JoAnn Ross - No Regrets

She’d no sooner sat down beside the pool with Jason when Elaine approached.

“Darling,” she said to her son, “I hate to bother you with business, when you’ve just arrived, but Jeremy Stone insists on speaking with you in the library. It seems he’s in desperate need for someone to serve as a police consultant on his new movie and of course you immediately came to mind.”

“I’ve already got a job, Elaine,” Jason said equably.

“Of course you do. But if you’d only talk with him.”

He sighed as if this was a familiar argument, and turned toward Tessa. “I won’t be long.”

She smiled up at him. “I’ll be fine.”

He laughed at that and ran a finger down the slope of her nose. “Oh, you’re a lot better than fine, Tessa Starr.”

Still glowing from that tender touch, Tessa was watching a stunning blonde clad in a thong bikini playing a spirited game of Marco Polo with an aging television comic when a handsome man wearing obviously expensive linen slacks and a collarless shirt approached. If Jason hadn’t just left, Tessa would have sworn it was him.

“My baby brother tells me you’re an actress,” he said, handing her a slender crystal flute of champagne.

“Jason’s your younger brother?” She took a sip. The pale gold wine tasted like sunshine on water.

“By eight minutes. And I do my best not to let him forget it.” His grin might have been a replica of his brother’s, but the devils in his dark eyes were all his own. “But I have to admit this time the kid has definitely demonstrated terrific taste.”

Tessa took another sip of champagne. “Thank you,” she murmured into her glass.

“Don’t thank me. Thank whatever magnificent gene pool you were spawned in.” He rocked back on his heels. “I assume you have photos?”

“Of course.” She was pleased for a chance to demonstrate that she wasn’t as naive as he thought her to be. She pulled the photos from her oversize purse.

Although Tessa thought them flattering, Miles’s frown was not encouraging. “These look like high school graduation shots.”

“Your brother thought they were good.”

“My brother’s a cop. All he saw was a drop-dead gorgeous female. While I, on the other hand, see the unflattering shadow beneath your eyes, and the way whoever was behind the lens didn’t even try to show off your cheekbones.”

He reached out and ran his fingertips along the bones in question. “You could cut crystal with these,” he murmured. “But that hack made you look like a chipmunk-cheeked farmer’s daughter.”

That stung. “I suppose you’re an expert on photography?”

“Actually, I am.” Rather than appearing fatally wounded by her attempt at hauteur, he seemed amused. He cupped her elbow in his palm. “Come with me and I’ll show you what a real photographer can do with a face like yours.”

Tessa didn’t think she liked him. She knew she didn’t trust him. However, now that he’d pointed out the flaws in the photographs, she could see that he was right.

She was trying to decide what to do when Jason returned. “You keep manhandling my woman, Miles,” he said mildly, “and I’ll have to throw you in the slammer.”

“I was just going to show Tessa my rogue’s gallery.”

“I think she’d rather see my Wanted posters.” He put his arm around her bare shoulders. “Wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

She looked back and forth between the two brothers, trying to figure out whether or not their rivalry was real or a longtime game they enjoyed playing.

“You’re scaring her,” Miles complained. The smile he bestowed on Tessa was absolutely harmless. “Would you feel better if Officer Friendly here came along with us?”

Tessa reminded herself that a faint heart never achieved anything. “I think I’d like to see your photographs.”

“Terrific.” He nodded with satisfaction. “I’ve shot some of the most stunning faces in the business. And believe me, very few of them can hold a candle to you.”

Exchanging a look with his brother over the top of her head, he led Tessa back into the house.

* * *

The next time Molly woke, she found another familiar face sitting in the chair beside the bed.

“You realize, of course, that you scared us all to death,” the elderly nun, who was the closest thing Molly had to a mother, scolded.

“Next time I’m raped and beaten, I’ll try to be more discreet about it.”

A frown furrowed the forehead that, when Molly had first met her, had been covered by a starched wimple. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

“On that we’re in full agreement.” Molly scooted up in bed, wincing at the pain in her hips. Obviously Reece had cut back on his orders for drugs. “How’s Lena?”

“Your sister’s going to be fine.” The nun fingered her rosary beads absently. “Thanks to her husband. The man appears to be a rock.”

“He is that.”

“Father Murphy said a mass for you this morning,” Sister Benvenuto announced. “And the congregation is praying for you. As are all the members of the order, of course.”

“Tell everyone I appreciate their prayers.” Molly glanced around the room. “It looks as if someone threw a hand grenade into the middle of the Rose Parade.”

“You have a great many friends. The red and white carnations in that plastic Santa Claus vase are from Thomas. I have every suspicion that he stole them from a supermarket.”

Molly figured Sister Benvenuto was undoubtedly correct in her assumption. “It’s the thought that counts.”

The older woman shook her head. “You’re too easy on him. With the proper motivation he could return to the work he was called to do.”

“If God can’t provide the impetus, I’m not about to try.” Molly sighed as she thought about Thomas. “Besides, if he hadn’t given up the priesthood, he wouldn’t have been there to help me.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to write it off as another case of the Lord working in mysterious ways.” The older woman’s gaze sharpened as she studied Molly. “I was afraid we were going to lose you.”

“There was a moment I thought that, too.”

Molly knew the nun was not talking about her leaving the order, something they’d discussed on more than one occasion. Each time Molly had dared to profess doubts about a true vocation, Sister Benvenuto had assured her that such thoughts were not only normal, but expected. That such reflection would ultimately make her even more committed to her religious calling.

“It’s going to be difficult to deal with,” the nun predicted. “But you’ve always been strong, Molly. And with God’s help, you’ll survive this test of faith just as you’ve survived every other trial in your life.”

Although she didn’t believe that God would have deliberately caused her to be brutally attacked, to test her as he had Job, Molly saw no point in arguing. Even during her teens, when she’d been an angry young girl, rebelling against the myriad rules the sisters who ran the Good Shepherd Home for Girls had expected her to obey without question, Molly had admired the nun’s seemingly unwavering faith. So unlike her own, which always seemed to question everything.

“What would I ever have done without you?”

“God only knows. Although there’s always the possibility you could have ended up on the street, like those poor girls I pass every day,” the no-nonsense nun said briskly.

“Being sent to Good Shepherd was the best thing that ever happened to me.” What at first had seemed to be punishment, had in the end proven a blessing. The home for girls had been a sanctuary, the first Molly had ever experienced. “I wish Lena could have had the same security.”

Molly had often thought it ironic that Lena, who’d tried so desperately to fit in, was the one who’d suffered the most by being constantly shuffled from foster home to foster home.