Twelfth Sun. Mae Clair

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      Two and a half hours later she parked directly behind Elijah’s dark blue Jeep on the inner curve of a horseshoe-shaped driveway. Eric Sothern’s home was located on a private stretch of rocky beach sixty miles north of Shipwright Landing. Reagan sat a moment, studying the mammoth structure through her rain-misted windshield. The house jutted from the horizon, banked by sand, rock and sea. White siding and gray stone fused with a vast expanse of windows for a blend of traditional and contemporary styling. Upper level sundecks and widow-walks were positioned at the rear and south of the property, overlooking the blue-gray waters of the Atlantic.

      Lost in her inspection, she jumped when someone rapped on her window. She looked over her shoulder to find Elijah standing outside, one arm braced on the roof of her car. The rain had dwindled to a barely perceptible drizzle and left a fine mist clinging to the brim of his black fedora. “Need an escort?”

      Ignoring the invitation, Reagan collected her purse. The luggage for her weekend stay would come later after she’d met her host. She stepped from the car, tugging the collar of her jacket up around her neck. “Have you met Eric Sothern before?” she asked, curious about the man who lived in such a lavish estate.

      Elijah shook his head. “I don’t know the first thing about him, but it looks like he’s got a nice shack. You could do wonders with the interior design.”

      She frowned, disturbed he knew her business background. What else had her uncle told him? As they stepped onto the sprawling porch, banked by elaborate white columns, Reagan noticed four cars parked to the side. More guests? Had they inadvertently interrupted a social call or a business gathering? Sothern’s invitation indicated they were welcome to arrive as early as eight AM.

      Elijah rang the doorbell and, within moments, a middle-aged man appeared. He gave them a quick once over through close-set gray eyes. “You must be Dr. Cross and Ms. Cassidy.” He studied Elijah discreetly, as if unable to reconcile the professional title with his age. “You’ll do, I suppose. Mr. Sothern is expecting you.”

      “How nice.” Elijah’s voice carried a tight edge Reagan hadn’t heard before. “And you are?”

      “Felix Pellar. I oversee Mr. Sothern’s staff.” He ran a hand down the sleeve of his immaculately tailored jacket, fastidiously straightening his cuff. “The others are in the solarium. This way, please.”

      “Others?” Reagan asked, but Pellar merely beckoned them inside.

      Not pausing to see if they followed, he walked crisply through a marble-tiled foyer into a hallway overlooked by a soaring loft. Reagan trailed slowly, Elijah a step behind. A grand staircase made a sweeping curve to the right, rising to the upper level in a lavish serpentine twist. Plush, foam-colored carpeting padded their footsteps, so dense it felt like walking on air. The glass-enclosed solarium was framed by a high cathedral ceiling and banked by walls of windows on three sides. A panoramic view of ocean, shoreline and sky created a startling backdrop of sea-washed blues and greens, steely grays, and earthy tans.

      A number of people were already gathered in the room. A young couple chatted quietly in the corner, their heads bent close together. Nearby, a black-haired woman sipped a thick, fruity drink while flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. A blond man sat beside her, casting an occasional glance over his shoulder when something caught his interest. Farther away, a bald-headed man stood gazing out the window. He had a pale complexion, thick black mustache and a goatee.

      “Mr. Sothern will be here shortly,” Pellar announced, eyeing her and Elijah as if they were a matched pair. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll have someone bring refreshments.”

      Reagan moved to object. “Thank you, but I don’t want–”

      Pellar was gone before she could finish. Exasperated, she clamped her mouth shut. Her eyes returned to the members of the group, who were all now openly staring. She felt like a specimen under a microscope. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks.

      “It’s always awkward being the last to arrive.” The blond man left his companion and approached with a breezy smile. He looked to be a few years older than her, his complexion smooth and bronzed as if he’d recently vacationed on a tropical island. His eyes were amber and lightly lashed, but his smile, near perfect and dental-white, was easily his best feature. He gathered her hand, gallantly raising it to his lips.

      “My heart just skipped a beat,” he said smoothly. “I’m Brody Simpson. World-traveler, antiquities buyer, modern day knight in shining armor.”

      Reagan pulled her hand free. His charm had all the earmarks of being manufactured. “Reagan Cassidy. Is that your resume or your wish list?”

      “It’s his brain structure, ranking up there with putty.” Elijah removed his hat and dragged a hand through his loose curls. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Brody. Tarvick too.” A nod indicated the bald man. “Does this mean we’re in competition again? It’s getting to be predictable.”

      “You’d miss it if it weren’t. Too bad you’re destined for the losing end.”

      “That’s what St. Croix wants you to think. Aren’t you tired of being his lap dog?”

      “Aren’t you tired of championing ivory halls?”

      Both men grinned simultaneously.

      “Excuse me,” СКАЧАТЬ