1
“WELL, PETE, I’ve sent my boy off to see your girl.” Ernie Tremayne lay in the white hospital room alone and listened to the beep of the heart monitor punctuate the rumble of thunder outside. “Too bad I can’t be there to referee, like in the old days.”
A hell of a referee you were, Ernie, bribing those kids with ice cream if they’d stop arguing. Beth and Alana told me they used to start fights with Mike on purpose, just to get the damned ice cream!
Ernie chuckled, although it made his chest hurt where they’d opened him up. “Yeah, Mike told me that once, too. I miss those days, Pete. Miss ‘em bad. This heart attack is a hellacious nuisance, but if it helps get those kids talkin’ again, then it’s okay.”
A nurse walked by and poked her head in the door. “Mr. Tremayne? Visiting hours are...oh, you’re alone.”
“Yeah. Just talkin’ to myself, Judy.”
“Is there anything I can do for you? It’s not quite time for your injection yet, but—”
“You got any cigars on you?”
She grinned. “Sorry. I smoked my last one an hour ago.”
“There ain’t nothin’ you can do for me, then. You’d best go tend to some sick folks.”
“Okay. Buzz the nurses’ station if you need anything. Besides cigars, that is.” With a smile she backed out of the doorway and continued down the hall.
Ernie wondered what Judy would say if he told her he was talking to his old friend and business partner Pete Nightingale. Probably wasn’t the first time she’d had patients in his particular fix, talking to dead friends and relatives. Of course she probably wouldn’t believe that Pete answered back.
Ernie figured it was because he’d made contact with Pete during the few seconds he’d spent on the other side while the emergency room docs worked to get his heart beating again. Pete had been real glad to see him, and now they seemed to be able to talk to each other, which was a considerable comfort to Ernie, and he hoped it was the same for Pete.
Of course Ernie wouldn’t mention any of this to the hospital staff. Sure as the world they’d write Senile on his chart, right next to Heart Disease. So Ernie kept the information strictly to himself. Someday, though, he might tell Beth and Alana.
THE EVENING DRIVE from Tucson Medical Center to the small town of Bisbee gave Mike Tremayne an hour and a half to consider what he’d say to Beth Nightingale when he saw her. He could start with an apology. Hell, he had a basketful of them to make.
What a mess he’d created eight years ago, alienating both sisters and ruining what had been the best friendships of his life. Worse than that, his guilt had kept him from spending time with his father. He’d only come home twice since he’d left town the night before he and Alana were to be married. His visits had been short, because like a damned coward, he’d been worried about running into Beth and Alana. For years he’d shortchanged himself and the man he loved most in the world. Although Ernie hadn’t spoken one word of reproach tonight in that sterile, frightening hospital room, Mike was filled with regret for the precious time he’d thrown away.
As he drove across the desert, storm clouds piled against the dark mountains and fragments of lightning cut through the blackness. The sweep of night sky and the sparse vegetation beneath it contrasted sharply with the jungle environment he’d become used to. But Arizona could be as wild in its way as the Amazon, and he’d always loved these dramatic summer storms. So had Alana, but Beth had cringed with every roll of thunder.
Beth. He hadn’t seen her in eight years—an eternity. And through those eight years, he’d been plagued with thoughts of what might have been, if he hadn’t run out on her and Alana. Yet even in the depths of the rain forest, thousands of miles away from Beth, he’d sometimes awakened from dreams so vivid he could still taste their forbidden kiss, the kiss that had changed everything....
THUNDER GROWLED in the distance as Beth opened the back door of her glass studio and hurried inside. Flipping on lights as she went, she passed through the workroom into the gift shop, where rainbow-hued examples of her art hung in the windows and from wrought-iron racks Ernie had made for her in his machine shop. Colby Huxford would arrive any minute. She wished she’d had time to eat dinner, but seeing Ernie at the hospital this afternoon had been more important.
Her visit to Ernie hadn’t worked out as well as she’d hoped, though. She’d thought he’d be relieved that she’d found somebody to take over manufacturing the glass cutters they’d begun marketing under the Tremayne-Nightingale partnership agreement. Although she and Ernie would have to lease the patent to Handmade, Colby’s Chicago-based company, at least orders would be filled on time.
But Ernie hadn’t liked the idea at all. He’d begged her not to lease the patent, promising he’d be out of the hospital and back in his machine shop in a matter of days. She didn’t believe that, much as she wanted to. Leasing the patent to Handmade seemed to be their only option.
As she surveyed the studio, her glance lingered on the large circle of stained glass that dominated the front display window. Inside the shop the colors lost their brilliance at night, but to anyone standing outside on the sidewalk, the interior lights made the piece glow with passionate intensity. She knew she was tempting Fate to leave it hanging there, but Ernie hadn’t mentioned anything about Mike coming home, and the piece represented her finest work. Fortunately no one had guessed that it also represented the most sinfully glorious moment of her life.
Mike would guess immediately, but last she heard, he was headed off to guide another botany expedition into the Brazilian rain forest—living his dream. He’d been fascinated with the Amazon jungle ever since he was a kid. She still remembered the mural that had covered one wall of his room with a panorama of parrots, monkeys and jaguars roaming in a lush tropical setting. Mike had loved visits to the zoo and had vowed to see each of those same animals in the wild. But leading scientists into uncharted jungles meant he was often unreachable, and Ernie’s doctors hadn’t been able to contact him after the heart attack.
Still, it would be just like Mike to appear without notice. Perhaps she should take the stained-glass piece down, at least for the next few days. As she reached for the wooden frame to lift it from the hooks in the ceiling, a rental car pulled up to the curb in front of the studio. Beth abandoned the task as Colby Huxford got out of the car and started across the sidewalk.
JUST OUTSIDE of Bisbee Mike entered the tunnel that penetrated the Mule Mountains guarding the west entrance into town. Locals called it the Time Tunnel, and as Mike drove through it and looked down on the lights of the former mining town, he wished he really could go back in time, back to that night eight years ago. If he could wipe out the single stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life, everything would be different now.
The winding, mountainous streets of Bisbee were deserted at nine-thirty on a weeknight as Mike drove the rental car down Main toward Nightingale’s Glass Studio. His father had told him it was called Nightingale’s Daughter, now that Pete was dead, but the business partnership between the studio and Tremayne’s Machine Shop remained intact. Anxiety constricted Mike’s windpipe. He’d faced prowling jaguars and deadly vipers with more composure than this meeting with Beth. He would love to postpone it, but he’d promised his father he would talk to her tonight, before she made some irrevocable decision.
Apparently a business shark from Chicago wanted to take over the manufacture of the glass cutters that were Beth and Ernie’s latest business venture. Ernie had asked Mike to step in and keep Beth from agreeing to anything. Mike had warned his father that Beth might throw him right back out again.
“Don’t let her do that,” Ernie had said. “The cutter could make us lots of money. I think this Huxford fellow plans to swindle us out of it.”
Some white knight he was, Mike thought as he neared the studio. Black sheep was more like it. But he’d try, for his father’s sake, and for Beth’s sake, too. He certainly owed her that much.
The studio, a brick two-story with a storefront below and living quarters above, sat in a row of nineteenthcentury buildings along Main Street. Mike parked behind a nondescript sedan, no doubt Colby Huxford’s rental. Ernie had said Beth would be meeting Huxford tonight, which was why Ernie had shooed Mike out of the hospital room and told him to get his behind back to Bisbee before it was too late.
Mike thought it might be eight years too late, but he got out of the car anyway and walked between the two vehicles to reach the curb. On his way he took his first good look at a large circle of stained glass hanging in the window. What he saw stopped him cold.
He stared at the work, a good thirty inches in diameter, and couldn’t believe the scene created within it. Eight years disappeared in an instant, and his heart began to pound as memories came rushing back...her red silk dress whispering as he pulled her against him, her auburn hair caressing the back of his hand as she tilted her face up to his, her lily-of-the-valley fragrance surrounding him as he leaned close, inhaling her champagne-sweetened breath, touching his lips to hers...
And now they were captured in a circle of glass hanging in the studio window, frozen in their forbidden embrace.
Mike closed his eyes. He’d been slightly drunk and in a crazy mood. And that dress...Beth had never worn anything like it. He’d stupidly thought he could kiss her once, just to satisfy his curiosity before he became a married man. After all, he’d known her almost all his life, so what was the harm? But he’d known nothing—until his lips found hers. He could still feel the emotions that ran through him at that moment, the wonder of everything falling into place and the terror of knowing that everything would soon fall apart.
He’d tried to imagine telling Alana that he couldn’t marry her because he was in love, and had probably always been in love, with her little sister. He simply couldn’t imagine it. Alana had been a substitute mother for Beth ever since their real mother had died when they were five and three. He, of all people, understood the bond between the sisters, and everything in him rebelled at the thought of driving a wedge into that relationship. The simplest solution had been to leave town. Then they could both hate him, which he was pretty sure they did.
At least he had been sure until now, standing here looking at Beth’s interpretation of that passionate kiss. For one hopeful moment, he imagined she’d put the work in the window as a signal to him. But that couldn’t be. The doctors had spent a week trying to reach him and had caught him just as his float plane was about to leave Manaus. Another twenty-four hours and he’d have been deep in the rain forest, out of touch. Even Ernie hadn’t known he was coming until he’d walked into the hospital room tonight.
He looked past the stained-glass piece into the studio and saw her standing inside, talking to a skinny guy in a gray suit. Nobody wore suits in Bisbee, so it had to be Huxford. Beth was listening intently, although she’d wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture.
His gut twisted at how beautiful she was. He’d forgotten, or else pushed her so far to the back of his mind it seemed like forgetting. He ran a hand over his day-old beard and wished he could have taken the time to shave and change out of his rumpled khaki shirt and chinos, but his dad had told him to hurry.
Now that he was here, hurrying didn’t seem as important. He took some time to study her. She wore a longsleeved purple blouse tucked into a flowing, anklelength skirt patterned in purple and blue. The blouse clung to her breasts, and the skirt’s waistband emphasized a figure as slim as he remembered when he’d held her in his arms. Beaded earrings dangled almost to her shoulders. He reacquainted himself with the delicate features and smooth skin that appeared as translucent as the glass she used in her work. She’d kept her hair the same luxurious length, and it rippled down to the middle of her back. The red highlights caught the gleam of the overhead fixtures as she moved behind the sales counter.
When Mike realized she’d gone after a pen, he swung into action. His appearance would do no good three seconds after she’d signed away the rights to the glass cutter.
The door to the studio was locked. He rapped on the glass set into the top panel of the door.
She glanced up, frowning. Then her eyes slowly widened, and her throat moved in a convulsive swallow. She put down the pen and came from behind the counter as if she were a sleepwalker. Huxford must have asked her something, because she turned her head briefly and spoke to him. Then she brought her attention right back to Mike.
Through the barrier of the glass in the door, he held her gaze. This was no time to look away. As she drew closer, his heart slammed against his ribs. He’d gazed into the eyes of several lovers in eight years and had never had a reaction like this. He’d forgotten the mesmerizing intensity of those blue eyes. Yet her eyes didn’t sparkle in welcome as they had so long ago. Instead they burned with a cold, deadly fire.
She twisted the lock and opened the door. “So, you’re here.”
“I came from TMC.”
“I was just there this afternoon.” She sounded out of breath. “Ernie didn’t say anything about you coming home.”
Mike allowed himself a smile. “He didn’t know. Hello, Beth. It’s great to see you again, too. You’re looking terrific, as always.”
Not even a glimmer of a smile answered his lame attempt at a joke. “What do you want?”
“World peace.” When she moved to close the door, he added, “and a few moments of your time.”
“I’m busy.”
He massaged the back of his neck and sighed. How he longed to walk away. Although her icy response was exactly what he’d expected, it was still ripping him to shreds inside. But he remembered two things—his promise to his father, who was, after all, a partner in this business, and her circle of glass hanging in the front window. He lowered his voice. “Dad told me about Huxford and his offer. You’re not going to sign anything tonight, are you?”
“That is none of your business. Good night, Michael.”
He put out a hand to stop her from slamming the door in his face. “My dad’s your business partner, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’m his chosen representative, which makes this very much my business.”
“Ernie sent you, then?”
“Yes. With a proposal. You owe it to him to listen.”
Her shoulders slumped and she glanced away. “He shouldn’t be concerned about what happens with the cutter.” When she glanced up, the hardness was gone and anxiety shone from her eyes. “The doctors have warned him about stressing his system with unnecessary worry. He’s supposed to stay calm and get better. Mike, he nearly—”
“I know.” The words made it past the tightness in his throat.
“I blame myself.” The words brimmed with misery. “We got a rush of orders, and I think maybe the pressure of getting them out brought this on.”
“Don’t you dare do that.” His voice shook a little as the reality of his father’s illness, a reality he’d been unwilling to face, set in at last. “He’s been smoking those damned cigars since he was fifteen. And we won’t even talk about his diet, all the ice cream, cheeseburgers, fries and shakes. This latest business venture didn’t give him a heart attack, Beth. Don’t even think it.” He watched her struggle. She obviously needed the comfort of his words but was afraid to let down her guard. His heart ached for her, for him, for all of them. “Look, I know you don’t want to deal with me, but Dad asked me to come here tonight and talk about an alternate plan. I promised him I would.”
She hesitated a moment longer. “Okay, come in.” She stepped back from the door. “Colby and I were just finishing up our discussion.”
“Beth, you’re not going to—”
“Not tonight. Besides, nothing can be done without your dad’s signature, anyway. I was just planning to give Colby a few references, people who’ve had success using the cutter.”
“Oh.” He could have taken time for a shave, after all, he thought as he followed her into the studio.
BETH FOUGHT to stay composed as she introduced Mike to Colby Huxford. It was like introducing Indiana Jones to James Bond. The two were worlds apart in style and temperament. Beth could tell from the measured way they shook hands while keeping their expressions completely blank that they disliked each other on sight.
“Mike is Ernie Tremayne’s son,” Beth said. “He guides scientific expeditions in the Brazilian rain forest.”
“Ah.” Colby pushed back the lapels of his suit jacket and propped his hands on his hips. “That explains the tiger’s tooth, or whatever it is, around your neck.”
“Jaguar.”
“Whatever. Never felt the urge to go down there, myself. I hate snakes.”
“Really?” Mike said. “They always speak well of you.”
“Mike.” Beth sent him a warning glance.
“Never mind,” Colby said. “I’d be edgy, too, if I’d just left my father’s hospital room. Damn shame about that, Tremayne.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Could be the best thing for this glass cutter, though. Handmade can do a much better job of realizing its potential than a small operation could ever dream of doing.”
“Apparently you don’t know Beth and my father very well,” Mike said.
“We were doing fine until Ernie’s attack,” Beth added. She realized she didn’t like Colby any better than Mike did, but she couldn’t afford to have the reputation of the Nightingale cutter tarnished so early in this new venture. “It’s getting late,” she said to Colby, “and you still have a long drive back to Tucson. Let me give you those references so you can be on your way.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Colby said, glancing at Mike.
“Then I’ll take the blame for ending the meeting.” Beth forced a smile. “I’m a little tired. I’ve had a long day.” She walked behind the counter and picked up the pen she’d dropped when she’d looked up to see Mike standing at the door. The pen shook in her fingers and she gripped it more tightly to write out the names and phone numbers of the customers who had agreed to serve as references for the cutter.
She noticed Mike wandering over to look at The Embrace hanging in the window, and she clenched her jaw. Of course he knew what it was. She’d just have to brazen it out.
That wasn’t going to be easy, considering how she was reacting to his sudden arrival. Time was supposed to dull emotions, but one look into the knowing depths of those brown eyes and she was battling the same feelings of longing she’d fought most of her life. He would have to show up right now—unshaven, tousled and sexier than ever. She wondered if he’d killed the jaguar whose tooth hung on a leather thong around his neck. He seemed to bring the primitive lure of the jungle with him into the shop, but then, life had always been more exciting when Mike Tremayne was around. Despite his rotten character, she would always love him, which was something neither he nor Alana would ever find out.
Mike made no effort to create small talk with Colby, and that was fine with her. Instead he continued to wander around the studio examining her work. He’d been a fair stained-glass hobbyist as a kid, Beth remembered. Her father had helped them each make sun-catchers as Christmas presents one year, and Mike had turned out to be pretty adept at the process. Once he’d become a teenager, though, he’d abandoned the hobby as being too sissy. Alana had given it up, too, leaving only Beth, who’d become her father’s apprentice. At times she’d envied Alana and Mike their freedom, but she’d cherished the special relationship she had with her father and Ernie, too.
She ripped the top page off the notepad, came back around the counter and handed it to Colby.
“I don’t really need these, you know,” he said. “I’m convinced the cutter is good.”
“But you still don’t know how good. Having you talk to our customers will let you know that. I don’t want to discuss the cost of leasing the patent until you’ve checked with these people.”
“All right. I’ll call your references. But you’re the one who told me the cutter has to get back in production immediately.”
Her smile was grim. “I think we can wait another twenty-four hours.”
“Then you’ll be ready to sign the papers if I come back tomorrow night?”
“I still have to convince Ernie that this is the best course of action, but assuming I do, yes, we can probably finalize everything tomorrow night”
“I’m sure you’ll convince Ernie.”
“We’ll see.” She’d love to have another option, but she couldn’t afford the going rate any other machine shop would charge her for the work.
Colby held out his hand. “Shall we say seven tomorrow night? We can celebrate with dinner, if there’s anywhere in Bisbee that has acceptable food.”
Beth made the handshake brief. She really didn’t like this guy. “We have some of the best restaurants in Southern Arizona,” she said.
“Is that right? I never would have guessed. Well, see you tomorrow night, then.” He started toward the door. “Good meeting you, Tremayne.”
Mike waved an acknowledgment as Colby headed out the door. Then he turned toward Beth. “What rock did you find him under?”
“He works for a Chicago outfit called Handmade that’s trying to establish itself in the hobby market. When Ernie and I first started selling the cutters, they saw our video on the home shopping channel and contacted us. At the time, we weren’t interested in their offer to lease the patent and take over the manufacturing. Butnow—”
“Now it would be even more stupid. Dad says you have a winner.”
“We need another six months, Mike.” She glanced outside as Colby’s rental car pulled away from the curb. Now she was totally alone with the man who had betrayed both her and her sister in a single evening. “I can’t wait for Ernie to recover and start making the cutters again. Our credibility will be destroyed if orders show up late. Besides, even if we could wait, I don’t think Ernie should continue working at this pace, considering his bad heart.”
“Neither do L” Mike put down the stained-glass night-light he’d been inspecting. “Fortunately, you have me.”
“You?”
His tone was mild. “You sound as if it’s a joke.” He meandered over toward The Embrace.
“It is a joke.” She suspected he’d deliberately moved closer to the incriminating circle of stained glass to taunt her. Any minute now he’d ask her about it. “You’re not a machinist,” she said.
“Sure I am.” He ran a finger along the ebony wood frame of the piece. “I spent five summers working for Dad, and I even found work as a machinist in Brazil, between expeditions, when I needed the extra cash.” He turned to her. “I’m qualified to produce the cutters for you, Beth.”
Making a deal with Colby would be risking her financial future. She knew that going in. But making a deal with this man would be suicide for her emotional wellbeing. “And how long could you spare, Mike? Three days? That won’t be much help.”
He gave her a mock bow. “I’ll stay as long as you need me, my lady.”
That almost undid her, but she clenched her hands and forced herself not to react. “Six months?”
He flinched but didn’t look away. “Sure, if it takes that long.”
“Sorry, but I won’t let you martyr yourself on my account. And don’t kid yourself. You’d never last six months. We don’t have piranhas in the streams around Bisbee, or ferocious jaguars, or man-eating crocodiles. You’d go crazy living so far from your precious rain forest, and we both know it”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You’re making this seem tougher than it has to be. Dad was planning to train a couple of people to help manufacture the cutters, anyway. I could train them, and once Dad comes home, he could supervise. I’d be out of here in six weeks, not six months.”
She began to panic. He and Ernie had thought this plan out very thoroughly, and it might even work, except for the fact that having Mike around would be hell on earth for her. She took refuge in the truth. “I don’t want you to stay, Mike.”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Dammit, Beth, grow up. What happened eight years ago is no reason to jeopardize your future now.”
She wanted to hit him. Instead she turned away and folded her arms. “It has nothing to do with maturity. I’m looking at this from a purely practical standpoint. Working with glass, which is how I earn my living, requires a calm mind. If I’m in a bad mood, I can’t cut the glass without breaking it, so I’ve eliminated the negative influences in my life. I can’t risk having you around.”
He was silent for several seconds. “If I’m such a negative influence in your life,” he said quietly, “then why am I hanging in your studio window?”