Late Saturday afternoon, Hope was in her suite at the mansion, getting ready for Brant Colter’s wedding, when Iris knocked on the door. She looked surprised, and none too pleased, to see Hope dressed to go out.
“I was hoping we could have tea together.” Iris was groomed as impeccably as ever, but she no longer wore black. Her mourning attire had been dispensed with shortly after Michael Eldridge had entered their lives. Today she was dressed in a jade pants-and-tunic outfit, complemented by a breathtaking diamond- and-emerald brooch. “Michael’s coming by later.”
Hope was glad she had a legitimate excuse for being absent from the house during his visit. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made plans with my mother for the evening.” No use telling Iris what those plans were. Mentioning Brant Colter’s name was bound to stir up painful memories for her, since it had been Brant’s uncle who had confessed to kidnapping Adam.
“I understand.” Iris sat down on the edge of Hope’s bed and watched her put the finishing touches to her makeup. “You look lovely, my dear. I’ve always thought that color was very becoming to you.”
“Thank you,” Hope said, inspecting the lavender silk dress in the mirror. Was it too short? She was thirty-two, after all. Hardly matronly, but not an ingenue any longer. Opening the lid of her jewelry box, she withdrew a strand of pearls that Andrew had given her for one of their anniversaries, the year he’d gotten himself the Porsche.
Hope held the necklace to her dress. “Yes,” Iris said approvingly. “Pearls are always appropriate.”
Hope fastened them around her neck, then picked up her bag. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’m off, then.”
“I’ll give Michael your regards,” Iris said.
Please don’t, Hope thought, but she merely smiled at Iris before she turned to exit the room.
Hope’s car had been brought around a little while earlier, and as she descended the steps to the walkway, she saw the red Viper rounding the last curve in the drive. Michael was early.
Hope hurried across the cobblestone drive to the Jaguar, intent on making a getaway before he could reach the house. But Michael must have spotted her and accelerated, because before she could climb inside her car, he screeched to a halt in front of the house and hopped out.
“Hello,” he called. “Where are you off to all dressed up?”
Hope hesitated. Politeness dictated that she wait and make small talk with him, no matter how uneasy he made her. She glanced up at the house. A curtain moved in Iris’s sitting-room window. She was up there watching them, Hope realized.
“I’m meeting my mother,” she said noncommittally.
He walked toward her. “I love that dress,” he said, propping one arm on the Jaguar’s top.
“Thank you.” Hope glanced at her watch. “I hate to dash off like this, but I am running late.”
“Oh, well, in that case.” He straightened, tapping the Jaguar affectionately. “We wouldn’t want to keep Joanna waiting, now would we?”
He strolled off with his hands in his pockets, whistling some inane tune as Hope stared after him, her heart pounding and her mouth going dry. She got into the car, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t turn the ignition. How had he known her mother’s name? There was no way, unless…
Hope closed her eyes. It can’t be, she told herself. What she was thinking was incredible. Someone—Iris, maybe—must have mentioned her mother’s name to Michael. That was the only possible explanation.
But he’d used it so casually, so naturally, as if he’d spoken her mother’s name dozens of times before.
“Andrew is dead,” Hope whispered aloud. He had to be. Nothing else made sense. Why would he fake his own death, then deliberately pretend to be someone else? It would take a madman to try and pull off such a bizarre stunt.
Or a desperate one…
She stopped suddenly, as Jake’s words came rushing back to her. “Andrew owed Pratt a lot of money. One way or another, Pratt always collects.”
Could Andrew have fabricated his own death in order to escape Pratt’s wrath? Hope had met the man, had seen firsthand what he was capable of. She could well imagine Andrew’s desperation.
But to perpetrate such an elaborate hoax would take a great deal of planning. Not to mention conspirators. Someone would have had to help him. Someone with a great deal of money and power, Hope thought suddenly, her gaze returning to Iris’s sitting-room window.
“Oh, Hope. Don’t you see? It’s as if Andrew’s come back to us,” Iris had told her the first day Michael had visited the mansion. And now Iris was no longer wearing black. No longer in mourning. She had even begun to hint that Hope and Michael…
Hope put trembling hands to her face. Did Iris know something no one else did? Was that why she had taken to Michael so quickly? Was that why she didn’t want him investigated?
No, Hope thought. She couldn’t believe that. She’d seen how grief-stricken Iris had been when she’d learned of Andrew’s death. There was no way she could have been pretending. Unless, of course, she hadn’t yet known…
Stop it! Hope commanded herself firmly. Andrew is dead. Dead and buried, and that’s that.
But as she reached for the ignition, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her image seemed to be mocking her, reminding her that for over thirty years, Adam Kingsley was thought to have been dead and buried, too.
And they’d been wrong about him.
* * *
BY THE TIME HOPE and her mother arrived at the church, Hope had managed to convince herself once again that her imagination was simply running away with her. There was something odd about Michael Eldridge, no question. He seemed to be deliberately trying to make her think he was Andrew. His mannerisms. The cologne. And now mentioning her mother’s name. But whatever sick game he was playing, Hope wanted no part of it. And by allowing herself to think for even one minute that Andrew could still be alive was playing right into the man’s possibly psychotic hands.
“Isn’t it a perfect evening for a wedding?” Joanna asked as she linked her arm through Hope’s. “You look so pretty tonight, Hope. You could be a bride yourself.”
“Don’t start,” Hope warned as they neared the church. But her mother was right. The day had been glorious, mild and sunny, and now twilight had fallen like the softest of blankets over the churchyard. The early stars burned in the eastern sky, bright and steadfast, and just barely visible over the horizon, the moon was rising like some ancient silver disk that had been polished a bit too thin around the edges.
The air smelled deliciously of cherry blossoms, roses and hyacinths. Wisteria plunged purple over the brick wall surrounding the church, and high in the gnarled branches of a locust tree, doves came home to roost, cooing as sweetly as an old love song.
It was a perfect evening for a wedding. A perfect night for romance.
Glancing up, Hope saw Jake at the entrance to the church. He wore dark gray pleated trousers with a sport coat and a white shirt, but no tie. He stood talking to some of the men gathered just outside the door, but as Hope and her mother approached, his gaze locked onto hers and Hope’s breath left her in a painful rush.
She thought suddenly of the way he had kissed her two nights before. Gently, almost wistfully. And yet there had been a hint even then of something more. Something deeper. Something…hotter.
Passion had never been in short supply between them, she remembered. They’d once had it all.
“There’s Jake,” her mother whispered. “Why don’t you go say hello?”
Joanna’s voice seemed to break the spell. Hope tore her gaze from Jake’s and glared down at her mother. “Mother, don’t.”
Joanna’s brows rose in innocence. “What? All I did was suggest you go say hello to an old friend. What’s so wrong with that?”
“You know exactly what’s wrong with it,” Hope replied. “You’re doing it again. Trying to get Jake and me together, and I want you to stop.”
Joanna let out a long, exasperated breath. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Hope? Why do you keep torturing yourself out of some misplaced loyalty to Andrew? You made a mistake ten years ago, but you’ve been bound and determined all this time not to admit it. I could admire that to a point. God knows, I’m no fan of divorce. A part of me has always been very proud of the way you fought to make your marriage work. But enough is enough, already. Andrew is dead, and there’s no point in pretending anymore. Now go on over there and say hello to Jake, before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
Joanna’s mouth tightened into a thin, disapproving line. “See for yourself,” she said, nodding toward the entrance of the church.
Hope followed her gaze. Jake was still among the group of men gathered at the door, but a newcomer had joined them. Sissy McDonnell, a recent divorc;aaee, had established herself at Jake’s side and latched on to his arm as if she never intended to relinquish it. Hope remembered Sissy from college. She’d been something of a femme fatale even back then, and she’d always had a crush on Jake.
Seeing them together, Hope experienced an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. A sour taste in the back of her mouth.
“See what I mean?” Joanna nudged Hope with her purse. “A man like that won’t wait forever.”
* * *
AS JAKE TOOK HIS SEAT inside the church, he noticed that Hope sat two pews up and across the aisle from him, which allowed him a view of her profile every time she turned to speak to her mother. Her hair was pulled back from her face and fastened in the back with a pearl clasp, giving her an air of sophistication and elegance. But the lavender dress she wore was just plain sexy. Jake had always loved Hope in lavender.
She’d worn that color the first time they met, at the police department’s yearly picnic in Overton Park. He’d been a rookie, fresh out of the academy, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “More brawn than brains” had been Hope’s first impression of him, she’d later told him.
Dan Sterling, Hope’s father and Jake’s immediate supervisor, had called him over and introduced him to his wife and daughter. Joanna had immediately taken him under her wing, clucking and fawning over him like a mother hen, introducing him around and making sure he got enough to eat.
Hope, on the other hand, had remained intriguingly aloof all day, reading a book or sitting alone, quietly watching all the rookies make fools of themselves, drinking too much, talking too loud, and trying to out muscle the more seasoned officers in a baseball game.
She’d been wearing white shorts with a lavender top that did incredible things to her eyes, and as Jake rounded the bases after hitting his third homer, he saw her watching him from the bleachers. He nearly missed home plate. When he came back into the dugout, he pointed her out to Brant Colter, another rookie.
“Hope Sterling? Forget it,” Brant had said. “You’re not her type.”
“Oh, yes, I am,” Jake assured him. “I’m exactly her type. I’m going to marry that girl someday.”
Well, “someday” had never arrived, Jake thought now, staring at Hope’s profile. “Someday” had remained as elusive as a dream that he couldn’t recall the next morning.
The wedding march sounded, and everyone stood, turning expectantly to catch the first glimpse of the bride. Valerie entered the chapel slowly, on the arm of her father, a man who had spent over thirty years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Everyone inside the church was familiar with their story, and Jake suspected there wasn’t a dry eye in the place as the two of them walked down the aisle side by side. He saw Joanna openly dab at her eyes, while beside her, Hope’s face held an expression of such longing that it tore at Jake’s heart.
Was her sadness for Valerie and her father? For all the time that had been lost to them?
Or was her emotion more personal than that? Was she remembering her own wedding? Jake wondered. Or the wedding that had never been?
Was she thinking, like him, of another time and another place? That elusive “someday”…
* * *
THE RECEPTION WAS HELD in a community center within walking distance of the church. Hope only intended to stay for a few minutes, just long enough to congratulate Brant and give her best wishes to Valerie. The two of them seemed so happy, so much in love that it was almost painful to witness.
But then before she could make her exit, it was time for the bride and groom’s first dance together. Then everyone started dancing, and before Hope knew it, she was swept onto the floor by first one old acquaintance, then another, and she spent the remainder of the evening reminiscing and feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time.
Maybe she still did belong here, she thought wistfully. After all these years, maybe she could still come home.
“Mind if I cut in?” said a deep voice over her partner’s shoulder—a voice Hope knew as well as she knew her own. A shiver of pleasure raced through her as she looked up to meet Jake’s gaze.
George Bailey, another cop who had been under her father’s command, frowned, his arms tightening around Hope. “Get lost, McClain.”
“Your wife’s looking for you,” Jake said.
George shrugged. “Which one?”
“The current one.”
George stopped abruptly. “Jeez, Karen’s here?”
Jake motioned toward the doorway. “Over there somewhere.”
“If you’re lying to me, McClain…” George’s gaze scanned the room nervously before he took off in the direction Jake had sent him.
For a moment, Jake and Hope stood facing each other. Then he smiled. “Dance?”
“You used to hate to dance,” she said.
He shrugged. “Times change. People change.”
Hope walked into his arms and felt them close around her. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, absorbing the sensations spiraling through her. Excitement. Attraction. And yes, even a little fear.
She shivered, and Jake pulled her even closer. Hope thought she caught a glimpse of her mother’s beaming face in the crowd, but she quickly dismissed it. She didn’t want anything, even her mother’s good intentions, intruding on this moment. Because if she tried hard enough, Hope could almost pretend the last ten years had never happened. She could almost believe she and Jake were still together, and that she had worn this lavender dress just for him.
And maybe she had.
“Is George’s wife really here?” she asked.
Jake grinned. “One of them is bound to be.”
“How many times has he been married? I’ve lost count.”
“We all have. You have to give him points for trying, though.”
“You never did.”
“What?”
“You never tried marriage,” Hope said. “Why not?”
He hesitated, then said, “I almost did. Twice.”
Hope gazed up at him. “What happened? The second time, I mean.”
He shrugged. “I guess it was pretty much the same thing that happened the first time. She decided she couldn’t be a cop’s wife after I got shot that time. I don’t know if you remember it or not.”
Hope remembered, all right. She and Andrew had been out of the country, vacationing on the C;afote d’Azur. She didn’t find out about the shooting until a month later when they returned home. Even though Jake was okay by then, Hope had been devastated by the news. Rather than telling herself that it only proved she’d been right to call off their engagement, all Hope could think was that while she’d been lying on a beach on the Riviera, Jake had been lying in the hospital, fighting for his life. He could have died, and her not there.
Hope sighed without meaning to.
“It’s warm in here,” Jake said. “Let’s get some air.”
They walked outside to the little courtyard in back of the community center. The moon was up now, but veiled by a thin filigree of clouds. A light breeze drifted through the trees, stirring the scent of the wisteria.
“Nice night,” Jake murmured.
“Very,” Hope agreed. She shivered a bit in the breeze. “Valerie and Brant seem so happy, don’t they?”
“Yeah. Especially considering what they’ve been through.”
“I remember when the story broke last summer,” Hope said. “We couldn’t believe Cletus Brown, Valerie’s father, had been proved innocent after all those years. In all the excitement over the discovery that Adam might still be alive, I just kept thinking about Brant—what all of that must have done to his family. To him. He had to shoot his own cousin in order to save Valerie’s life. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have someone love you that much—”
Jake stared down at her in the moonlight. “You had that once,” he said with a bitter edge in his voice. “I would have done anything for you back then.”
“Except give up being a cop,” Hope said softly.
He hesitated. “Yeah. Except that.” Maybe it was her imagination, but Hope thought the bitterness in his voice had turned to regret.
She glanced up at him. “Is there a chance you could ever go back? To being a cop, I mean.”
Jake shook his head. “The board’s decision was final, and besides, I don’t feel the same about the department anymore. I could never go back.”
Hope smiled wistfully in the moonlight. “I know what you mean. Earlier, when I was inside with George and David and Sarah and all the others I knew from the old neighborhood, I got to thinking that maybe things hadn’t changed that much. That maybe I did still belong here, but…” She trailed off with a shrug. “Ten years is a long time. I guess it’s true what they say. You can never really go home.”
“Maybe not,” Jake said. “Maybe that wouldn’t be the healthiest thing to do anyway. Living in the past rarely is. Maybe what you and I should do is concentrate on the present. On what we feel now.”
Hope’s heart accelerated. Her stomach fluttered with awareness. “I don’t—”
“Be honest, Hope. There is something between us.”
“I wasn’t going to deny it,” she said softly. “I was going to say, I don’t know how I feel.”
“That’s okay.” Jake smiled down at her in the soft, filtered light. “No one’s rushing you. We’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.”
Did they? Suddenly Hope wanted more than anything to believe it was so. To forget that there was a man out there who looked exactly like her husband, a man named Michael Eldridge who might be waiting for the opportunity to destroy the fragile bond she and Jake were just now attempting to rebuild.
He bent to kiss her and Hope closed her eyes, a storm of emotions washing over her. Not sadness this time. Not regret or remorse or thoughts of what might have been. When Jake kissed her this time, it was like a first kiss. Like the promise of a new beginning.
Hope parted her lips and let her tongue gently mate with Jake’s. Tightening his arms around her, he pulled her close, until their bodies melted together and the kiss deepened. The sensations rushing through Hope intensified. The night suddenly came alive with their passion.
Jake pulled back long enough to whisper her name in the darkness, a dusky entreaty that sent shivers of desire up and down Hope’s back. Then his mouth claimed hers again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands moved over her, and everywhere he touched set Hope on fire.
My God, she thought in a daze. It had never been like this before, had it? How could she have given this up?
A touch of longing swept through her, shadowing the desire. How had she done without this man’s kiss, this man’s touch for ten long years? How had she managed to convince herself, even for a moment, that she and Jake were not meant to be?
As if sensing her mood, Jake broke the kiss and pulled away to stare down at her in the moonlight. He pushed back her hair from her face with a hand that was exquisitely gentle, but his eyes were still dark and intense, still burning with passion.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here,” he murmured huskily.
Hope managed a weak smile. “Me, neither.”
“I didn’t plan for that to happen, you know.” His tone turned ironic. “Then again, I feel as if I’ve been waiting for it most of my life. Ten years, at least.”
“Jake—”
“I’m not trying to rush you, Hope. I know it hasn’t been that long since Andrew died.”
At the mention of her husband, a shadow seemed to creep over the courtyard. Hope shivered in Jake’s arms. “No, it hasn’t,” she said, gently pulling away from him.
Jake let her go, watching her with hooded eyes. “You still have feelings for him, don’t you? Even though you wanted to divorce him.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about Andrew anymore,” Hope answered truthfully. She stepped away from Jake and the wind suddenly grew colder, the courtyard darker, the shadows more menacing at the mention of her husband’s name.
A premonition of dread slipped over Hope. It wasn’t that she saw someone lurking in the shadows. It wasn’t that she heard stealthy footfalls in the darkness. But just the same, she had the strongest sensation that someone was out there watching her. He had seen her with Jake. He’d seen them kiss. And he hadn’t liked it. Not one bit.
I’ll see you both dead first, the wind seemed to whisper.
A fist of fear closed around Hope’s heart. What if Andrew was still alive? What if he’d changed his name, his identity, so that he could come back here and renew his relationship with Hope, his rivalry with an old foe? How far would he be willing to go to keep Jake from winning this time?
“It’s late,” she whispered. “I have to go.”
Jake started to protest, but then he must have seen something in her eyes, the look on her face, for a shutter closed over his own expression. “You’re right,” he said. “It is late.”
Maybe too late, his tone seemed to imply.
* * *
JAKE STOOD OUTSIDE his father’s cottage, on the edge of the Kingsley grounds, and stared up at the house. How many times had he done this same thing as a child? Stared at the Kingsley mansion from a distance, trying to imagine all the riches within.
There was only one treasure inside that house he coveted now, but in many ways, Hope was still just as unattainable to him as she had been for the past ten years. Something was still coming between them—Andrew’s memory, Jake suspected—and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. How could you compete with a ghost?
His gaze went to the west wing of the house, where Hope’s suite was located. A light shone from one of the windows, and Jake watched, hoping to catch a glimpse of her inside.
And then suddenly she was there, a dark silhouette in the window, staring out at the garden. At him, he wanted to imagine.
“She’s very beautiful,” a voice said from the darkness.
Jake whirled, tense and alert. How the hell had he let someone slip up on him like that?
You’re losing it, McClain. In more ways than one. For a moment there, he’d thought the voice sounded like Andrew’s, and the hair on the back of Jake’s neck stood on end.
“Who’s there?” he said.
The grounds around his father’s cottage lay in deep shadow. Jake peered into the gloom from where the disembodied voice had spoken. All was silent, and for a split second, he thought he must have imagined the voice. Then slowly, the shadows stirred and a man stepped into the moonlight.
Jake’s mouth went completely dry as he stared at the apparition before him. Then, almost instantly, relief washed over him. Not Andrew after all, but the would-be heir prowling the Kingsley grounds.
“You must be Eldridge,” Jake said.
The man continued to move toward him, but stopped a few feet away from Jake, as if he didn’t want to be examined too closely in the moonlight. He smiled Andrew’s smile, his gaze going to the lighted window in the mansion. “You were watching her.”
Jake shrugged. “What if I was?”
Michael’s eyes never left Hope’s window. Without meaning to, Jake followed his gaze. Hope remained at the window, and he wondered if she could see the two of them out here in the darkness. Watching her.
“A woman like her would be hard to forget.” Jake turned and found Eldridge’s gaze on him now. There was something in his eyes that sent a cold chill straight through Jake’s heart. “I imagine a man would be willing to do just about anything to hold on to someone like her.”