Twelfth Sun. Mae Clair

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      And falling flat on his face.

      What was so brilliant about aggravating Reagan? They’d been on rocky ground from the start. He probably alienated her for good with the stunt he’d just pulled, but–damn–all he’d cared about was kissing her! The temptation of covering her moist, full lips with his had shot his sanity to hell. He’d been blindsided by her from the moment they’d met. Her insistence on strict professionalism only made him want her more.

      He thought of her lips, lush and smooth, and how they’d molded perfectly to his. He could still feel her heat smoldering beneath the surface, so rocket-hot it made his groin ache. He had it bad. Dr. Elijah Cross, noted PhD, thinking with his libido. He was doomed, plain and simple.

      He sprawled in a chair and glanced about the room. It was spacious and neat, decorated in warm shades of russet, olive and gold. French doors led to a sundeck overlooking a barren stretch of beach to the rear. Through the glass he could hear the roar of the surf as it crashed on rock and sand. The duffel bag he’d jammed full of clothes and toiletries sat at the foot of the bed, courtesy of Sothern’s house staff. His lone suit had been hung in the closet.

      Expelling a breath, he slouched lower in the chair. He’d have to do some fancy apologizing before the day was out if he wanted to put his relationship with Reagan back on track. Originally, when he’d agreed to help Gavin Cassidy, all he’d cared about was learning why the Twelfth Sun sank. Rook’s journal would end two centuries of theory and debate. As intriguing as that was, it took a backseat to Reagan and her tight little behind. Stifling a groan, he dragged both hands over his face.

      Red hair, green eyes and a body with enough curves to make a man forget his own name.

      The woman was gorgeous. Not just passing pretty, but stop-a-man-in-his-tracks-gorgeous. Too bad she considered him little more than an overgrown schoolboy. So what if there was a gap in their ages? He wasn’t a wet-behind-the-ears teenager and she a tottering old grandmother. It was the twenty-first century, for crying out loud. Didn’t she realize older women with younger men were in vogue? She’d certainly had no qualms about flirting with Brody.

      Elijah snorted.

      Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been flirting exactly, but they’d been awfully cozy. He scowled, knowing his sometimes friend, more often rival, had been blessed with a healthy dose of good looks and charm. Determined to keep Reagan away from him, he pushed from the chair and headed for the door. He had a day and a half to convince her he wasn’t a bookish egghead, good only for mucking through maritime histories. He knew his way around the bedroom every bit as well as the lab. With any luck, she’d let him prove it.

      * * * *

      Reagan took her time unpacking. When she was done, she wandered through the house, adjusting to the scope of the mammoth estate. A man given to eclectic tastes, Sothern had installed everything from a fully-equipped photographer’s dark room to an artist’s gallery on the main level. A greenhouse, conservatory, library, and formal dining room in a glass-enclosed rotunda, overlooked the rocky beach. The circular dining room, Pellar had called it. It was stunning and elaborate, designed to take advantage of breathtaking ocean views. Yet it was the small-scale planetarium, offset from the main house she found the most intriguing. Who the hell had a planetarium in their house?

      Curious, she wandered inside. The room was dark, illuminated only by a glittering array of star constellations scattered on an overhead dome. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the eerie lighting. Feeling her way among the seats, she moved to the center of the room and slipped into a padded chair. She tilted her head back, enthralled by the icy gleam of stars, so life-like she expected to feel a nighttime breeze on her face. With a start, she became aware of another presence. Someone had been in the room before her and was seated a few rows to her right. In the limited light, the form was without shape, a lump in the darkness. She sensed when the person looked in her direction.

      “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The voice was husky and low. It could have belonged to a man or a woman.

      Reagan squinted, straining to see through the darkness. Eventually she gave up and looked at the stars clustered overhead. “What are they?”

      “Constellations of the southern hemisphere.” The form shifted, manipulating something unseen. A beam of blue light danced across the dome, outlining a single cluster. “This is Crux, the Southern Cross. It’s guided sailors for centuries. Twelve point four five hours right ascension, minus fifty-nine point nine seven degrees declination. Visible from latitudes south of twenty-five degrees North. To us, completely invisible, buried on the other side of the world.”

      Reagan didn’t know what to say. The person, whomever he or she was, sounded sad. She suddenly felt like she was intruding and stood to leave. “I don’t know anything about astronomy,” she offered helplessly. And then as if she needed to explain herself: “I’m here for the weekend.”

      She cringed immediately, realizing how stupid the remark sounded. Somewhere unseen an engine engaged. Constellations and stars reeled across the mock sky as one hemisphere retreated in favor of another.

      “I don’t know anything either,” the voice muttered. “It’s always been make-believe.”

      Reagan watched, awed by the mechanisms that brought a new sky to life. The constellations were familiar. The Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Orion the Hunter, and the W constellation she could never remember by name. Beautiful, recognizable lights she’d gazed on time and again, season after season. It didn’t matter that the sky was man-made, the lights artificial. “It’s so peaceful,” she whispered.

      She heard a door open and turned to see someone duck outside. A small wedge of light pierced the room and was quickly smothered by darkness as the door swung shut. Reagan looked back to the row of seats on her right, now empty.

      “Hello?” Puzzled by the abrupt disappearance of the stranger, she hurried through the same door. Rounding the corner at a clip, she collided with Brody.

      “Whoa.” He caught her shoulders when she would have stumbled. “What’s the hurry?”

      She blinked, confused. “Did you…did you just…” She craned her neck to see around him. The beach was empty, stretching in a sandy line to the rolling blue-gray hem of the Atlantic. In the opposite direction, a ridge of grassy dunes forded the rear of Sothern’s home. She stepped backward. “Did you come from the planetarium?”

      “You mean in there?” Brody looked surprised. “I was at the house. I came down to see if you wanted to go riding with me.”

      Reagan frowned, unconvinced. “Did you see anyone leaving? A few seconds ago?”

      “Just you.” He grinned. “So how about it? Would you like to go riding?”

      “Riding?” She hesitated, still disturbed by the odd encounter in the planetarium. Brody’s appearance was a little too coincidental, much too quick. Could he have been the person sitting in the dark, talking about star constellations and make-believe? Why not tell her if that was the case?

      “I’ve never been on a horse.” She tried to bow out gracefully.

      “I’ll teach you. Might as well do something to pass the afternoon. The alternative is listening to Pellar berate the house staff.”

      “I really don’t think–” She stopped abruptly. Elijah appeared on the sundeck overlooking the beach. Unaware of her presence, he strolled to СКАЧАТЬ