Iris Johansen - Across the River of Yesterday

"This is crazy." Serena could hear her voice tremble and tried to steady it. "Look, I have to go to my brother. He needs me."

He chuckled. "He needs absolutely nothing at the moment. He's being kept very well entertained."

"You know about Dane?" Serena asked incredulously.

Ross smiled. "He's a nice kid, a little wild, but he's got the right stuff. His coloring reminds me a little of you, Serena, but I understand he's only a half brother?"

"Yes," she said dazedly.

"He plays a mean game of poker." Ross's hand was on her elbow, propelling her gently toward the front door. "I nearly lost my shirt to him last night."

"They let you see him?"

"Oh yes, Gideon has me check on him every evening to make sure he's comfortable. Pedro Mendino can be… unpredictable."

Fear rained through her. "What do you mean unpredictable? Is Dane safe?"

Ross opened the door. "As in his mother's arms. Don't worry. Gideon won't let anything happen to Dane."

"Don't worry?" Serena whirled to face him, her violet eyes blazing. "What do you mean, don't worry? My brother has been imprisoned, I've been brought here and told I can't go anywhere without Gideon's permission and now you say this colonel who's holding Dane is 'unpredictable'! Why the hell shouldn't I worry?"

Ross blinked. Then a slow grin creased his cheeks. "My, how our meek little Serena has changed. I think Gideon's in for a surprise." He closed the door and gestured toward the graceful curving staircase. "I think I'll let him answer your question. I've done more than my share in this enterprise. Why don't you go up to your room. It's the same one you used last time. I'll tell him right away you want to see him."

"I want to see him now."

"He wants to see you too," Ross said soothingly. "Only the most urgent matter would have kept him from greeting you personally. As soon as he's finished his business hell be right up. Okay?"

"No!" She turned and started up the stairs. "It's not okay. Nothing is okay." She glanced down at him over the oak bannister. "But I'm going to make damn sure it will be soon."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I bet you will."

Serena slammed the door of the bedroom and threw her shoulder bag on the chair by the door. She couldn't remember when she had been so furious. What the devil was happening here? When she had arrived she had been shaken, filled with painful nostalgia and… fear. This house, Ross, and, most of all, Gideon, were all tucked safely into the past. The vulnerable girl she had been that night was also in the past, and she had no desire for that girl ever to become real to her again. She had made many painful sacrifices to make sure those vulnerabilities didn't exist any longer.

She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was probably getting upset for nothing. He had probably heard by chance she was coming back to Mariba and thought it would be pleasant to see her again. Ten years had passed and their night together was bound to be as dreamlike to him as it was to her. The autocratic manner in which he'd arranged their meeting was annoying, but surely not threatening, and he was evidently being quite helpful to Dane.

Her eyes flicked open with shock. How did he know Dane was her brother? She hadn't given him her last name. If he hadn't known her last name, how could he possibly know she was coming to Mariba? Again, she shivered with fear. What did she know about Gideon Brandt? Nothing. He was an enigma seen through the eyes of a child, a child in a state bordering on emotional collapse. This episode was very strange. Was Gideon obsessed?

She moved slowly to the single window across the room. Decorative wrought iron bars guarded the windows as in many Spanish homes. Had the bars been there when she had been here before? She couldn't remember. Then, Gideon had said something about screens and keeping out the "critters." Heavens, she was becoming paranoid. She refused to panic. There had to be some reasonable explanation. She would see Gideon, they would talk and exchanged reminiscences and then she would leave.

She heard a low murmur of voices and her gaze was drawn to the patio directly below her window. Sunlight glinted and then was captured in the crisp, tawny hair of the man standing just below her. Gideon. She felt a tiny shock. His back was to her, but she recognized him instantly. He was dressed casually, a white short-sleeved shirt, black jeans and boots, all emphasizing the tough leanness of his body. He was standing beside a tall, brown-haired young woman in a Dior suit; whose lush figure would have given Raquel Welch an inferiority complex. The woman smiled at Gideon with unmistakable intimacy as he helped her into the back of a long navy blue limousine.

Then he stepped back and his hand lifted in farewell as the limousine pulled away.

A faintly rueful smile curved Serena's lips when she turned away from the window. So much for Gideon's being obsessed. Gideon's important "business" that had taken precedence over her arrival was far sexier than she would ever be. And the completion of the "transaction" had probably taken place in the bedroom, not the library. A man who had such women at his beck and call would have trouble remembering, much less harboring an obsession for, an inexperienced seventeen-year-old.

The knock on the door was impatient and the door swung open before she could answer.

Gideon stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over her with a hungry eagerness that stopped the breath in her throat. Then he smiled, the deep slashing dimples indenting his lean cheeks. It was exactly the same. Warmth and gentleness and sunlight.

"I'm sorry I made you wait." He came forward, his steps springy and charged with vitality. She had forgotten the way he walked, the impatience, the grace, the directness. "Something came up at the last minute and-" He stopped. "Lord, you're beautiful. I knew you would be. I've even seen pictures, but it's not the same."

"No?" She whispered. She hadn't really forgotten, she realized. She had buried the memories, but not erased them. Now she knew she had remembered everything about him, the drawling nuances of his voice, the way he raised his left eyebrow, those dimples. It was all coming back to her, flowing through her in an irresistible tide. It was crazy. She had known him for such a short time. No one could leave so deep an imprint in a few hours. She shook her head to clear It. "Pictures?"

"Not many. You're fairly publicity-shy, aren't you? The one in Women's Wear Daily was pretty good though." His fingers reached up to touch her hair, drawn back in a neat chignon. "This is pretty, but I like it better down. All this sophistication kind of intimidates me." He shook his head. "Funny. It never bothered me with any other woman, but in you, it scares the hell out of me."

She found herself smiling involuntarily at the boyish admission. "I'm not particularly sophisticated. I live a very simple life in a cottage in upstate New York. Most of the time I wear jeans and a ponytail. Your lifestyle is probably more sophisticated than mine." Her smile faded as she remembered the Dior-garbed sex symbol Gideon had just escorted to the limousine. She stepped back. "In every way." She met his eyes and said crisply, "Now what the hell is going on here?"

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. "Wouldn't you rather discuss it over dinner? I have a French chef now." He smiled teasingly. "Or I can make you another omelet?"

She shook her head. "Now," she said crisply. "Right now."

He shrugged. "I was afraid you'd be a little upset. Okay, I wanted you here on Castellano. Well, that's not exactly true. I wanted you anywhere I could get you, but I figured on Castellano we'd have a better chance to get to know each other."

She stared at him, stunned. She spoke with great deliberation. "And may I ask what you did to get me here?"