Three Fates (48 page)

“I have to dry my hair. In a minute. You catch a chill going to bed with wet hair.” But she yawned and snuggled against him.

Not only sated, not only satisfied, she realized. But saturated.

“You’ve a wonderful build, Jack. Next time, I’d like to feel it on top of me. But you get some sleep first.”

He tangled his fingers in her wet hair. “Why now?”

She lifted her head. “You’re tired. And even such a fierce lover needs a bit of rest.”

“Why now?” he repeated so she couldn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“All right then.” She got up, fetched a towel from the bathroom and, sitting beside him, began to dry her hair.

“In the shower you looked like a mermaid. You still do.”

“You don’t look like a man who’d think or say such poetic and romantic things.” She reached out, traced a fingertip over the scar, over the tough lines of his face. “But you do. I never thought I had a weakness for the poetic and romantic. But I do.”

She eased back, continued to dry her hair. “I had a dream,” she said. “I was in a boat. Not a grand ship like the
Lusitania,
nor one of our tour boats. But a white boat, sleek and simple. It slid without a sound over blue water. It was lovely. Peaceful and warm. And inside my head I knew I could pilot that boat anywhere I wanted.”

She shook back her damp hair and used the towel to blot water drops from his chest and shoulders.

“I had the freedom for that, and the skill. I could see little storms here and there, blurred on the horizon. There were eddies and currents in the water. But they didn’t worry me. If a sail’s nothing but smooth, I thought in my dream, it gets tedious. And in my dream, there were three women who appeared in the bow of my boat. This, I decided, is interesting.”

She got up again, went to his dresser, opened the top drawer and took out a white T-shirt. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Help yourself.”

“I know where you keep your things,” she said as she pulled the shirt over her head. “As I’ve had no respect for your privacy. Now, where was I?”

“You were in your boat, with the Fates.”

“Ah yes.” She grinned, pleased he’d understood. “The first, who held a spindle, spoke. ‘I spin the thread, but you make it what you will.’ The second held a silver tape for measuring, and said, ‘I mark the length, but you use the time.’ And the third, with her silver scissors, told me this. ‘I cut the thread, for nothing should last forever. Don’t waste what you’re given.’ ”

She sat again, curled up her legs. “And in the way of dream creatures, they faded away and left me alone in that pretty white boat. So I said to myself, well now, Rebecca Sullivan, here’s your life spread all around you like blue water with its storms and its peaceful times, its eddies and its currents. And where do you want to go with it, what do you want in the time you’ll have? Do you know what the answer was?”

“What?”

She laughed, leaned over, kissed him lightly. “Jack. That was the answer, and I don’t mind saying I wasn’t entirely pleased with it. Do you know when I had that dream?”

“When?”

“The night I met you.” She took the hand he’d lifted for hers and rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “Hardly surprising it gave me a bad moment or two. I’m a cautious woman, Jack. I don’t grab for something just because it looks appealing. I’ve been with three men in my life. The first time, it was hot blood and a raging need to find out what it was all about. The second was a boy I had deep affection for, one I hoped I might spend my life with. But as it happened, he was just one of those eddies in the sea. You’re the third. I don’t give myself lightly.”

He sat up, cupped her face in his hands. “Rebecca—”

“Don’t tell me you love me.” Her voice shook a bit. “Not yet. My heart went for you so fast, I swear it left me breathless. I needed to let my head catch up. Lie down, won’t you. Let me snuggle up.”

He drew her down with him, settled her head on his shoulder.

“I won’t mind traveling,” she said, and the hand he’d lifted to stroke her hair froze.

“Good.”

She smiled, pleased that he’d tensed. Some things, some right things, might come easy, but they should never come without impact. “I’ve always wanted to. And I’ll expect to know a great deal more about this business of yours. I’m not a sit-at-home-and-iron-your-shirts sort.”

“I send mine out anyway.”

“That’s fine, then. I can’t leave Ireland altogether. My mother . . . I miss Ma.” Her voice went thick, and she pressed her face against his neck. “Something fierce. Especially now, when I’m in love and can’t tell her about it. Ah well, soon enough.” She sniffled, brushed a tear away. “Anyway, you can expect me to get my hands into your company.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want you in my life, Rebecca. I want in yours.”

“I have to ask you a question. Why didn’t your marriage work?”

“A lot of reasons.”

“That’s an evasion, Jack.”

“Bottom line? We wanted different things.” Different directions, he thought, different goals.

“What did you want that she didn’t?”

He was silent for so long, her nerves began to stretch.

“Kids.”

With those words she all but melted into a puddle of love and relief. “Oh? How many do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. A couple anyway.”

“Only two?” She made a snorting sound. “Piker. We can do better than that. Four should suit me.” She tucked the sheet under her chin, shifted, sighed. “You can tell me you love me now.”

“I love you, Rebecca.”

“I love you, Jack. Go to sleep awhile. I already set your alarm clock for nine-thirty.”

She slid into sleep, and into dreams, into the white boat gliding over a blue sea. And this time Jack stood at the wheel beside her.

 

 

TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE Jack’s alarm rang, Gideon brewed the first pot of coffee of the day. He rooted through Tia’s cupboards and found the poppy seed bagels. He was beginning to appreciate the Americans’ fondness for bagels. While the others slept, he tucked a bagel into his jacket pocket, poured an oversized mug of black coffee and headed to the door.

He’d have his breakfast, and a morning smoke, up on the roof.

He opened the door and stared at the attractive black woman who had her finger poised to ring the buzzer.

She jumped; he tensed. And when she let out a quick, nervous giggle, he shifted gears smoothly.

“Gave us both a jolt, didn’t it?” He offered her a broad smile. “Something I can help you with?”

“I’m Carrie Wilson, a friend of Tia’s.” She shifted her gears as skillfully as he, and studied him carefully now. “You must be Malachi.”

“Actually, I’m Gideon. Tia’s mentioned you. Are you coming in?”

Her measuring gaze narrowed. “Gideon who?”

“Sullivan.” He stepped back in invitation just as Malachi came out of the bedroom. “That would be Mal. We’re just starting to stir. We had a late night.”

Still on the edge of the threshold, Carrie goggled at both men. “Good God, she’s got two of you? I don’t know whether to be impressed or . . . I’ll stick with impressed.”

“Actually, one of them’s mine.” Cleo, wearing nothing but a man’s T-shirt, strolled out of the spare room. “Great shoes,” she said after giving Carrie the once-over. “Who are you?”

“Rewind.” Jaw set, Carrie marched in, shut the door. “Who are
you
? And where’s Tia?”

“She’s sleeping yet.” Malachi aimed a smile that was every bit as potent as Gideon’s—and, in Carrie’s opinion, just as suspicious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch the name.”

“I’m Carrie Wilson. And I want to see Tia right this minute.” She set her briefcase down, pushed up the sleeves of her Donna Karan jacket. “Or I start kicking some ass.”

“Start with one of them,” Cleo requested. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“Why don’t you pour some for everyone?” Malachi said. “Tia’s just sleeping in a bit. We were up late.”

“Move aside.” Carrie took a meaningful step closer. “Now.”

“Suit yourself.” He moved out of her path and watched her stride into the bedroom. “I think we’re going to need that coffee.”

The drapes were drawn. All Carrie saw in the dim light was a lump in the middle of the bed. A tongue of fear licked over her annoyance as she thought of all the things a trio of strangers might have done to her trusting, vulnerable friend.

There’d been a bulge in the dark-haired man’s jacket pocket. A gun, she thought. They were drugging Tia, holding her at gunpoint. Terrified at what she’d find, Carrie tore the sheets away.

There was Tia, buck naked and curled in a cozy ball. She blinked sleepily, started to stretch, then let out a thin scream.

“Carrie!”

“What’s going on here? Who are those people? Are you all right?”

“What? What?” With a blush rising from her toes, Tia crossed her arms modestly over her breasts. “What time is it?”

“What the hell difference does that make? Tia, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except . . . Jesus, Carrie, I’m naked. Give me the sheet.”

“Let me see your arms.”

“My what?”

“I want to check for needle marks.”

“Needle—Carrie, I’m not on drugs.” Keeping one arm tight over her breasts, she held out the other. “I’m perfectly fine. I told you about Malachi.”

“More or less. You didn’t mention the other two. And when my best friend, whose toes would fall off if she considered jaywalking, asks me to break the law, she’s
not
perfectly fine.”

“I’m naked,” was all Tia could think of. “I can’t talk to you when I’m naked. I have to get dressed.”

“Christ.” Impatiently, Carrie stomped to the closet, yanked it open. She sniffed, audibly, when she spotted the men’s shirts hanging beside Tia’s clothes. Then she pulled out a robe, tossed it on the bed. “Put that on, then start talking.”

“I can’t tell you everything.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” Tia stuck her arms in the robe, dragged it around her. And immediately felt better.

“Tia, if those people are pressuring you into something—”

“They’re not. I promise. I’m doing something I need to do, something I want to do. For them, yes, but for me, too. Carrie, I bought a red sweater.”

The lecture on the tip of Carrie’s tongue fell away. “Red?”

“Cashmere. I don’t seem to be allergic to wool after all.

I’ve missed my last two standing appointments with Dr. Lowenstein, and I canceled my monthly appointment with my allergist. I haven’t used my inhaler in over a week. Well, once,” she corrected. “But that was pretend, so it doesn’t count. And I’ve never felt better in my life.”

Carrie sat on the side of the bed. “A red sweater?”

“Really red. I’m thinking about getting a Wonderbra to go under it. And it doesn’t matter to him. He likes me when I wear dirt brown and dull underwear. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yeah. Tia, are you doing what you’re doing because you’re in love with him?”

“No. I started doing it before I fell in love with him. All the way in love anyway. It’s connected, Carrie, but it’s not the why. I shouldn’t have asked you to get that information on Anita Gaye. I’m sorry I did. Let’s forget it.”

“I’ve already got the data.” With a sigh, Carrie got to her feet. “You get dressed. I’m going to have some coffee and decide if I’m going to give the data to you.” She crossed to the door, turned back. “I love you, too, Tia,” she said, then closed the door behind her.

And scanned the trio in the living room.

The woman with the legs was sprawled on the sofa, sipping coffee with her feet propped on the thigh of the hunk who’d opened the front door.

Hunk number two was leaning against the opening into the kitchen.

“You.” She pointed at Gideon. “What’s the bulge in your pocket?”

“Bulge.” Cleo gave a wicked laugh, then poked Gideon’s ribs with her toes. “You happy to see me, Slick?”

“It’s nothing.” Vaguely embarrassed, he dug into his pocket. “Just a bagel.”

“Is that the last poppy seed?” Cleo straightened, snatched it out of his hand. “You were sneaking off with the last poppy seed bagel. That’s low.” She unfolded herself. “Just for that, I’m eating it. No weapons,” she added for Carrie’s benefit, then strolled into the kitchen.

“Would you like coffee?” Malachi offered.

“Cream, no sugar.”

“Cleo, be a pal. Cream, no sugar for Miss Wilson here.”

“Work, work, work,” came the mutter from the kitchen.

“First question,” Carrie began. “Tia claims she can’t tell me what she’s involved in. Is she protecting you?”

“No. She’s protecting you. You don’t have to ask the second question, I’ll just answer it. She matters very much to me, and I’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep her from being hurt. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

“Just for that,” Cleo said from behind him, “you get half my bagel. You’re a friend of Tia’s,” she continued, nodding at Carrie. “So am I. You’ve got seniority, but that doesn’t mean I’m less of a friend.”

Considering, Carrie looked at Gideon. “And you?”

“I love her,” he said simply, then grinned a little at the looks he got from Cleo and Malachi. “In a warm and brotherly fashion. Do I get the other half of the bagel?”

“No.”

“I’m under constant abuse.” He got to his feet. “I’m going up and having a smoke. If Becca or Jack call, let me know.”

“Becca? Jack?” Carrie turned to Malachi as Gideon walked out of the apartment.

“Rebecca’s our sister. Jack’s another friend of Tia’s.”

“She certainly stockpiled a lot of friends in a short time.”

“I guess I was saving up,” Tia said as she came out of the bedroom.

Carrie glanced over, sighed again. “I told you red would look great on you.”

“Yes.” With a little smile, Tia brushed a hand over her new sweater. “You always did.”