Nora Roberts - The Stars Of Mithra

“I go for mustard myself.” He brought it to the table, along with the fixings for her sandwich. “So what is it?”

She swiped mustard on bread. “What?”

“The tattoo? What is it?”

Embarrassed now, she slapped ham over mustard. “I hardly see that it’s an issue.”

“Come on.” He grinned, leaning over to tug on her hair again. “A butterfly? A rosebud? Or are you really a biker chick in disguise, with a skull and crossbones hiding under my jeans?”

“A unicorn,” she muttered.

He bit the tip of his tongue. “Cute.” He watched her cut her sandwich into tidy and precise triangles, but refrained from commenting.

Because she wanted to squirm, she changed the subject. “You were going to tell me what else you’ve found out.”

Since it didn’t seem to do his blood pressure any good for him to paint mental images of unicorns, he let her off the hook. “Right. The gun’s unregistered. My source hasn’t been able to trace it yet. The clip’s full.”

“The clip?”

“The gun was fully loaded, which means it either hadn’t been fired recently, or had been reloaded.”

“Hadn’t been fired.” She closed her eyes, grasped desperately at relief. “I might not have used it at all.”

“I’d say it’s unlikely you did. Using current observations, I can’t picture you owning an unregistered handgun, but if we get lucky and track it down, we may have a clearer picture.”

“You’ve learned so much already.”

He would have liked to bask in that warm admiration, but he shrugged and took a hefty bite of his sandwich. “Most of it’s negative information. There’s been no report of a robbery that involves a gem like the one you’ve been carrying, or that amount of cash. No kidnapping or hostage situations that the local police are involved in, and no open homicides involving the type of weapon we’re dealing with in the last week.”

He took another swallow of beer. “No one has reported a woman meeting your description missing in the last week, either.”

“But how can that be?” She shoved her sandwich aside. “I have the gem, I have the cash. I am missing.”

“There are possibilities.” He kept his eyes on hers. “Maybe someone doesn’t want that information out. Bailey, you said you thought the diamond was only part of a whole. And when you were coming out of the nightmare you talked about three stars. Stars. Diamonds. Could be the same thing. Do you think there are three of those rocks?”

“Stars?” She pressed her fingers to her temple as it started to ache. “Did I talk about stars? I don’t remember anything about stars.”

Because it hurt to think about it, she tried to concentrate on the reasonable. “Three gems of that size and quality would be unbelievably rare. As a set, even if the others were inferior in clarity to the one I have, they’d be beyond price. You couldn’t begin to assess—” Her breath began to hitch, to come in gasps as she fought for air. “I can’t breathe.”

“Okay.” He was up, shifting her so that he could lower her head between her knees, rub her back. “That’s enough for now. Just relax, don’t force it.”

He wondered, as he stroked her back, just what she’d seen that put that kind of blind terror in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I want to help.”

“You are. You will.” He eased her up again, waiting as she pushed her hair back away from her pale cheeks. “Hey, it’s only day one, remember?”

“Okay.” Because he didn’t make her feel ashamed of the weakness, she took a deep, cleansing breath. “When I tried to think, really think about what you were asking, it was like a panic attack, with all this guilt and horror and fear mixed together. My head started to throb, and my heart beat too fast. I couldn’t get air.”

“Then we’ll take it slow. You don’t get that panicky when we talk about the stone you have?”

She closed her eyes a moment, cautiously brought its image into her mind. It was so beautiful, so extraordinary. There was concern, and worry, yes. A layer of fear, as well, but it was more focused and somehow less debilitating. “No, it’s not the same kind of reaction.” She shook her head, opened her eyes. “I don’t know why.”

“We’ll work on that.” He scooted her plate back in front of her. “Eat. I’m planning a long evening, and you’re going to need fuel.”

“What sort of plans?”

“I went by the library on my travels. I’ve got a stack of books on gems—technical stuff, pictures, books on rare stones, rare jewels, the history of diamonds, you name it.”

“We might find it.” The possibility cheered her enough to have her nibbling on her sandwich again. “If we could identify the stone, we could trace the owner, and then… Oh, but you can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Work tonight. You have to go somewhere with Pamela.”

“I do? Hell—” He pressed his fingers to his eyes as he remembered.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to mention it. Your mother called. I was in here, so I heard the message. She’s upset that you haven’t returned her calls, or contacted Pamela about the arrangements for tonight. She’s going to be at Dodie’s until four. You can call her there. Also, Muffy’s very annoyed with you. She called shortly after your mother and she’s very unhappy that you missed Camilla’s piano recital. She isn’t speaking to you until you apologize.”

“I should be so lucky,” he muttered, and dropped his hands. “That’s a pretty good rundown. Want a job?” When she only smiled, he shook his head and rode on inspiration. “No, I’m serious. You’re a hell of a lot more organized than my late, unlamented secretary. I could use some help around the office, and you could use the busywork.”

“I don’t even know if I can type.”

“I know I can’t, so you’re already a step ahead. You can answer a phone, can’t you?”

“Of course, but—”

“You’d be doing me a big favor.” Calculating her weaknesses, he pressed his advantage. It was the perfect way to keep her close, keep her busy. “I’d rather not take the time to start advertising and interviewing secretaries right now. If you could help me out, a few hours a day, I’d really appreciate it.”

She thought of his office, decided it didn’t need a secretary so much as a bulldozer. Well, perhaps she could be of some use after all. “I’d be glad to help.”

“Great. Good. Look, I picked up a few things for you while I was out.”

“Things?”

“Clothes and stuff.”

She stared as he rose and began to clear the plates. “You bought me clothes?”

“Nothing fancy. I had to guess at the sizes, but I’ve got a pretty good eye.” He caught her worrying her lip again and nearly sighed. “Just a few basics, Bailey. As cute as you look in my clothes, you need your own, and you can’t wear one suit day after day.”

“No, I suppose I can’t,” she murmured, touched that he should have thought of it. “Thank you.”

“No problem. It’s stopped raining. You know what you could use? A little fresh air. Let’s take a walk, clear your head.”

“I don’t have any shoes.” She took the plates he’d put on the counter and loaded them into the dishwasher.

“I got you some sneakers. Six and a half?”

With a half laugh, she rewrapped the ham. “You tell me.”

“Let’s try them on and see.”

She slid the tray into the dishwasher, closed the door. “Cade, you really have to call your mother.”

His grin flashed. “Uh-uh.”

“I told you she’s upset with you.”

“She’s always upset with me. I’m the black sheep.”

“Be that as it may.” Bailey dampened a dish-rag and methodically wiped the counters. “She’s your mother, and she’s waiting for your call.”