True Bliss (18 page)

"Better than to fall for a fabulous face and a body that any woman would kill for? Prue, you need an hour or two with Sebastian. I'm going to arrange it. You're sex-starved, that's the problem."

"Bliss—"

"No. No, you don't have to thank me. I believe in sharing perfection with my friends. What do you like best?"

"Like?"

"You know?" Bliss gave Prue a sly grin and dug her in the ribs with an elbow. "In bed. Or on the floor. Or in the shower— or on the kitchen table. Take it from me, Sebastian does it better than anyone and he does it anywhere and everywhere. You tell me what you want and I'll set it up."

Prue's mouth hung open. Her brown eyes bulged.

"Positions are no problem. He's very athletic and he's imaginative. Let me tell you, there can't be another man on this earth who uses his mouth in as many ways as Sebastian Plato. He's got this long, slow building technique that'll drive you insane."

"That's disgusting." Prue drew her short body up very straight. "I don't know what's happened to you."

Bliss started to chuckle. Her chuckles became laughter and she bent forward at the waist.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

Bliss nodded, helpless to speak now.

"Well, it wasn't funny. Kitten was here early in the morning yesterday and Sebastian came downstairs without any clothes on."

"He d-didn't," Bliss said. "He had jeans on."

"That's not what I heard."

"Well it's the truth."

"Your mother was horrified. And Vic and that butterfly-brained model of his were there. How embarrassing. You would never have allowed your reputation to get mixed up with people like that until you came here."

"I should have come here years earlier," Bliss said, sober again. "Prue, we're either going to agree not to discuss any of this again, or we're going to tread very separate paths until you're through with whatever you're trying to accomplish."

"Bliss, don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything. You are. Do you want a cup of hot tea? We could forget we ever had this conversation."

A mutinous crease formed between Prue's eyes. "I've got to get back to the rest of the group. We're having a meeting. I want you to come with me."

"Not in this lifetime."

"Please, Bliss."

"Absolutely not."

"If I can prove to you that Plato's bad news will you reconsider?"

"You won't be able to prove it." Rash words, but she wasn't going to judge Sebastian again—not without gathering her own evidence against him.

"Your parents are furious with you."

"What else is new."

"Morris said Sebastian insulted Kitten."

How typical of her mother to twist the truth. "Sebastian insulted my mother by politely telling her he didn't care about her opinions of him. He also told her he wasn't ashamed of being a bastard and didn't intend to become ashamed of being a bastard. Which means my mother made a point of telling him he was a bastard from the wrong side of the tracks and that she thought he should go back where he belonged. That was because he refused to turn tail and leave my home when she told him to."

A dark green limousine slipped into the lane and parked beside Prue's tiny brown Honda.

"That's him, isn't it?" Prue asked, planting her feet. "Oh, Bliss, don't do this to your friends."

A chauffeur got out of the limousine and raised an umbrella. He stepped back to open a door and sheltered the tall woman who got out.

"Who is it?" Prue asked.

"Just a new tenant," Bliss said, as curious as Prue. "If you don't have any more questions, I'd better get ready to help her fill out her application forms."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Bye, Prue. Thanks for stopping by. I'll call you."

"Have it your way. I'm going. One more question, though. Did you find out what it was you saw the other night? The ghost or whatever?"

"What—" She would have to warn Fabiola and Polly not to talk to Prue. "I was jumpy the other night. I'd had a difficult day and something put my imagination into overdrive. That's it. I didn't really see anything." Or not anything she'd been able to explain afterward, not that she'd entirely stopped worrying about it.

The chauffeur held the gate to the lane open and then had to hurry to keep up with the woman he shielded with the umbrella.

"Who is she?" Prue said. "Someone you know?"

Bliss shook her head in exasperation.

"Okay. But I'm not waiting for you to call me. You'll pass through this stage and come to your senses. Good-bye. Take care, please, you're very important to me."

Bliss felt a niggling guilt. "You're important to me, too, Prue. We're just going to have to agree to disagree on this one. Don't worry. I won't do anything stupid."

"I wish I could be sure of that." Prue walked purposefully away, her head bowed. When she passed the newcomers, she stared at the woman for longer than was polite before continuing on to the Honda.

Bliss waited for her visitors to come to her.

She'd agreed to get together with Sebastian again tonight. The scene with Kitten had been horrible, and later Bliss's father had visited the Point for only the second time in her memory. The first had been immediately after Auntie Blanche died when he'd come for the reading of the will and been furious to learn that Bliss was her aunt's sole heir.

Despite exceedingly high-heeled beige pumps, the woman

who approached picked her way rapidly over the slippery ground. The chauffeur's umbrella obscured her face. A rust-colored raincoat of some silky fabric swirled from narrow shoulders to wide hem and alternately billowed and wrapped itself around the woman's slim form.

"This must be it," Bliss heard the woman say. "The ugly log place."

Bliss smiled to herself. "Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

The woman didn't stop walking. She did jerk the handle of the oversized umbrella until she could see Bliss. "I doubt it," she said. "I want to see Bliss Winters."

Short brown hair gelled straight back. When Bliss had last seen this woman, her hair had been short, too, but combed forward around her face, and minus the gray streak that now swept from one temple.

"Good God," Maryan Plato said, taking Bliss in from her wet, disheveled hair, to the green rubber boots with yellow soles that had come from the same surplus store as the camouflage jacket. She flapped a gloved hand at the chauffeur. "Go away. Wait in the car. I'll send for you. Is this your place?" She asked Bliss, indicating the lodge.

Bliss walked silently past her to the porch. Using a toe, she worked off the heel of the opposite boot, then stood on her bare foot to remove the other boot. Maryan Plato shouldn't have the power to make her feel weak, or to make her head ache, or her arms and legs tremble.

Before opening the door, she took off the jacket and hung it on a nail beside several others.

The atmosphere in the great room was steamy. Fabiola grabbed any excuse to start a fire. Flames curled up the big chimney and two of the women who were summer renters— both poets—sat on the worn rug before the hearth, looking damp. Engrossed in reciting aloud to each other, they barely acknowledged Bliss's arrival.

Leaving the door open behind her, she walked through the

room and into the kitchens where Polly toiled over several pots on the stove.

" 'Lo, Bliss," she said. "Fab and Bobby are at the bungalow with Mom. She's dropped by to sprinkle us with her latest insights. Fab'll be right back. Sebastian called. He said—"

Bliss felt the instant when Maryan's arrival silenced Polly.

"What did he say?" Maryan asked.

Polly frowned at Bliss, who shook her head slightly. "How's dinner coming?"

"Great. Stew. You know how Fab is about storms. Any storms. Build a fire and eat stew. Beef, chicken or vegetarian. Take your pick."

"Gourmet stew." Bliss laughed. "Polly, this is Maryan— Is it still Plato?"

"Of course."

Bliss studied Maryan thoughtfully. Did that mean she believed in women keeping their maiden names after they were married, that she'd never married, or that no sane person would give up a name like Plato?

"We need to talk," Maryan said. "Where can we go?"

"Here will do," Bliss said. Under no circumstances did she intend to be alone with Maryan Plato again. The last time was already unforgettable.

Maryan eyed Polly.

Polly smiled pleasantly and, predictably, began to hum. "The Ride of the Valkyries" took on new dimensions when hummed by Polly Crow.

"I really don't think you'd want me to say what I came to tell you in front of a stranger."

"Polly isn't a stranger." And Maryan Plato didn't call any shots here. "This is Sebastian's sister," she said to Polly.

"Hi," Polly said. "Do you work at Raptor?"

Bliss gaped at Polly.

"I'm Sebastian's partner," Maryan said curtly.

"You have a talent agency, don't you?" Polly asked. "As well as the modeling agency?"

"Yes." Maryan peeled off her gloves and undid the single tortoise-shell button at the neck of her raincoat.

Polly brandished a wooden spoon. "I've been thinking of dropping by. Of course, I'm not short of work, but there might be something I could do for you."

Maryan took off her coat and draped it over the back of a chair. A soft beige sheath, cut low to showcase the only part of her that wasn't thin—her breasts—ended at mid-thigh. She regarded Polly, the spoon, and the stove. "We don't have much call for gourmet stew at Raptor."

Polly's already pink face turned a darker shade. "I'm a singer."

"A very fine singer," Bliss said, furious with Maryan.

"In that case"—Mary an's smile showed small teeth but was definitely shark style—"call Zoya. Just Zoya. Tell her I said you should have an appointment. She'll set something up for you."

Polly's delightedly flustered thanks made Bliss's heart plummet. Later she'd have to warn her to guard against disappointment.

"Now," Maryan said. "A private place?"

The door from the terrace opened and Fabiola came in.

"This is Maryan Plato," Polly said, exuding excitement. "She's going to help me get an audition with Raptor."

Fabiola looked at her sister with undisguised envy. "You're kidding."

"I'm not, am I, Ms. Plato?"

Maryan ignored her. "I'm a very busy woman, Bliss. I made time to come by because this is important."

"Do you run the modeling agency?" Fab asked, raking her fingers through her hair. "I've been meaning to come by your new offices and see if there's anything I might be interested in."

"Call Zoya," Maryan said, not even bothering to look at Fab. "Tell her I told you to call her and arrange an appointment. She'll set something up."

Bliss couldn't bear to look at either of the twins. "We can go up to my rooms," she said, leaving the kitchens almost at a run, and jogging upstairs. She didn't slow down until she was inside her room.

Within seconds Maryan came in and shut the door. She'd taken the time to gather up her raincoat. This time she tossed the wet garment on Bliss's map table and looked around the room with open curiosity.

"I don't have long," Bliss told her, suffocating on her innate dislike for this posturing woman.

"Why? Are you meeting Sebastian?"

"You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about."

Maryan grew still. She met Bliss's gaze and shook her head slightly. "This is very difficult. I need your help."

Bliss didn't trust Maryan Plato. The sharp-featured girl she'd met in the dark, in a car, on a night she'd like to forget, had matured into an arrogant, if elegant woman.

She reached into her raincoat pocket for an antique silver cigarette case and a red enameled lighter. "Mind if I smoke?"

Before Bliss could answer, a flame shot from the lighter. Maryan drew on a long, thin cigarillo, dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Smoke curled slowly from her nose and drifted. The pungent scent was faintly sweet.

"How did you find out where I live?"

Maryan looked at her. She strolled to the cedar chest, sat down and spread her arms along the brass footrail of the bed. When she crossed her legs, Bliss saw coffee-colored lace panties.

"Sebastian hired a detective. Did you know that?"

Bliss frowned. She didn't like feeling defensive on her own turf but she couldn't bring herself to sit down.

"He did," Maryan continued. "Shitty little man called Nose, if you can believe it. He had Nose find out all about you, including where you live and how long you've lived here. Same pattern as always, I'm afraid. Gets a woman on his mind and hires someone to bring him all the smutty details—or just plain details if that's all there are."

Hair rose at Bliss's nape. "Thank you for telling me." Maryan wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing Bliss get angry. "If that's all—"

"It's not all. I didn't have to come here. 1 do need some help

TRUE BLISS • 159

from you, but I also want to help you. You're still in love with him, aren't you?"

Bliss opened her mouth.

"They all are," Maryan said, leaning to flip ash into a Spode basket. "That's his problem. Women love him. And he loves women."

"I don't know why you've come to tell me these things." Subtlety had no place here. "I'd like you to leave. Now."

"Oh, damn it." Maryan massaged her brow with two fingers. "Tact was never my strong suit, Bliss. I've got absolutely nothing against you. Can you believe that?"

"I don't think you care what I believe."

"Oh, but I do. I have to because I've got a problem and I don't think I can continue to deal with it alone. I tried everything I could think of to stop him from coming here, you know. Back to the area."

"Really?" Bliss wished she didn't feel miserable at the very idea that Sebastian might not have appeared on her doorstep a few days earlier.

"He wouldn't listen. So much talent, but he's very vulnerable. I know you'll find that hard to believe, but he is. He wants respect. To a huge degree, he's been able to buy what he wants— who he wants. But you can only buy certain kinds of respect, and you can't get a pedigree with any amount of money—not the real thing."