A touch of love (2 page)

"Yes, I'm sure he must," Aubrey readily agreed. She glanced around the room again, and her eyes came to rest on the oil painting hanging above the fireplace. Roger Pursely had been an amateur artist, but unfortunately not a talented one. Obviously that didn't matter to Edith who continued to display his work. "I was sorry to hear about your husband. I'm divorced now, so I know how much you must miss him."

Startled by that odd combination of comments, Edith adjusted her glasses to get a better look at her guest. Aubrey was as strikingly pretty as she had been in high school, but if Edith was not mistaken, there was a hint of sorrow in her manner, too. "Yes, I do miss him terribly. But what happened? You were popular and wonderfully easy to get along with. You are the very last person I would ever have expected to get a divorce."

Edith hesitated, obviously expecting Aubrey to provide some details on the breakup of her marriage, but she was not even tempted. "No, I didn't expect it either." She was relieved when Jesse reentered the room and provided the perfect excuse to drop such a personal topic.

Jesse placed the tray holding a ceramic teapot and three cups on the table beside his aunt. "Would one of you ladies like to pour the tea while I get the cookies?"

"Ladies, " Edith whispered when they were again alone. "He's four years older than you are. Had I known you were divorced, I would have—"

"Edith, please!" Aubrey couldn't help but laugh, for she and Jesse Barrett were an extremely unlikely couple. "I came here to see you, not to look for an eligible male."

Edith's blue eyes sparkled with the mischief that had

made her a popular drama teacher. "Serendipity exists, you know that it does."

"Yes, that's certainly true, but—"

Jesse returned then with a plate of chocolate chip cookies his aunt had baked that morning. He could tell from the color in Aubrey's cheeks that they had been talking about him, and that didn't please him at all. In his aunt's view, it was high time he was married and had a kid or two. He didn't agree. Realizing he had forgotten the sugar bowl and lemon slices, he went back to the kitchen and this time also remembered the spoons and napkins.

"I've not kept track of anyone from high school," Aubrey admitted, "other than to scan the San Marino Tribune each week for news of old friends."

"I hear from quite a few each Christmas."

"That's good. Is anyone doing anything particularly interesting?" Aubrey hoped to include Jesse in their conversation, but he seemed content to sit on the couch, sip his tea, and munch cookies.

"Nothing to compare with your achievements," Edith revealed with a nervous smile.

Aubrey was aware of a subtle change in Edith's manner. She glanced frequendy at her nephew as if expecting him to contribute some significant remark, but he remained silent until they had all finished their tea. Once they had finished exchanging pleasantries the conversation grew increasingly strained. Aubrey was looking for a graceful way to excuse herself when Edith suddenly set her cup aside and reached out to touch her hand.

"I need your help."

"Of course. I'll be happy to help you in any way I can," Aubrey said.

"Roger was my second husband," Edith revealed with another anxious glance toward Jesse. "We had no children,

but I had a son from my first marriage. I'm sure you never met him. Peter was grown before I ever started to teach."

Aubrey tried not to let apprehension show in her expression, but she could not help but feel she had been lured to Edith Pursley's home under false pretenses. Edith was a teacher she had recalled fondly, but she could not work miracles for anyone, no matter how deep their faith in her might be. When she looked over at Jesse, he was regarding her with the same skeptical glance she had observed at the seminar. Clearly he thought her visit a waste of time, and she felt all the more offended.

Edith opened the drawer in the table beside her chair and withdrew a manila folder filled with faded clippings. "His name was Peter Ferrell. He, his wife, and their twin sons disappeared from their home more than two years ago. Maybe you read about it in the Times."

Aubrey's heart sank as Edith handed her the folder. She glanced through the clippings but the Los Angeles Times printed accounts of so many heartbreaking tragedies she didn't recall the mysterious disappearance of the Ferrell family. ''Perhaps I did at the time, but I don't remember it now."

"Take the folder with you and look it over. I'm sure it will help you to know everything before you try to contact them."

So that was it. Aubrey closed the folder and passed it back to Edith. "Many people misunderstand what I do, but training others in the art of following their hearts and trusting their intuition is in fact the opposite of psychic ability. I encourage people to turn their focus inward, to know themselves. A psychic is a person who sees into another's heart. I'm not a psychic, Edith. I can't locate missing persons."

Edith appeared distressed for a moment, but quickly grew more insistent. "The police are certain my son and

his family were murdered. Their only suspect was a man named Harlan Caine, a developer in whose company Peter had invested. They had a bitter argument a couple of days before the disappearance, but there are no witnesses, and no evidence has been found to link Caine to the crime. If you have heightened intuition, couldn't you sense the murderer's guilt if you met him?"

"I sincerely doubt it, but even if I could, my impressions wouldn't be admissible in court." Aubrey sounded truly regretful. "I'm sorry, but what you ask is impossible. I've enjoyed seeing you again, but I must leave now. I really must." Aubrey rose, bent down to give Edith's cheek a light kiss, and then hurried toward the door.

Undaunted, the elderly woman nodded to her nephew, and Jesse went after Aubrey. He didn't speak until they reached her car. He was impressed by the fact she had refused his aunt's request He had fully expected her to ask for money and to make an elaborate show, then an undoubtedly unsuccessful attempt to locate his cousin.

"Let me take you to dinner," he offered.

Ignoring his invitation, Aubrey faced him squarely. "I know you dozed off during the relaxation exercises, but didn't you hear a word I said today?"

Jesse jammed his hands in his hip pockets and debated the wisdom of revealing the truth. He had heard her clearly enough. He just didn't believe any of it. "I didn't doze off. I was just more relaxed to start with is all. Let's just say meditation and self-actualization aren't as interesting to me as they are to you. The police are stymied on Pete's case. My aunt can't afford detectives on her pension. Maybe she was wrong to believe you had psychic abilities, but hell, I thought it was worth our time to ask.

"My aunt never has more than a can of soup in the evenings and I'm starving for a steak. Let me take you to

dinner. I don't think a couple of cookies is sufficient payment for the time you took to come over here."

Aubrey sighed impatiently. She hadn't meant to be rude, but she found it extremely difficult to be gracious when presented with requests she couldn't fulfill. "Dinner really isn't necessary. Besides, I prefer vegetarian fare."

Jesse glanced toward the rapidly darkening heavens. / should have knoxvn, he moaned inwardly. 'Til take you to a place that has seafood, too. Do you eat that?"

"Occasionally, but—"

Jesse had noted she didn't wear a wedding ring and knew she was definitely the type who would if she were married. "Do you already have a date?"

"Well, no, but—"

"We'll take my truck this time," Jesse insisted, and before Aubrey could argue with him she found herself seated in a comfortable leather booth in a dimly lit restaurant three blocks away.

"Are you certain they serve food here? I thought the Barkley was only a bar."

"Best food in town," Jesse bragged with a sly grin. He still thought Aubrey had a peculiar way of making a living, but the troubled look in her blue-green eyes as she spoke with his aunt had been too sincere for him to distrust her any longer. "Look, I know I didn't add anything to your class today, and I hope you won't be insulted when I don't show up again next Saturday."

"I'll send you a refund."

"No, you needn't bother."

"It's no bother. You only enrolled in the seminar to have the opportunity to invite me to your aunt's home. Keeping your money would be unethical."

"Well, if you consider it a question of ethics, then go right ahead and mail me the refund."

"First thing Monday morning." Aubrey found it difficult

to see the Barkley's other patrons in the dim light, but she hoped the place wasn't a hangout for the Hell's Angels or some other raucous group she would sooner avoid.

Jesse saw her apprehensive glance and gave her hand a comforting pat. "Don't go out much, do you?"

"Not to places like this," Aubrey replied. The truth was she hadn't dated anyone since her divorce had become final the previous October, but she wasn't about to admit that. Of course, this couldn't be considered a real date.

Their waitress appeared then in a scanty black satin outfit that Aubrey thought was either two sizes two small, or intentionally cut low in the bodice and high on the thigh to titillate the male patrons. Either way, the young woman's outfit made her feel even more out of place.

"Do you have Perrier?" she asked softly.

"Of course, hon. Want that with lime?"

"Please."

"I'll have the same," Jesse responded when the provocatively dressed woman turned toward him.

"My Volvo has a stick shift, so I'm certain I could drive your truck home if you'd like to have something to drink.''

Jesse shook his head and the waitress left their table, but not before giving him her most alluring smile.

"I quit drinking a couple of years ago," Jesse explained. "It was after I got so drunk at a party that I fell out of a kid's tree house and damn near broke my neck. I thought if I had no more sense than that when I got a few beers in me, I ought to stay off the stuff."

"I know what you mean," Aubrey admitted with an embarrassed smile. "I have no tolerance for alcohol. I've never fallen out of a tree house, but whenever I drink I get the giggles and can't stop."

"I'll bet that's something to see."

"No, it isn't." With his gende teasing, Aubrey felt her natural reserve melting in spite of her best intentions to

maintain a professional attitude. 'Tm sorry you didn't get anything out of our seminar. Most people really enjoy them. Everyone has too much stress in their lives, and creative imagery is an effective way to dissolve it."

Jesse's glance swept over her face, knowing the freckles were there even if they didn't show in the dim light. 'Td say I got something out of it," he remarked with a sly grin. "You're here with me now, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but—" The waitress returned and Aubrey took a hasty gulp of Perrier rather than return Jesse's stare when it was now so blatantly appreciative. Trisha usually asked her if she had had a nice weekend. She could imagine her assistant's shock if she admitted she had let the cowboy who had come to their seminar pick her up and take her to dinner.

Jesse was sure Aubrey was blushing. She had run her seminar with a professional polish, but now she seemed so ill at ease that she reminded him of a teenager out on her first date. "How long have you been divorced?"

"What makes you think I'm divorced?"

"All the pretty women in California have been divorced at least once. Come on, tell me your story. I'll bet it's far more interesting than the deep breathing exercises we did today."

Unconsciously Aubrey squared her shoulders. She didn't confide in anyone the personal details of her life, least of all friendly cowboys. "Tell me something about yourself instead. What do you raise on your ranch?"

"Cattle, but my specialty is producing Brahma bulls for the professional rodeo circuit."

Aubrey's eyes widened. "I've always considered rodeo the most brutal of sports. In fact, I'm not sure it even qualifies as a sport anymore. I can understand ranchhands competing against each other for fun, but to ride bulls for money—"

"Hell, nobody's going to ride bulls for free!" Just the thought made Jesse chuckle. "Rodeo's a sport all right, and an intensely competitive one. If a cowboy isn't in the prize money fairly often, he has to quit and find steady work. That's the most brutal thing about it."

"Do you ride bulls, or merely raise them?" Aubrey held her breath, suddenly certain she was dining with a mild-mannered maniac.

"I used to ride until I was forced into retirement by a particularly obnoxious brute who shattered my right knee. Most people think it's the bull's horns that will get you, but it's the hind feet that are the worst. They pack a real wallop, and human knees just aren't designed to take that kind of punishment."

"Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yeah, I know. It's a damn fool way to make a living, but I loved it. I'm sure you wouldn't quit what you're doing just because people called you a fool."

"Oh, I've been called far worse things, Mr. Barrett."

"Jesse."

"Jesse." Aubrey managed a faint smile. "Perhaps we ought to find something less controversial to discuss."

"All right. I raise a few llamas, too. They're real lovable even if the bulls aren't." He pronounced the Spanish word correctly, making a y of the double 1.

"Llamas?" she repeated.

"Yes, they have a lot of personality and they're becoming very popular for pets. Some cities have had to change the zoning laws to allow them, but they're no more trouble than a large dog, and they're a lot more fun."

"I've seen them at the zoo, but I didn't realize anyone else owned them."

"I can make you a real good deal on one," Jesse offered with a conspiratorial wink.

"Sorry, I don't have room. My pool takes up my whole back yard."

The lots were large in her neighborhood and Jesse could easily visualize her owning an Olympic-size pool. "You live in that big house all by yourself?''

He had relaxed considerably since they had first spoken that evening, and while Aubrey had too, she still wasn't inspired to break her standing rule about confiding in others. Opening her menu, she was glad to find her eyes had adjusted sufficiently to the dim light to read the flowery script.