Twelfth Sun. Mae Clair

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СКАЧАТЬ him on the back. “It’s good to see you, Doc, but I’m going to tromp all over you. Gerald St. Croix wants Rook’s journal, and he’s given me carte blanche. I’m going to outbid whatever paltry sum you’ve got tucked up your conniving Mensa sleeve.”

      “Outbid?” Reagan blinked, feeling a nip of alarm. She’d been invited to purchase Rook’s journal, not enter into a bidding war. Frazzled, she tugged on Brody’s sleeve. “Excuse me, just who are you and what are you doing here?”

      He chuckled lightly. “Since Pellar left and Sothern isn’t here, let me handle the introductions.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and guided her into the room. The others turned from their various spots, eyeing her with open curiosity. One by one, Brody introduced them. The young couple was Livy and Alan Franklin, the bald man Earl Tarvick, and the dark-haired woman, Monica Holt.

      “We all came for the same reason,” Brody explained. “Jeremiah Rook’s journal. We’ve all received an invitation from Sothern for the weekend. Other than that, we’re waiting to see what our host has planned.”

      Before Reagan could respond, a servant arrived with a tray of blended fruit drinks in tulip-shaped glasses and a platter of hors d’oeuvres. Fancy cut cheeses, cold shrimp and grilled toast points with smoked salmon, cucumber and dill were artfully arranged on blush crystal. Anxious, she snatched up one of the tropical drinks, then trailed Brody to a corner where they could talk privately.

      “But I came to purchase Rook’s journal,” she protested.

      He flashed a smile. “So did I. It sounds like we’ve all been had. Might as well enjoy the stay. And the company.”

      He was magnetic but Reagan sensed his charm was conjured at will, a switch he toggled on and off as he pleased. Determined not to be sucked under, she looked away, studying the young couple who spoke with Elijah.

      Brody had introduced them as Livy and Alan Franklin, brother and sister, direct descendants of Samuel Storm. She had originally thought they might be husband and wife, but could now see marked similarities in their features. Both had blond hair and wide-set blue eyes, giving them a wholesome boy-and girl-next-door look. Livy’s hair was long and straight, secured in a sleek ponytail. She was cheerleader pretty, with flawless skin and a way of smiling that made her eyes sparkle.

      Reagan frowned, noting how intimately Elijah chatted with her, two gorgeous twenty-somethings clicking in the span of a heartbeat. She wasn’t certain why the thought bothered her, or why she was annoyed by Elijah’s fawning.

      Was he fawning?

      He wasn’t nearly as refined as Brody, but there was something appealing about his offbeat appearance. The unkempt hair, battered fedora and faded jeans paired with dock shoes, made him look more like a starving musician than a respected academic. Eccentric and brilliant. Hadn’t she always fancied herself falling for a man who could think rings around the general population? Too bad he was so young and cocky.

      Brody nudged her arm, distracting her. He pointed to the bald man he’d introduced as Earl Tarvick. “Earl likes to snatch up antiquities for resale on the international market. Doc and I frequently get stuck competing with him for the same item. I’ve never met Monica or the Franklins before, but collector circles are growing.”

      “Doc?” She fixated on the name. It was the second time he’d called Elijah that. “You’re referring to Dr. Cross?”

      “Yeah.” Brody laughed. “It’s kind of a private joke. I’ve crossed paths with Elijah so many times I know him like a brother. The kid’s too brainy for his own good, even if he does come off like a cocky adolescent. I’ve seen him pack lecture halls with men twice his age. What he lacks in social graces, he makes up in intellect. What I can’t figure out…” He shot her a sideways glance and his lips tipped in a crooked smile. “Is what he’s doing with you. My bet is you’re related to Gavin Cassidy.”

      “My uncle.” She wasn’t certain why she volunteered the information, but guessed it would come out sooner or later. That Brody had already made the connection meant he really did move in collector circles.

      “So you’re here on Gavin’s behalf,” Brody mused. “That still doesn’t explain Boy Wonder.”

      Reagan sipped her drink, hiding a smile. She sent another glance in Elijah’s direction. He and Livy were seated on a low-backed sofa, quietly conversing. Alan had wandered away to talk with Earl Tarvick. Little space showed between Elijah and Livy. They sat close together, knees practically touching. Elijah’s back was turned, his body angled toward Livy, marking the conversation intimate and private. Observing their posture, Reagan felt a flush of anger. It had to be because Livy was a competitor for the journal. No way was there anything remotely personal in her feelings for Dr. Elijah Cross.

      “I wonder if we’ve met somewhere before?”

      Reagan whipped back to the present. Monica Holt had sauntered over to their corner, her slim hands wrapped around the delicate stem of a tulip-shaped glass. Earlier, Brody had introduced her as an archivist with the Shipwright Landing Historical Society. Tall and thin, with dark eyes and the kind of low, husky voice that turned men to mush, Monica looked more supermodel than record-keeper. Her hair was cut in a blunt bob, offsetting chiseled cheekbones and a long, slender neck.

      “I don’t think so.” Something about the woman left her unbalanced. She couldn’t decide if it was the long elegant tips of Monica’s painted fingernails or the throaty way she talked like she’d downed a fifth of gin.

      “But you know Dr. Cross?” A single eyebrow crept into the fringe of Monica’s coal-black hair. She toyed with the delicate links of a gold necklace clasped around her throat. Her eyes darted sideways, settling on Elijah. “I’ve heard his name bandied about in academic circles, but always figured he was older. Gray-haired and portly, like one of those stodgy old professors.”

      “I really don’t know him,” Reagan said quickly. All she wanted to do was collect Rook’s journal and leave. The thought of spending the entire weekend at Sothern’s estate with this odd assortment of characters turned her stomach. “He’s doing my uncle a favor. We only met earlier today.”

      That wasn’t entirely true. There’d been that mortifying encounter at the North Shore when she’d witnessed just how well endowed he was in areas other than his mind. Thinking about it brought heat to her cheeks. She ducked her head, hoping the hot flush would fade. Thankfully, Pellar returned before anyone could comment on her odd reaction.

      “Mr. Sothern regrets he won’t be able to join you until dinner this evening, but wishes to assure all of you, he’ll answer your questions at that time.”

      “What about Jeremiah Rook’s journal?” Earl Tarvick demanded.

      Pellar held up a hand as if dealing with a slow-witted child. “Please, Mr. Tarvick. No questions until this evening.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and included the whole group in his next announcement. “Feel free to make use of any of the estate’s amenities. There is an indoor pool in the east wing, and should weather permit–” Again the staged smile, a little too practiced for Reagan’s taste. “A Jacuzzi and lighted pool on the roof deck. Your invitations should have included instructions on what clothing to bring. Hopefully, you were all astute enough to comply.”

      Pellar flicked a hand over his pristine cuffs, a nervous twitch. “There are stables to the south and tennis courts to the west. You’ll find a full gymnasium, weight room and sauna on the lower level, plus a billiard room СКАЧАТЬ