Secrets in the Stone (11 page)

Rooke’s eyes closed slowly and she leaned ever so slightly into Adrian’s touch, and Adrian fought not to rub her thumb over Rooke’s mouth. Her gaze drifted lower, down Rooke’s throat to where the open collar of her shirt framed the delicate points of her collarbone and the hollow between. She saw herself leaning forward, lips parted to press a kiss to the pale skin between Rooke’s breasts. Rooke tasted sharp and clean, like crystalline water from a natural spring, vital and pure. Adrian gasped and jerked her hand away. Rooke’s eyes flew open, the dark pupils widening.

“I’m sorry,” Rooke murmured.

“No.” Adrian rose, willing her shaky legs to carry her toward the door. She hadn’t touched her, but God, it had been so real she could still taste her. “You needn’t apologize. I seem to be the one creating a scene. I’ll let you finish your work.”

*

“She all right in there?” Dom asked when Adrian returned to the kitchen.

“Yes, she seems to be.”

Adrian busied herself at the sink, rinsing dishes and emptying coffee grounds. A few moments later she heard footsteps behind her and turned, willing her expression to be neutral, as if nothing had happened. Rooke stood in the doorway, her dark gaze on Adrian.

“All done?” Adrian asked.

“We’ll get an estimate to you tomorrow, probably.”

“Yes, all right. That will be great. Thank you.” Lord, she sounded like an idiot, Adrian thought.

Dominic stood and stretched. “If the wind picks up the way they predict, we ought to check that tarp tomorrow, Rooke.”

“I secured it, but the chimney should be boarded up to stop the draft.” Rooke looked questioningly at Adrian. “What are you going to do about fixing the chimney?”

“Can’t someone just…put the stones back?” Adrian asked.

“Rooke can,” Dominic said. “No one else around here can restore it, unless you just want to put up a chase with a stone façade.”

“No. No. I want it rebuilt. I’m sure that’s what my grandmother will want.”

Rooke dug her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. “I’ll take care of it, then.”

Adrian smiled, completely reassured by that simple statement. She didn’t question why she could accept help so easily from Rooke, not while Rooke’s voice flowed over her like a caress. “That’s settled, then.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll walk you out.” Just as she started forward the phone rang. “Ah, I should get this. It might be my grandmother.”

Rooke nodded and Dominic waved, and they were gone.

Annoyed, Adrian snatched up the phone. “Winchester residence. May I help you?…Hello?”

“Adrian?”

“Melinda?”

“Well, what a very pleasant surprise,” Melinda murmured.

“Yes,” Adrian replied, although she wasn’t really surprised at all. She had been waiting for Melinda to return.

“Tell me,” Melinda said. “Who is Elizabeth Winchester?”

“My grandmother.”

Melinda laughed. The low, sultry purr coursed through Adrian like vintage wine, making her languid and warm. She leaned against the counter, aware of a teasing pressure building between her thighs.

“Why are you looking for my grandmother?” Adrian asked, hoping she sounded casual. She was still aroused from the strange interlude with Rooke, still far too sensitive to
everything,
and Melinda had a powerful effect on her. She steadied her trembling legs.

“Obviously, our meeting yesterday wasn’t a coincidence,” Melinda said.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You do believe in fate, don’t you?” Melinda sounded playful, but there was an undercurrent of challenge in her voice.

Adrian would have denied it out of hand if she hadn’t thought of Rooke and remembered the way it felt to touch her. As if she had always been meant to touch her. She thought of the many instances in her life when a casual touch flooded her consciousness with sensations, images, half-remembrances of experiences not her own. The explanations had ranged from “hyper-reactive autonomic nervous system” to “sixth sense,” depending upon the prejudices of the expert rendering the opinion. Eventually she’d just accepted the occurrences as part of her life. “I know there are things in the universe none of us can explain. So who am I to say what is possible and what isn’t?”

“I’m not interested in what you think,” Melinda said, the timbre of her voice making Adrian’s skin tingle as if a dozen hands caressed her at once. “Only in what you feel. What do you feel, Adrian?”

Adrian wanted to surrender. She wanted those hands to caress the fevered reaches of her body, to take her soaring, diving, crashing, burning. She stifled a whimper as her inner muscles fluttered a warning.

“Adrian, tell me what you feel.”

“I…” Adrian took a shuddering breath and blinked away the mist that clouded her vision. She laughed shakily, wondering if she could be hypnotized by the sound of a voice. “I think you enjoy playing games.”

“Guilty.” Melinda murmured. “Don’t you?”

“Not when I don’t know the rules.”

“Oh, but that’s what makes this game so exciting,” Melinda countered. “Without rules anything can happen.”

“I’m not that daring,” Adrian said, and the name of Melinda’s gallery came to mind.
Osare.
Daring. An invitation.

“Of course you are. I’ve been reading some of your articles. You’re quite the adventurer. And a wonderful writer.”

Adrian flushed at the compliment. Her breath quickened and her body stirred again. Melinda’s subtle seductivity was potent, heady and addictive, but Adrian would not be led where she didn’t want to go of her own volition. “So are you going to tell me why you’re calling?”

“I was hoping your grandmother could help me track down my mysterious artist. Hers was one of the names I was given as someone who might know where the statue I’m interested in came from.”

“Really? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her mention anything about local artists, although she does support more foundations than I can count.”

“Well, that would certainly be a place to start. Do you know the Meriwethers? They are the owners of the piece in question.”

“Bea Meriwether was a good friend of my grandmother’s. She’s been gone several years now. Is the estate sale at Fox Run Manor?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Now I understand.”

“So can I interest you in a little investigating?” Melinda asked. “The sale has been postponed and I am at loose ends. I’d love to have dinner with you. We can do some digging into the local history before that.”

Adrian suddenly felt energized and intrigued. She did want to do some research, and she felt foolish for letting her imagination run away with her. Melinda was simply an attractive woman who knew it, and who enjoyed a little playful sexual banter. There was nothing more to it. Besides, she wasn’t in the habit of backing down from a challenge.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“Wonderful,” Melinda said. “You know where I’m staying. Two o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Dominic dropped Rooke off by the front gates of Stillwater and she made her way on foot up the driveway. Her grandfather must have plowed earlier that morning, because only a few inches of new snow had accumulated. The snowbanks on either side of the wide gravel drive reached almost as high as her shoulders.

Ordinarily she loved to walk through the cemetery after a fresh snow. The air was always crisp and clean, the tree branches glistened under their coating of white, and the gray stones jutted from the unblemished landscape like faithful soldiers standing guard over the innocent. Today, she barely noticed her surroundings. She couldn’t think of anything except the way Adrian’s fingertips had skimmed over her cheek, freezing her in place at the same time as every muscle in her body vibrated with excitement so intense it was nearly painful. She’d never experienced anything like that before. Emma often touched her casually, a hand on her shoulder, a quick brush of fingers over her cheek. Sometimes when Rooke made love to her, Emma stroked her neck and back. Those caresses were warm and soothing, often blunting the tightness in her chest and easing some of the tension that seemed to simmer deep inside her all the time. But she’d never ached the way she had when Adrian touched her. Even now, her body thrummed with so much pent-up energy she felt like she might explode.

She unlocked the door to her shop, dropped the keys on the workbench, and quickly shed her sweatshirt. Pushing on into the back room, she didn’t bother to switch on the heater, but stripped off her denim shirt even though her breath clouded in the cold air. The muscles in her shoulders and arms bunched tightly as she set out her tools. Hammer and chisel in hand, she circled the monolith in the center of the floor until her blood rose in response to the call of the stone. Then she set to work, searching for the woman hidden within.

*

Adrian sent a thank-you to whatever powers might have been watching when the Jeep started on the second try. Rooke had been right about one thing—the Jeep had not been serviced in a while. The windshield was covered with grime and the left front tire was flat. Fortunately, she found an air compressor and was able to fill the tire rather than change it. Of course, by the time she got the vehicle in working order she was filthy and had to go back to the house to shower and change. She’d left plenty of time, though, and after pulling on clean jeans, a navy cotton pullover sweater, her boots, and a black field jacket, she was ready for her afternoon of investigation.

Driving into town, she was surprised to find she had a case of nerves, as if she were on her way to a date. Strange, because she wasn’t looking for one, and she didn’t really think Melinda intended their meeting that way. Nevertheless, her insides swarmed with butterflies and her heart bounced around in her chest like a buoy on a stormy sea. She didn’t have time on the fifteen-minute trip to talk herself out of her irrational reaction, so when she parked in front of the hotel and started up the walk, she decided to approach her appointment with Melinda the way she would a difficult interview. She was well practiced at hiding her emotions in professional situations, and Melinda didn’t need to know the disconcerting effect she had on her. Just because she’d been behaving completely unlike herself recently didn’t mean she couldn’t handle a little mild flirtation. She’d certainly had enough practice saying no to quite a few of the men she met in her travels, and some of the women too.

The small lobby was empty save for the desk clerk when Adrian entered, so she walked through the bar to the parlor on the opposite side. Melinda stood by the fireplace, one arm stretched out along the mantel, a glass of deep red wine cradled in her other hand. She was taller than Adrian had appreciated in the dark train, appearing particularly svelte in tapered black slacks, black boots with three-inch heels, and a black cashmere cowlneck sweater that hugged her full breasts and slender waist. Her long blond hair shimmered with reflected firelight, and her patrician features seemed pensive as she watched the flames. She was very beautiful.

“Melinda,” Adrian said quietly.

“Hello.” Melinda smiled, her gaze drifting languidly over Adrian’s face.

“You looked lost in thought.”

“Would you believe I was thinking about you?”

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” Adrian said, determined to resist Melinda’s tremendous allure. After all, she wasn’t twenty any longer, that a little attention should make her lose her head.

“I know you’ll find this hard to believe,” Melinda said as she neared, “but I’ve been waiting for you for far longer than you can imagine.” She kissed Adrian’s cheek, her lips lingering for a few seconds before she drew back. “It’s good to see you.”

Adrian willed herself not to react, even though the kiss sent showers of sparks dancing along the surface of her body. Despite the wave of arousal that followed, she experienced none of the instantaneous sense of rightness she’d felt when she’d touched Rooke, and remembering that brief but exquisite moment helped her keep her bearings now. She
would
choose when and with whom she shared herself.

“I’m parked out front. Unless you’d rather walk?”

Melinda scooped up a long leather coat from the back of the sofa and pulled it on. Then she hooked her arm through Adrian’s. “Let’s just wander, shall we. I always find it so much more exciting not to know what I might find.”

*

Rooke thumbed the button to pause her audio book and removed her earphones. After laying her tools aside and removing her goggles, she swiped her forearm over her face to mop off some of the sweat. She ran her palm over the smooth curve of a shoulder and part of an upper arm. The stone was warm and she imagined the firm flesh yielding beneath her touch. She ached to breathe life into the figure, yearned to fill the void in her heart with the beauty and grace of this woman.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “Where are you?”

Distant pounding drew her gaze away from the emerging form. She would have no answers this night or for many nights to come. The sculpture would relinquish its secrets when it was finished, and not before. Shoving her iPod into her pocket, she strode into the outer room, found her keys, and locked her workroom. Usually she left it open, but not now, not with the work unprotected.