire that she had felt a rush of warmth stir her cheeks. And she had nodded emphatically, but when she wanted to get out of the car, he pulled her back.

“Was it good to be with someone?”

“Yes!” she had whispered.

“With me?”

The fire had been spreading through her. Night-time had been so easy. Daylight was always hard.

“I never ask for a lot. Just honesty,” he’d told her.

“Yes! With you!”

He’d released her arm, and she’d fled past him through the dinosaur caves, waving to the morning guard. They had managed to arrive nearly thirty minutes before opening time.

In her office she had been barraged with phone calls.

And then Max had summoned her.

And now Wes was staring at her and she was having a hard time meeting his gaze. Honesty. That was all he wanted. But honesty was sometimes the hardest thing to give.

Her lashes lowered over her eyes. She found herself nervously moistening her lips with her tongue.

“I won’t be putting you out, will I, Reggie?” Wes asked politely. There was such an edge to the question.

Surely Max would notice it. But he didn’t. “Oh, Reggie will be thrilled, I’m sure,” her brother answered cheerfully for her.

Wes set his palms on the polished table and leaned down, looking into her eyes. “Well, Reggie?” His eyes could burn when he wanted them to. “Is that true? Will you be just thrilled?”

“I—I’ll be happy to have you there, of course,” she murmured primly.

He pushed away from the desk in disgust. She clenched her teeth, wishing she could make him understand and suddenly feeling desolate because she had exasperated him so badly.

But he was already leaving the room, walking to the door with long strides. Before he left he turned and waved a finger at Reggie. “Don’t leave without me.”

“But I—”

“I’ve got to leave the park for awhile today. I’ll be back for you. Even with Diana and the alarm people at your house, don’t leave
here
without me. Got it?”

His tone was sharp. Commanding. She wanted to tell him that she’d damn well do what she felt like doing, but she was suddenly certain that if she did, he’d come striding into the boardroom and wrench her from her feet and have it out then and there.

And she wasn’t ready to have anything out.

“After the show, I’ll be in the main costume shop trying to sort things out,” she said stiffly.

“Good.”

He left. She realized that Max was watching her intently. She turned on her brother.

“I don’t know exactly what his position was in the military, but he sounds like a damned drill sergeant!” she said irritably.

“He was an intelligence officer,” Max said briefly. “He decided to leave after the Iraqi war because he has such a length of plate in the one leg that he can foretell the weather with it. He knows what he’s doing. Thank God you’re being agreeable to having him at the house!”

“Yes, well …” Reggie murmured, rising quickly herself.

“Reggie!”

“Yes?”

“Why the hell didn’t you call me last night?”

She shrugged. She didn’t want to admit that, with Wes there, she didn’t even think of it. “Max, I’m sorry. If I had called you, what good would it have done? You and Wes could have just run around outside together.”

“Thank God he didn’t leave you! But then, Wes never would have left anyone in circumstances like that.”

“How noble,” she said in a soft grating tone.

Max shrugged. “Maybe he irritates you, Reggie, but his wife used to say that he was the last of the cavaliers. I think that maybe she was right, in a way.”

“His—wife?”

Max arched a brow. “Yes, wife. The woman that one marries.”

“But you told me that he was a widower—”

“He’s a widower now, but obviously he wasn’t always,” Max said, curiosity touching his eyes.

Reggie suddenly found herself wanting to stay when she had been in such a big hurry only moments before. “What happened to his wife?”

He sighed softly, reflectively. “She died of cancer. They both knew she had it for several years. They lived with it, doing the best they could. It’s all that any of us can do, isn’t it?”

He stared at her hard then. Neither of them was thinking about Shelley Blake at the moment.

We do the best we can … He had told her that once before. Yes, that was what they had done with Caleb.

There had been nothing else to do.

“So you knew—Shelley?” she asked.

Max nodded. “Sure. Wes was military for a long time. He didn’t get all that much time off. Shelley was with him several of the times when we met in San Francisco.”

“What was she like?”

“Soft, blond. An angel,” Max murmured. “She had the most beautiful smile. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman more feminine. Ethereal. Her hair was almost silver, it was so light. She was gracious and charming. Even when she knew she was going to die.”

“It sounds as if you were just a little bit in love yourself,” Reggie said, wondering why she should feel this sudden sense of resentment. She wasn’t a mean person. She should have been delighted that Wesley’s wife had been so wonderful.

It was just that she was wondering how she compared.

What did it matter? Poor Shelley was gone. Just like Caleb.

But Wes had loved Shelley. What would he be like with a woman he loved?

“No, I was just thinking …” Max said.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking about all the differences between Shelley and Daphne. Want to hear something terrible? There were a lot of days when I wondered how somebody like Shelley could die—when someone like Daphne enjoyed such wonderful good health. It didn’t seem fair then. And now …”

“Daphne might very well be just fine,” Reggie reminded her brother hastily.

“Maybe. I hope so. I really do.”

A soft silence fell between them. Then a phone rang somewhere down the hall, and Reggie cleared her throat. “I do have to go play dinosaur,” she told him.

“Hey, don’t feel too bad. I have to be David Diplodocus for the four o’clock appearance,” he said glumly.

“Hey! David’s your favorite!” she said.

“I know,” Max agreed quietly. “And I used to love to go out—maybe once every couple of weeks—as David. When no one knew what I was doing, and when no one knew who I was. I loved it. It was fun. And I did it because it was part of the magic, it was really the whole reason for the park. But now … well, now I’m doing it because I have to. And there’s a funny difference.”

Reggie hesitated a minute. “We are going to beat this thing.”

“Or go down swinging,” he agreed.

Reggie smiled slowly and turned, heading for the doorway.

“Watch out for him, Reggie,” Max suddenly called after her.

She stiffened, then swung around, feigning innocence. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I’m talking about Wes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Play straight with him, that’s what I’m saying.”

She set a hand on her hip. “Wait a minute. Excuse me. You’re my brother. Aren’t you supposed to be telling him to play straight with me?”

“You have a habit of wanting things to fall into nice, neat little niches. You want men to behave as you want them to.”

Reggie gasped. “What on earth are you talking about? I haven’t even seen any men since—”

“Right,” Max agreed. “Because you didn’t want anyone close. Nowhere near close. You shut doors. I’m just warning you. You never pull a wolf by the tail, Reggie.”

“There! You just said it. Go talk to your friend, the wolf!” Reggie returned.

Max smiled. “Do I need to talk to my friend, the wolf?” he queried politely, jet dark brows at an angle.

“You need to mind your own affairs, my dear sibling,” she warned him. Her chin was rising. She turned to leave the room.

She heard his soft laughter following in her wake.

By noon she had hopped around as Dierdre Dinosaur—which was fun!—helped out in the bakery kitchen, joined a parade as a dino-riding toy soldier and started to put some things in order in the costume shop.

Once upon a time, before the Daphne misery had begun, the costume shop would never have been in such bad shape. But before the Daphne misery had come up, there had always been at least one escort for every three people playing dinosaurs, and there had always been someone in the costume shop. Now the busy players were hastily shedding their costumes and hurrying on to some other position at the park, and the costumes were being thrust into general positions on the racks and hangers, but not being put away properly.

If Daphne was all right, and if she was trying to destroy the park, she was doing a very fine job of it.

Since she had nibbled on croissants while in the bakery that morning, Reggie decided that she could definitely forgo lunch. She spent the noon hour trying to begin to set the main costume shop straight.

Each show—and there were several of them—had its own costume shop and dressing rooms for the actors. But this was the main shop, and it was where all costumes were repaired, where they were made to begin with and where the bulk of them were stored.

The main theme of the park was dinosaurs, but the costume list was extensive. There were subthemes to the park, like the saloon show where the men were men and the women were women—they rode dinosaurs instead of horses, that was all.

Then there was the hall of history—where history was altered just a bit so that dino-cars could take the park guests from the days of the tar pits right up to the space age. Part of the exhibit was done with robotronics, or mannequins programmed to speak and move realistically. But the exhibit closed with a live performance with dancers and singers, some of them dinosaurs, some of them just friends of dinosaurs. Then there was a segment of the park on peoples of the world, featuring a show with a multitude of tunes and dances from all over the globe. All these costumes were stored in the main shop, too, along with the occasional broken robotronic figure or one that was being redressed or rewigged to take on another identity.

It could be an eerie place.

Reggie had never thought so before, but today, at noon, she stood in the shop all alone.

A half-clad woman with widespread Nordic pigtails stared at her with a sunny smile from across the room. There was a Hungarian count beside her, a fellow with slicked-back dark hair and a Dracula cape. He wasn’t smiling.

The artist had given him fantastic eyes. They seemed to follow Reggie.

“Oh, you stop it!” she told the figure suddenly. She had been stuffing the top half of a Dierdre costume into its proper square cubicle when she felt ripples of unease scoot up her spine. And when she turned, certain that someone was in the room with her, she had discovered that it was none other than the diabolically handsome Hungarian.

“You!” She wagged a finger at the figure. “Don’t get uppity with me. I’m pretty sure you’re one of my own sketches.” She moved closer to the figure, then smiled at her sense of unease.

She had been the first one to sketch him. He bore a marked resemblance to Max. She turned away from the figure and started stuffing costumes into cubicles again. She glanced at her watch. She had to make certain she gave herself enough time to get to the show. She wished she could shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Think about Wes, that should do it, she told herself. Or think about Wes and Max. Be mad at the two of them!

Damn Max. Just what the hell had he been warning her about? Well, if he thought she was teasing Wes, wanting someone to practice her wiles upon, he was way off the mark.

“He won’t be demanding anything he thinks I’ve offered because I’ve offered it all,” she murmured softly.

I offered too much
.…

And where had it gotten her?

Just where she wanted to be. He was angry with her now, she knew. Because she had been pretending that things were entirely aboveboard. No, they were both adults; things were aboveboard.

I just refrained from making an announcement! she defended herself.

What had he wanted from her? she wondered.

No ghosts. He had said something about ghosts. That there was a difference between not wanting to be alone, and wanting to be with someone.

But she had. And she had wanted to be with him.

And she hadn’t given a thought to anyone other than him from the moment she had come to him. She hadn’t seen anyone else or thought of anyone else.

No ghost of Caleb.

Honesty. It was what he wanted.

She groaned softly, thrust a big dinosaur head into its cubicle and moved to the oak desk. She sat down in the red-upholstered swivel chair behind it. She pressed the soda can she’d brought in with her against her temple, feeling it cool her. She popped the top and drank several swallows of the bubbly liquid, then swallowed a hiccup.

She stared at the old Victorian love seat, with its two matching armchairs, that sat across from the desk. Once upon a time, employees had gathered here. They had sat around to chat when their shifts were over. It had always been a warm place.

Now, the love seat was taken up by a half-clad, pretty, blond robotronic and the back half of a dinosaur costume. Reggie didn’t like the blond robotronic. She seemed to be looking at Reggie, too.