Mistress of Magic (3 page)

He walked to the door, saluted her and disappeared beyond it.

“Damn him!” she exploded.

The air-conditioning suddenly seemed to wash over her hot flesh. She shivered and flushed from head to toe.

And only then did she realize that she still had no explanation for the man being in the costume shop—or any idea of how he had come to be in it.

Chapter 2

T
he dinosaur was a woman.

All woman—every lush, entrancing curve of her.

Wes Blake couldn’t quite help smiling as he left the costume shop behind and headed through the growing crowds for one of the buildings across the crowded main Dino Street of the park. Above the main Dino Store and Dierdre Dress Shop were a number of small offices. Max Delaney had seen to it that Wes had been given some space here, next to Max’s office and that of his sister, Regina.

Regina. Reggie. He’d heard so much about her over the years from Max. But still, he hadn’t expected the woman he had just met.

He slipped around the stucco cave walls of the shop to the private entrance and rode a small elevator to the top floor. He walked down a handsomely carpeted hallway, past Miss Wainwright’s desk—saluting the dragon lady promptly—and onward to his own office. There was a large desk in the center of the room and a sleep sofa opposite it, a bath and dressing room to the side, shelves of glasses for sodas and drinks, and a small refrigerator to supply whatever his whim might be. In a glass case was an old puppet—maybe twenty-five years old by now, one of the very first Dierdre Dinosaurs. It had been crafted by very young hands and signed on the bottom of a foot by Max and Regina Delaney.

He sat back in the comfortable swivel chair behind the desk. He’d like a Scotch. His head was pounding, but the meeting was coming up.

Hell, he’d have a Scotch anyway. One wasn’t going to change the way he saw the world.

He poured himself a drink, then sat back in the chair again, resting his feet on the desk as he sipped the fiery liquid. It was good Scotch.

Max would have seen to it that it was the best.

He’d known Max for over twelve years now. Ever since they had entered the service as scared young kids, volunteers who were suddenly wondering just what they had volunteered for.

They had found out together, serving three years in the same company. They had been a rough three years, spent mostly in Central American jungles.

Max Delaney had broken up much of the tedium and the misery and the heat. Wes had learned that slowly. Little by little, he would notice that children flocked around their tents. Max Delaney didn’t care how dirty they were, or how many.

He could make a puppet out of anything. Torn socks, paper bags. And he created great characters for the children. When Wes first commented on the ingenuity of his creations, Max would always tell him, “Oh, these are nothing. You should see what I can do with Reggie.” And he would grimace. “Reggie can sing. I tend to sound like a dying swan.” Then Max learned that Reggie was studying, she had earned a scholarship to a prestigious arts school. “I can help her a little with what I make here,” Max had told him. “And then, when I get out, I’ll have Uncle Sam’s help to get through school myself. But if you ever meet Reggie, remember that she thinks I’m here because I want to be here, all right?”

Sure, if he ever met Reggie, he’d lie.

And he understood a lot about Max. Delaney didn’t talk much about the past, but Wes knew that he and his sister had grown up being passed from relative to relative.

He knew a lot about that kind of status, too. He hadn’t the faintest idea who the Blake who had fathered him had been; his mother had died on a sidewalk in New York when he had been ten, and he had just sat down next to her and cried.

That had been the last time he could remember crying. Real tears. He hadn’t even been able to shed them again when he had lost Shelley years later.

Of course, he hadn’t known about Shelley then. Nor had he met Reggie, not then. Somehow he and Max managed to stay in the dangerous jungles, hoping they would get home. But during those days, just as Wes learned that Max had his artistic talents, Max commented that Wes had a nose for gathering intelligence. Their superiors noticed it, too.

When their enlisted period was up, Wes went on to officers’ training school. Max left the army to return to the States and his sister.

“You’re going to make a good living out of those puppets,” Wes told him.

“And you’re going to survive wherever you go,” Max said in return, as they clasped hands. “If I ever need someone in my corner, I’ll be calling on you.”

They had seen each other five years later in San Francisco. Max had just gotten a series on public television for his puppets. The idea for the theme park had come to him, and he had already drawn up a multitude of plans.

“I can start small,” he had told Wes excitedly. “Reggie can be half of the entertainment!” he had added with a laugh. “And if the television series is a go, I’ll be able to get the backing.”

Wes had been amazed at how ready Max was to start.

And he could help.

Just two months before his meeting with Max, he had been called by a lawyer’s office in New York City.

His grandfather had died.

He hadn’t known he’d had a grandfather. The man hadn’t bothered to offer a nickel for his mother to receive a pauper’s plain coffin, much less show up for the funeral! He’d tried to feel something; he hadn’t been able to.

But he’d suddenly inherited an indecent sum of money, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it.

He’d bought his mother the most beautiful, gaudy marble angel he could find. And he’d offered the rest of it to Max.

Max hadn’t been able to believe his good fortune. At first he hadn’t been willing to accept the money. “I mean to sell stocks—”

“And you’ll still have to sell stocks. But maybe what I’ve got can hurry things along.”

“But, Wes—”

“Max, I’ve never met a man who was a better investment.”

He had meant it then, and he meant it now. Max Delaney hadn’t killed anyone. And he wasn’t here now because he was worried about his investment or because he had any questions whatsoever about Max.

He was here to prove Max was innocent.

It seemed he would have some passionate help in that direction.

Reggie.

He smiled suddenly, even if the smile was a little grim. Max Delaney was a handsome man, and Wes had heard that Regina resembled her brother. Somehow, though, he’d just never been able to see Max’s sharp green eyes and jet dark hair on a woman.

Now … now he could see them. Easily. Regina Delaney was beautiful. Exotic even, with her slightly tilted, brilliant eyes, soft ivory complexion and long, pitch dark hair. Where Max’s chin was squared, hers was a gamin’s, delicate, just slightly pointed, for her face was heart-shaped, her eyes were large and lustrous, and her mouth …

Hmm. Her mouth was made for kissing. He’d never thought that way about a woman’s mouth before. But hers was. Fully defined, rich, generous—she had beautiful lips.

She liked to play games.

But only when the ball was in her court.

He lifted his feet suddenly from his desk, glancing at the watch on his left wrist. The meeting was just minutes away and he wanted to grab a quick shower and change.

He realized suddenly that his heart was pounding quickly. He felt warm, anxious. Excited. The adrenaline was ripping through his system. Over the meeting?

He didn’t think so. He paused, smiling slowly. Could it be the furious Miss Regina Delaney? Could this thing be a raw—dare he think it?—desire?

Yes. For his best friend’s sister.

Well, she was no child. And she had started the game.

Well, Miss Delaney, the game is about to continue. If she was displeased with him at the moment, she was going to be even more displeased when she discovered who he was.

None of that really mattered, he reminded himself sternly. Max mattered. The truth mattered.

But Regina was irrefutably entangled with Max.

And so, though she might not realize it yet, he thought grimly, Reggie Delaney was irrefutably entangled with him now, too. With that thought firmly in place, he hurried in for a shower.

To his aggravation, he discovered that it needed to be a cold one. Very cold.

Because no matter how hard he tried to think of Max, he kept picturing Max’s sister as she had stood there in the costume shop, curves and limbs so elegantly, beautifully … sensually displayed.

He groaned aloud and turned off the hot water altogether.

The main offices for Dierdre’s DinoLand were atop the large stucco and brick cave through which guests entered the park. There were large picture windows through which the executives, employees and whomever else happened to enter into such sacred company ground could observe guests arriving, being greeted and entering the park. In the center of the offices was a large boardroom, and it was here that Regina hurried as soon as she had repaired the Dierdre costume and changed into her street clothing.

Long after the man with the golden eyes had swept past her to exit the costume shop, she had still felt as if he was with her. She had still felt those eyes on her, seen in her mind’s eye the curve of his smile.

The air had remained charged with his energy, and she had spent long moments looking after him, wondering about him. She’d wanted to call him back. To give him a good shaking.

She wanted to know how the hell he had gotten into the costume shop.

And most of all, she felt a peculiar aching, wondering if she’d ever see him again.

Then she’d been angry with herself. Still, it wasn’t so bad that she should have an intense interest in such a brazen stranger. But the nerve of the man, appearing in the shop, then behaving as if he had every right to be there! That was obviously why she’d stared after him. She’d been angry. Really angry. She’d best not see him again. She’d call security for certain.

And then she’d finally managed to dress, her flesh still feeling as if it was on fire.

Max! She reminded herself. Max! The business meeting. How on earth could she be worrying about anyone else when Max was in such grave difficulty?

She had chosen a very businesslike red suit with a red and white striped tailored blouse beneath it. She wasn’t sure at first why she had chosen the red or the shirt, but when she thought about it, she realized she had certainly been preparing for battle. In her artistic pursuits she had learned that red was a bold color. And she did intend to brazen her way through the meeting!

And the tailoring of her dress? Easy. The rest of the execs were men. She was going to be playing with the big boys. She wanted to be taken seriously. She was out to defend Max.

Even as she hurried along the hallway to reach the meeting room, she reminded herself that Max didn’t exactly want to be defended, and certainly not by his sister. Little sister, she thought ruefully.

They were twins, but she had been born five minutes after Max. He had never let her forget those few minutes. He had always tried to be the big brother. They had grown up squabbling, but they had grown up best friends. Both had their moments of yearning for independence and had a great deal of respect for the other’s freedom and space.

But in times of crisis, no siblings could be closer.

Her fingers were trembling slightly as she set them on the door leading to the board of directors’ chamber. Be still! she commanded them. She twisted the doorknob and entered the room. The first person she saw was Max, standing by one of the windows, looking at the park.

A startling, almost overwhelming feeling of warmth filled her as she watched her brother, for the moment unobserved in return. Max loved children. He loved them of all ages, but he especially loved small children. Children when they were impressionable—children at an age when they could so easily be lost and hurt.

Children at the age she and Max had been when they had lost their parents, when they had first learned the shuffling from airport to airport, from relative to relative.

That age when it was so necessary to believe in dreams and magic!

Her brother was a handsome man. Tall and dark and very serious at this moment, reflective. He stood in a dark suit, his hands clasped lightly behind his back, his classically chiseled features arresting in the soft, artificial light of the room. There was so much for him to lose at this moment!

An intense feeling of dislike for Daphne, Max’s ex-wife, came rushing swiftly down on Reggie, and then a breathless sensation filled her and she was silently praying. No, God, I didn’t mean it. Make Daphne be all right, please, let her be all right.

But she didn’t think Daphne was all right. The signs were too disturbing. And so she just couldn’t help but pray that, no matter what Daphne’s situation, it wouldn’t ruin this magic Max had created. Yes, this was business! And yes, she and Max made a nice living off the park. But it was more than that. They opened their doors to so many foundations!

To orphans, to the sick. To the weary and the lost. Max never forgot the need for a little bit of fantasy and magic in every life.

Her brother turned to her suddenly. Intuitively, he had known that she was there. He tried to smile quickly, reassuringly. She knew the smile was a front, but she offered him a bold one in return.

“Regina!” She hadn’t taken a step toward Max before she heard her name spoken softly. She felt a faint whisper of unease come rushing along her spine.

Rick. Rick Player. He was the fourth largest stockholder in the corporation and held a position on the board. Rick came from money. Big money. He’d spent his life playing polo and golf and letting his money make more money. He was blue-eyed, blond and suntanned to perfection, suave, charming.…

And slimy. In all the years she had known him, Reggie had never felt comfortable with him. There was something licentious, so it seemed, beneath every word he said. She never liked the way he accidentally touched her whenever they spoke. Brushed by her. Came too close.

“Rick,” she said quietly. It wasn’t time to go to battle against Rick. Nor did she want Max to see just how uncomfortable Rick made her.